Chapter Text
Jeff’s been around for a long time. He’s seen lots of things people believe to be impossible. Hell, he’s lived a few of them. He’s survived them, most importantly, and that has given him a sixth sense for danger, for things out of the ordinary, poised to make trouble. The boy at the bar is trouble.
He’s not a boy, technically, more a young man in his early twenties, but he’s got big eyes framed by long, dark lashes and a delicate nose. He’s beautiful, in that soft inviting way that hides strength and camouflages hard edges. Jeff’s sure the boy has many of them.
The boy came into Sam’s roadhouse a few minutes ago, wrapped up in a long, shabby coat, face half hidden by a dark scarf against the cold evening air and carrying a traveler's well-worn rucksack. His boots were muddy from the road though he wiped them on the threshold. He sat down at the end of the long bar, far away from the oil lamps, hidden in the shadows. The entrance is visible from there, and behind the boy is the wall and next to him the door to the kitchen. It’s a good place to sit if you think you might need to leave quickly.
Jeff sighs. He expects friends tomorrow and he doesn’t want trouble while they’re in town. It’s rare Jim and Alaina pass through and Jeff intends to spend the day with them, hear the stories, get the latest rumors. In their world, information is hard to come by but crucial to stay alive.
The boy ordered a glass of whiskey and the way he presses the tumbler against his full bottom lip and takes a sip is a lazy provocation. Jeff looks out the window. It’s two hours past sunset, the night’s still young. He has time to investigate what kind of trouble the boy is going to be. Because there's the bad kind of trouble, the kind that’ll get you killed. And then there’s the other kind of trouble, the thrilling, fun kind that just might get you killed. Jeff would definitely be open to that kind if it comes in the shape of a pretty boy with a mouth made to suck cock.
The boy’s whiskey is empty and it’s as good a conversation opener as any. Jeff signals Sam to get a bottle of the good stuff and two new glasses. The boy looks up slowly; he doesn’t seem surprised to see Jeff come over. He watches in silence, shoulders stiff under his dark coat, his face a neutral mask, giving nothing away. Jeff gives him a crooked smile, the one that doesn’t promise bodily harm, except maybe for a love bite, if you’re into that kind of thing. The boy gives no indication if he is.
Jeff sits down next to him and takes a deep breath while he pours. Leather, earth, and a hint of a tart, flowery scent. Human. The boy is human. Jeff isn’t sure what he expected but he wouldn’t have been surprised to smell something supernatural. There’s just something about the boy that makes his senses tingle.
“You look like you need a drink,” Jeff says and picks up his glass.
Finally, the boy reacts. He tilts his head, giving Jeff a slightly amused look. Even in the dim light, his eyes are grass green. Fey eyes, Jeff would’ve thought, if he hadn’t scented the boy.
“That’s mighty kind of you,” the boy drawls in a surprisingly rough voice and Jeff thinks maybe he’s a few years older than he first assumed.
Jeff gives him a predatory grin. “I’m not known for my kindness.”
“No?” The boy doesn’t look scared or even hesitant. He doesn’t look impressed either. If anything, there’s a derisive pull to his full lips, like he’s preparing to deliver a stinging blow that’ll send Jeff packing. “What are you known for then?”
“Hospitality, for one,” Jeff says, not intending to give up before he even really tried. “Generosity. A good sense of humor. An appreciation of the finer things in life.”
Purposefully, the boy looks around the bar with the mismatched wooden furniture, the uneven floor boards and the faded wall paint. Everything is bathed in the dim light of the soot-caked oil lamps and the one fireplace in the middle of the long side of the room is blocked by a few arm chairs covered in moth-nibbled furs. “And you drink here ?”
Jeff laughs. “Don’t let Sam hear that. She’ll have you out on your ass before you can finish your drink. I don’t care much for decor. Other things matter,” he says, swirls the whiskey in his glass and looks the boy up and down.
The boy coolly looks back. His heartbeat is even. Jeff thinks he might be in a lot of trouble here.
“The name’s Jeff,” he says and stretches out his hand. “Jeff Morgan.” He wants to feel the boy’s skin.
