#wolf dynamics

For Jercy Week 2025

This fic was written at the last minute for Jercy week. I was intrigued by the prompt calling for Wolf-House or Wolf Tendencies. Last minute = pretty much 10+ hours of painful bloody word extraction. It was worth it and I hope you’ll enjoy, though I had to cut a few corners. It’s so hard to keep plots from sneaking into my porny oneshots.

Summary: Peach flavor bursts over my taste buds—the source of that heady scent that called out to me across the camp and led me here like a siren's call was Percy's ass this whole time.

~*~

Jason

My eyes fly open, my heart threatening to jump out of my chest, sweat pouring off my face as I try to catch my breath. It’s so hot. Where the hell am I? I’m lying on a double bed, the sheets tangled up with my legs, the pillow damp underneath me. A small blue nightlight lends an eerie glow to the room; a gentle humming sound pulses rhythmically in my ears. I blink as my eyes adjust to the low light.

"Just a bad dream," I say aloud, my voice swallowed by the sleepy darkness. I pull myself upright, rubbing my temples. I feel off, disoriented, like the time I came to on the bus after Juno snatched my memories. The last thing I recall… Sonoma Valley. I’d traveled there to meet up with Lupa. We were consecrating the grounds at the Wolf-House, planning to build a den that would serve as a temple. After that, my memories are a blur. Sharp teeth, bloody from a kill, paws the size of dinner plates. I shake my head. Lupa lunging into the forest, her growl so loud I could feel it in my bones.

I scrub my hand over my face, a plastic tube follows me. What the hell is this? I punch a button on whatever machine is making the noise and yank the tube off of my arm. I’ve gotta get out of here. Gotta figure out where I am.

I slink down the steps of the big house porch, suddenly more alert in the glow of the moon spilling across the green. I’m back at Camp Half-Blood. I breathe a sigh of relief and catch the faintest whiff of something that I absolutely must find the source of—of what? I stop stock still, my toes curling in the dew-damp grass, sniffing the air. Salty, damp—like ocean spray but not quite so sharp—a hint of sweetness and my mind imagining sinking my teeth into a ripe peach, the juice dripping down my chin.

~*~

Read it on A03 ... Rating E, Kinky Jercy goodness.

It’s hard to forget the whole alpha, beta, omega terminology when it comes to wolves. But that terminology comes from wolves being studied in captivity and not in the wild. In the wild, wolf packs are families. The leaders are Mom and Dad who are adults and get to do what they want, including pee on trees together. There may be an older sister or an aunt who sticks around to help feed the puppies when they’re small. The older children sometimes lead the hunt because hey, they have to learn responsibility too! And the brothers, they fight over who gets to babysit the younger puppies. The younger puppies like to play with everybody. And yeah, siblings like to fight and sometimes one sibling takes it upon themselves to be the peacemaker. But when they’re all grown up, they take off to start families of their own sometimes traveling up to 400 miles. Then they’ll have reunions at territory boundaries just to sniff each other and howl.