“Jensen,” the boy says. It’s not a common name around here. Jeff would bet his tail that the boy has come a long way.
Jensen makes no motion to take Jeff’s hand. Instead, he leans back and looks at Jeff thoughtfully. “So you’re the big bad wolf.”
It catches Jeff by surprise, and he lets out a startled huff. “Is that what people say?”
Jensen gives him a wry grin, leaning forward. “They say all kinds of things about you. But that’s the general gist of it, yeah.”
Jeff grins ruefully. “Well, you've got to understand, this is my land. My pack’s land. I have to protect it. Sometimes people don’t get that. And then I have to make them understand.”
Slowly, Jensen nods. There’s a speculative glint in his eyes and they don’t leave Jeff’s face. “I heard that. You wolves, you’re very territorial.”
“If that’s a problem for you, you shouldn’t have come here,” Jeff says.
He wonders how Jensen knows. Most humans have no clue about the world they’re walking in. They know about creatures of the night, but they only know the scary stories, not necessarily the truth. Werewolves, especially, have a tendency to stay away from most humans, living in pack-only villages in the countryside. Most of Jeff’s own pack members live ten miles from the town of Lawrence in a settlement in the woods.
“Oh, no, I don’t have a problem,” Jensen says and the way his eyes wander over Jeff’s body, lingering appreciatively on Jeff’s broad shoulders means he really doesn’t. “Just stating a fact.”
It’s an interesting shift in demeanor. Usually Jeff’s not attracted to people who are just after him for the power but there’s something different in the way Jensen’s flirting with him, now that he knows who Jeff is.
Jeff nods, shifting gears. He needs to find out more about this Jensen. “So, what brings you to Lawrence? We’re not exactly on the scenic route.”
“Really?” Jensen asks, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the rim of his glass. “I think there’s plenty to see here.” He looks at Jeff with badly hidden hunger in his eyes, and it’s not entirely sexual.
Well.
Jeff would be lying if he said he’s not used to it. People who know, whether wolf or not, are intrigued by his power, his reputation. He gets his fair share of offerings, but they’re rarely so forthright, so demanding. Usually people assume — quite correctly — that his dominance in life transfers to his preferences in bed. Most of them however, don’t realize that Jeff likes a challenge. And as open and proffering as Jensen is, Jeff can’t shake the feeling he’s playing with fire here. There’s something about Jensen, something about the barely visible tension in his shoulders, the way he picked his spot in the bar and his well hidden desperation to flirt with Jeff ever since Jeff introduced himself.
Jensen wants something from him, only Jeff has no idea what that is. It intrigues him.
“Thanks,” Jeff says with his most wolfish smile, acknowledging Jensen’s compliment without returning it, before he leans back and pours them another round of drinks.
Disappointment flits barely visible across Jensen’s face. Really, the boy couldn't have thought Jeff would be that easy.
“So, Jensen. What’s your story?”
Jensen shrugs unconcerned but Jeff is good at reading people. For a moment, Jensen’s whole body tenses before he forces himself to relax.
“There’s no story,” Jensen says. “Just a guy trying to find his place in the world.”
Jeff raises his eyebrows in disbelief.
Jensen huffs. “You really want to hear the sob story of how my father threw me out when he found me blowing the neighbor’s son in the backyard? You want to hear how I had nothing but the clothes on my back and tried to find a job without even having a roof over my head?”
Jensen’s words are crass, meant to divert. They’re also lies. Jensen’s a good liar and there’s probably enough truth in the story so he can tell it convincingly. The lie doesn’t make his heartbeat stutter, but Jensen’s scent spikes into the sharp tang of nervousness, not in hot anger or heavy sadness.
Jeff could push now, but he has a feeling Jensen would bolt before he told him the truth. And Jeff really wants the truth. Not many people try to lie to a werewolf square in the face. Jeff is very intrigued.
He empties his glass, waits for Jensen to catch up and then pours them another.
“You don’t have to get me drunk,” Jensen says with a teasing smile.
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“You’re very interested.”
Again, Jeff is startled into a laugh.
Jensen’s lips are very red when he smiles. They would look so good around Jeff’s dick.
Regretfully, Jeff strokes his short beard. “I’m not gonna lie, I am. But something this good and this easy, there’s always a catch.”
Jensen tilts his head, considers. He blinks a few times and his eyelashes flutter like dark wings over his cheekbones. “I don’t have any money and I really need a bed for the night. I’m not for rent but finding a handsome guy to invite me into his bed is much more comfortable than sleeping out in the barn.”
It’s not a lie but Jeff knows instinctively it's another half-truth. He’s not sure if Jensen is looking for something, if he’s on the run or if he’s just one of the many homeless drifters, traveling from town to city, picking up work, sometimes honest, sometimes not, unable to settle down.
He wants to find out.
Standing, Jeff takes the bottle. “How about we move this party upstairs?”
Another first, Jensen looks at him in real surprise. “You live here too?”
Jeff laughs. “Nah. But Sam always has a room for me, don’t you, darling?”
Sam doesn’t look but she takes a key from a hook behind her and throws it to Jeff who catches it casually, then makes his way over to the well-worn staircase leading upstairs. He hears Jensen follow.
It’s not Sam’s best room, or her biggest, but it’s got a fireplace and windows on two walls, letting the light of the waxing moon filter inside. Below one of the windows, there’s a big, sturdy wooden bed, the bedposts decorated with carved moons in different stages of the cycle. Jeff is a man with a healthy appetite and a lot of strength, he appreciates robust furniture.
Jensen enters the room behind him, closes the door and drops his bag on one of the two chairs standing around a table next to the door. Then he stops, hesitates. For the first time, he looks his age, young and unsure.
To give him time, Jeff puts down the bottle and lights a fire in the fireplace. When he turns back around, Jensen is still standing in the middle of the room. Jeff knows his reputation, knows how he appears to people. He’s tall and muscled, neither his dark pants nor his black leather jacket hiding that. He’s a predator and he moves like one and his voice is deep and rough. He looks like everyone imagines the alpha of a werewolf pack should look like. In the small room above Sam’s bar, he probably looks even more intimidating.
He shoots Jensen a soothing smile when he notices that the boy’s heartbeat is still fairly steady, considering his hesitancy.
“There’s one condition,” Jensen finally presses out.
“Oh?”
Jensen takes off his coat and throws it over a chair. Then he slowly pulls off his dark scarf, leaving him in a faded beige shirt with a dark vest, and gray pants well worn, the hem fraying over his dark boots.
With sure movements, he pulls off his vest, unbuttons his shirt. “No questions,” he says.
Jeff begins to ask about what, when Jensen takes his shirt off and Jeff understands. The boy is covered in tattoos.
Before he realizes what he’s doing, Jeff moves towards Jensen. He inspects the tattoos on his pale skin, the swirling spiral on his chest, the long, claw like lines across the left side of his lightly muscled abdomen. Jensen’s body is lithe and defined, hips slim and shoulders wide without the muscle mass to make him appear broad. Jeff walks around him, draws in a deep breath. Jensen’s entire back is covered by the tattoo of a large, black raven. Its wings are raised back, its talons stretched forward. It’s poised to grip whatever is in front of its talons. When Jeff inspects the wings, he sees that they’re made up of tiny ravens in every position of flight. It’s an impressive tattoo. If it’s not magic, Jeff’s gonna eat his tail. Ravens are birds of old magic, kept as companions by mages.
Jeff steps up to Jensen, so close he can feel his body heat. He leans in until his nose is only an inch away from Jensen’s neck and he inhales, loud and purposefully.
Leather, earth, and a hint of a tart, flowery scent. The spiky note of whiskey and the unmistakable ripeness of arousal. Good to know Jensen doesn’t only want him for his power. Jeff leans in closer, lets the tip of his nose meet Jensen’s skin. He takes another whiff, concentrating. There, for the first time, he can smell it; the unique scent of magic, something entirely different than anything organic, sharp and singed, but it’s old, faded.
Every new piece of information complicates the puzzle, Jeff thinks. It doesn’t deter him, quite the contrary. Sooner or later, he’s going to find out what happened to Jensen and what he’s looking for.
“You smell like magic,” Jeff says quietly, directly next to Jensen’s ear and the boy, who’s been standing very still so far, shudders.
“No questions.”
“That wasn’t a question, it was a statement.”
Jensen huffs. “You want a medal? It’s old magic and not mine. Don’t tell me it scares you.”
For that, Jeff drags his teeth along Jensen’s neck. With a sharp intake of breath, Jensen whirls around.
“It doesn't scare me,” Jeff says, and it’s true. There’s not a lot of magic that can harm him, not when the magic of the moon and his land flow through him. “Don’t you know that the big bad wolf isn’t scared of anything?”
Jensen raises one eyebrow. “Does that line ever work for you?”
Jeff grins and licks his lips. Deliberately, he puts his hands on Jensen’s hips, feels the smooth, warm skin under his fingers. With a jerk, he pulls Jensen in close.
“I don’t need any lines. You’re the one coming to me.”
Before Jensen can protest or snark back at him, Jeff shuts him up with a kiss. He’s been wanting to taste Jensen’s mouth ever since he saw him with his drink downstairs, and he has a feeling that Jensen would win a verbal sparring match any day. Kissing Jensen seems like the best strategy to keep the upper hand.
At first, Jensen’s entire body is tense, a coil of sinewy muscle ready to spring, but then he relaxes into Jeff’s body. He tilts his head up and presses in, his lips moving against Jeff’s with demanding force.
For a moment, Jeff lets him. He catalogs Jensen’s taste, the feel of his body pressing against Jeff’s, his hands wandering over Jeff’s shoulders, one of them sliding into the hair at the back of his head. Then Jeff grips Jensen’s hip tightly with his left and brings his right hand up to cradle his face, tilt it so Jeff can kiss him deeper, take him how he wants him.
Jensen lets him. The thrill of it rushes through Jeff. This contradictory, snarky boy is yielding to him, letting Jeff touch and taste. With ease, Jeff reaches down and grips Jensen’s leg, pulls him up. The boy goes with it, wraps his legs around Jeff’s waist and lets Jeff carry him to the bed without protest.
Jeff lays Jensen down on the bed, then watches the boy while he takes his own clothes off. Jensen doesn’t make a move to remove his pants or shoes, instead he lies back propped up on his elbows and watches Jeff intently. His big green eyes are luminous in the firelight, the flames’ shadows dancing ominously over his tattoos.
Lying there, half-naked and relaxed, a predatory gleam in his eyes, he looks more dangerous than ever. It makes Jeff’s blood sing in anticipation, pulls his hunting instincts to the surface. There’s danger here, but Jeff has his eyes on the prize.
When he’s naked, he crawls up the bed. Jensen just spreads his legs to make room for him. Slowly, Jeff noses up Jensen’s leg, reaches up to open his pants and pull them down. When he reaches Jensen’s feet, he tugs his boots off too.
Jensen’s right foot is unmarked, but his left foot is covered in leaves. Jeff grips his ankle, almost expects to feel the leaves, so realistic is their depiction. But there’s only smooth skin under his hands and then Jensen’s foot twitches and he tries to pull it out of Jeff’s grasp.
Jeff grins up at him. “Ticklish?”
Jensen glares. “You better not try it out if you want to get laid tonight.”
Jeff laughs, but doesn’t let go of Jensen’s foot. He’s careful though only to grip the ankle, while he crawls up in the bed, pulling Jensen’s leg up with him until it’s bent at the knee, half cradling Jeff’s body as he hovers over Jensen.
“No tickling then,” he says quietly.
“Good,” Jensen says and draws up his other leg, hooking his foot up against Jeff’s ass and pulling him closer.
The air is heavy with anticipation and the scent of their arousal. Jeff can feel Jensen’s hardness between his legs, his erection rubbing against Jeff’s. He really wants to take his time, figure out what will make Jensen fall apart, but then Jensen’s mouth finds his neck, works his way up with biting kisses, sucking bruises that won’t last into Jeff’s skin. The sensation is still electrifying, sending shivers down Jeff’s spine, building on the urgency humming along under his skin.
Jensen’s fingers dig into his shoulder, scratch along the bloody-grinned fool tattooed on his upper arm. Dragging in deep lungfuls of Jensen’s arousal drenched scent, Jeff leans down, noses along Jensen’s collarbone until he finally gets his mouth on Jensen’s pulse point. To his deep satisfaction, Jensen’s pulse is quick, beating strongly under Jeff’s lips. He grins, then drags his teeth over it.
Jensen moans, tightens his legs around Jeff’s waist. “Come on.”
Jeff decides that he can take it slow another time. Maybe he's gonna fuck Jensen again when the sun is rising, when he's still sleepy and pliant. Now that Jensen is a writhing and demanding mess beneath him Jeff just wants to hold him down and fuck him until he comes screaming Jeff's name.
It doesn't take Jeff more than a few seconds to get the small bottle of oil from the nightstand drawer but when he looks back to Jensen, the boy is on all fours. He's looking at Jeff over his shoulder with an insolent, daring smile while he arches his spine, offering his pale and firm ass like the prize it is.
It takes Jeff a moment to realize that the growl vibrating through the room is coming from deep within his own chest and for the first time this evening Jensen looks startled. With his vision focused in a way that lets him see the flecks of gold in Jensen's green irises, reduced to a slim ring around blown pupils, Jeff realizes he's shifting unconsciously towards his wolf form. He blinks and shakes his head like a wolf shaking water from his fur. His vision goes back to human, losing the wolf's yellow glow that probably startled Jensen.
“Scared of the big bad wolf?” Jeff asks and slowly reaches out to run his hands over Jensen's back down to his ass.
Instead of flinching away like Jeff almost expected, Jensen closes his eyes and arches up into Jeff's hands. “Scared is not the word I'd use.”
It makes something in Jeff bristle, makes him want to bare his teeth, but it also makes him want to preen. Jensen might not be scared of Jeff's wolf but he's aroused by it. Jeff can work with that.
He covers Jensen’s body with his own and growls at the feeling of Jensen’s lithe but strong body, the smooth skin and the way Jeff can feel his muscles tense in anticipation.
Jensen’s reaction is more than satisfying. He lets out a moan he tries cut off before Jeff hears it and his heartbeat picks up, a choppy staccato that makes Jeff rumble in pleasure. It's more instinct than anything else when he licks up Jensen’s neck, scraping his teeth along the tendons until he gets to the part where neck meets shoulder and he bites down.
Jensen curses under his breath and reaches back to get a hand in Jeff's hair. “Come on, fuck me already.”
Jeff grins against Jensen’s skin and explores his upper body with his hands. “Ask nicely.”
Jensen makes a frustrated noise. “I don't beg, asshole.”
Jeff is just about to go for a teasing reply when Jensen moves his body, does something with his hips too smooth for Jeff to compute. All he knows is that suddenly his dick is trapped between Jensen's moving thighs, and the pressure and the friction make him groan.
“Let's play later, okay?” Jensen pants out. “I really need you to fuck me now.”
“Just so you know,” Jeff manages to get out while he gets his fingers and his dick slick with oil, “that counts as begging.”
“You…” whatever else Jensen wanted to say gets swallowed up in the prettiest moan when Jeff slides two fingers inside of him.
He's hot and tight and Jeff needs to draw on all his self-control to take the time to relax Jensen enough instead of just taking him.
He loses sense of time. There's nothing but Jensen’s body, the sounds of his labored breathing and his hammering heart, and the scent of his arousal tinged with a strange but almost familiar sharpness.
But then Jensen turns his head to look at him, eyes half lidded and mouth bitten red. “I'm ready. You can fuck me, I'm ready.”
Jeff's body runs on his primal instincts when he grips Jensen’s hips and shoves roughly inside. There's heat and pressure and his wolf howls in triumph.
He moves his hips driven by the need to be closer, to hold and possess. Jensen moves with him, panting half intelligible curses and praise which make Jeff's chest swell with pride.
As their bodies move in sync in a perfect and violent push and pull, Jeff feels his body thrill with the power of the moon. The heady rush he only experiences under the full moon in his wolf form takes him by surprise but with Jensen under him, it feels right.
“Oh Gods.” Jensen falls down to his elbows. “Do that again.”
Through the haze of pleasure Jeff manages to recreate the angle and find the spot that makes Jensen scream.
Jeff's own orgasm is building, his whole body singing with the moon's power and Jensen’s presence.
Then Jensen comes, body clenching around Jeff, head thrown back and moaning Jeff's name.
The rush of power and pleasure, the pressure of Jensen’s body, it makes Jeff howl as he comes. In the aftershocks, he collapses on Jensen’s back, suddenly completely drained like he'd run a whole night under the full moon. His entire body is tingling pleasantly and Jensen’s satisfied, yet tired scent fills his nose. He has the presence of mind to roll off of Jensen so he doesn't squash him and a moment to think that this was different before sleep pulls him under. His last conscious feeling is Jensen lying safely in his arms.
Jensen wakes with the sunrise. It’s still ingrained in him, this habit from his childhood. With the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon, the rooster traveling with his parents’ wagon had crowed, shrill and loud. Usually it stood on the ledge right outside of Jensen’s window. But Jensen had remained in bed, luxuriating in the time it took his father to come wake him. Some days, his father was up quickly and Jensen had only moments to enjoy the warm softness of his bed. Other days, close to a quarter hour passed until the curtain from his alcove was pulled back.
Now that he’s on his own, Jensen still wakes with the sun. He keeps lying in bed, at least for a few moments, when he’s in that space where he can pretend all is okay; where his day, and the ugly world he now lives in, hasn’t started yet.
When there’s a two hundred pound werewolf lying next to him and heating the bed up like a furnace, the pretending is difficult.
Jeff is sleeping peacefully, deep even breaths. He doesn’t snore. Jensen supposes he should be grateful for the little things.
He stretches, and he’s sore everywhere, in the good way. His ass might protest today, but there’s nowhere he’s got to go. He hadn’t planned on this, but, then again, Jensen hadn’t planned on any of this.
Last night was different than usual. He'd never slept with a werewolf before or any other supernatural creature for that matter. It’s an unnecessary risk to expose himself. But Jeff could protect him. He's got a reputation as one of the most powerful alphas ruling an ancient and vast territory. From the stories Jensen had thought Jeff would be much older, then again werewolves live longer than humans do. Jeff might very well be eighty years old, even though he doesn't look any older than his late thirties. His face is smooth and unlined, only his salt and pepper beard gives the impression of a higher age. It doesn't really matter to Jensen. Jeff is a powerful alpha in his prime and the story of how he dealt with his last challenger is told in fearful whispers far and wide. If Jensen plays his cards right he could rest here, make a plan. Hide from the minions he sensed catching up. Last night, he'd felt the magic of the moon that fuels werewolves’ powers. His raven tattoo had tingled with it, strained towards it. He's not sure if Jeff noticed but Jensen is pretty sure he wouldn't draw the right conclusions. Then again, what Jensen is, what Timothy turned him into, it's unheard of. And the way Jensen felt Jeff's powers, running through the werewolf and calling to Jensen, just out of reach, it made him think. Considering how energized Jensen felt, some of Jeff’s power might even have flown into the ravens. He was awake long after Jeff had fallen asleep, hadn't closed his eyes before he came up with a plan.
Well, it's really more a half-formed idea than a plan. He hadn’t even considered the possibility before he met Jeff last night. He’d planned on passing through Jeff’s territory undetected. Werewolves are supposed to be wild and savage, with a keen nose for trouble. Jensen hadn’t thought the alpha of the Lawrence pack would hang out in a dingy little roadhouse.
It might work out in his favor. Jensen can’t be sure, he’ll have to do some research — and how he’s supposed to get his hands on the right books out here in the middle of nowhere he has no idea — but for now, he should be safe.
Jeff’s reputation is well known and no one who brings trouble would think to come here. Timothy will never suspect him out here. It’ll be a while before his minions will think to search for Jensen in werewolf territory. Jensen has time.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Jeff’s rough voice startles him. The werewolf is still lying on his back, eyes closed, but his arm comes up to cup Jensen’s head, blunt fingernails softly scratching his scalp.
Jensen sighs and rolls over, resting his head on Jeff’s broad chest. He runs his hand through the dark hairs there, not as many and not as thick as he would have thought. He likes it. Jeff’s body is solid and strong and the human touch grounds him.
“Thanks for the bed,” Jensen says instead of answering Jeff’s question.
“Thanks for gracing it with your presence,” Jeff answers and runs his hand down Jensen’s back. It makes the raven tattoo tingle. That’s new. It's never reacted to touch before. Maybe it's residue from last night. Usually it only tingles when Timothy’s minions are close, like a warning bell. It had tingled two days ago. The minions are closing in on him.
“Does it come with complimentary breakfast?” Jensen asks to distract himself.
Jeff huffs. “You’re gonna stick around long enough for some eggs and bacon?”
Jensen looks up at him. “You wanna get rid of me?”
Jeff’s thick eyebrows raise up sharply. “I don’t want to get rid of you at all. But last night I got the impression you were the blowing-through-town kind of guy.”
With a grin, Jensen lies back down, burrows closer into Jeff’s side and feels his arm tighten around him. “Nah. I’m more the aimless-wandering kind of guy. I could be persuaded to stay.”
Before Jensen has fully processed the movement, Jeff has already rolled him on his back and is looming over him with a predatory grin. “Is that so?” he asks, his voice dipped down to a low growl.
“With breakfast,” Jensen says with emphasis, because he really is starving and he learned early on that running on an empty stomach is not a good idea.
He’s not sure when he had his last real meal, maybe four days ago when he met a shepherd out with his herd and dogs. The man had enthusiastically shared his food and sleeping bag with Jensen. It had been nice, but it doesn’t compare to the feelings Jeff arouses in his body.
Jeff just laughs, a low smooth sound that makes Jensen’s stomach flip. “Breakfast is on its way. In the meantime…” And then he bends his head to nose along Jensen’s neck, bites a spot just above his collarbone that makes Jensen hiss.
He’s pretty sure Jeff marked him up good, the werewolf has a predictable proclivity for Jensen’s neck. Jensen’s just surprised how much that turns him on.
“I also thought a bath before breakfast…”
He trails off when Jeff raises his head to look at him. His eyes are glowing, a faint amber. “You really want to leave this bed today?”
For a moment, Jensen is spellbound, just like last night, when he saw Jeff’s wolf eyes for the first time. He was scared at first, but only for a moment.
Jeff might be an alpha werewolf, might be able to tear Jensen into tiny pieces with his bare hands but he’s not going to hurt Jensen. He likes Jensen, likes his body and likes the mystery of him. And that’s not going to change. Jeff’s probably the best lay Jensen's ever had so he’s going to keep offering his body to him. And he’s certainly not going to tell Jeff why he’s out here, hiding in the middle of werewolf territory. He might have to drop some hints, here and there, to let Jeff think he’s getting somewhere. But he’s not going to tell his story until he knows he's safe. And for that, he’ll need books.
There’s time for that later. Now, Jensen can let himself sink back into the soft pillow, can let Jeff manhandle him around with his strong capable hands. Sex before breakfast, Jensen thinks as Jeff pushes inside, is a thing he can get used to.
Sam left a tray with breakfast outside the door sometime during their morning fuck. Jeff’s nose picks up the scent of bacon while he’s lying next to Jensen in the rumpled sheets, despite the fact that the bed, hell the whole room, reeks of them. He gets up and opens a window before getting the breakfast tray. As much as he likes smelling them together, he’s a fan of fresh air.
Jensen’s sitting up against the headboard, his eyes tracking the tray. Jeff wonders when the boy last ate but he doubts he’d get a straight answer if he asks.
“Breakfast is served,” is all he says and they eat in companionable silence. Sam made a big breakfast and Jeff watches Jensen demolish half the serving before Jeff’s through half his plate.
Jensen only notices when he’s done how quickly he ate. A faint blush steals up his cheeks. “Keeping up with a werewolf takes a lot of energy.”
Jeff nods amicably, but he has a feeling it’s been awhile since Jensen had a proper meal. He makes a mental note to tell Sam to send them a big lunch and a big dinner. It’s a good thing she loves feeding up strays.
After breakfast, Jensen demands a bath again and Jeff watches him step into the tub Sam’s servants bring up. The expression on Jensen’s face is pure relaxed pleasure as he leans back and closes his eyes. Jeff can’t resist and gets himself a small stool to sit down next to Jensen’s head, picking up the sponge.
Jensen makes a pleased rumble when Jeff starts to rub the soapy sponge across his arms and chest.
“So, what’s your plan here?” he asks.
Jensen squints one eye open. “I told you, I’m wandering. There’s no plan.”
There’s no audible lie but Jeff still has the feeling Jensen’s hiding something. Best not to have Jensen around tonight. Jeff needs to get his feelers out, see what shit is brewing in the world.
“I have friends coming into town tonight,” Jeff says. “I’ll talk to Sam, make sure you can stay up here.”
Jensen opens both eyes and turns his head to Jeff. “What, no invitation to meet the friends yet?”
Jeff snorts.
Jensen grins. “Fine. I’ll just take a walk into town. My bag’s falling apart, I hope there’s someone there who can fix it.”
Again, no lie, and again Jeff’s sure Jensen is hiding something. Well, he’ll figure it out eventually. For now, he’s gonna join Jensen in the tub and watch his rosy-warmed skin while he rides Jeff’s dick.
Jim and Alaina ride into town, the first gusts of stormy winds billowing their coats. The clouds have been building on the horizon all day, a dark front of clouds just waiting to release their cold power.
Jeff met them before he became alpha, back when he was traveling. Jim was a young, hapless scholar, protecting his only valuable possession, the chronicle he was writing, with a stick from two robbers. Jeff had assisted and in return, he’d been named heroically in said chronicle.
Jim and Jeff traveled together for a while until a lord asked them to get rid of the beast terrorizing his land. In the woods, Jeff had found a vicious tiger who turned into a beautiful, redeheaded woman. After she told him why she terrorized the stealing, brutal lord, Jeff had switched sides and aided in her efforts to displace the lord. Jim had, once again, written everything down neatly. An experience like that forges lifelong bonds.
“You made it just in time,” Jeff comments when they enter the bar and he can’t stop himself from scanning the road. Jensen made his way into town a couple of hours ago and he’s not back yet.
Jeff told him he could come back whenever, that he wouldn’t mind him hanging out upstairs and Jensen had kissed his cheek and told him he’d see him later.
“Jeff!”
Startled, he looks at Alaina. “What are you yelling at me for?”
She raises her eyebrows sardonically. “Well, if you don’t answer the first three times I say your name because you’re too busy dreaming about some new piece of ass…”
“I was not—”
“Oh please,” she says and boxes his shoulder. Jeff hides a flinch. “I can smell him all over you.” She smirks. “Do we get to meet him?”
“No,” Jeff grumbles and makes his way to the back of the tap room, to his usual table. “And keep your nose out of my personal business.”
Alaina’s deep scratchy laugh follows him through the room.
Jim’s already at the bar, doing his gruff-flirty dance with Sam. He’s going to be awkward, she’s going to tease him and at the end of the night, she’s going to invite him into the back, where circular stairs lead from the storeroom up to her own apartment.
Everybody knows how the night’s going to end for the two of them, but they still do their little dance. Jeff figures it’s their own version of foreplay.
Jeff and Alaina sit and it doesn’t take Jim long to come over with their drinks. Red wine, the good one from the deepest corner of Sam’s cellar for Alaina, beer for Jeff and dark ale for Jim. Not many people around here drink it so Jeff figures Sam keeps it in stock for Jim. He always says it reminds him of home.
They clink their glasses and catch up with each other. Jeff tells them about the alpha stupid enough to challenge him a few months ago.
“Did you kill him?” Alaina asks.
Jeff nods. “He was the third challenger in as many years. People seem to think that I’ve grown soft. Now, I don’t mind the occasional fight but I do mind the disrespect.”
Jim’s expression is disapproving but Alaina raises her glass to Jeff. “This is why I like you.”
“Enough about me,” Jeff says. “What about you two?”
Alaina grins. “Well, I Ieft the Earl of Glencraig, because let’s be serious, the castle was nice but he was such a bore. He wanted to play chess with me!” Alaina shakes her head at the memory, so harshly, that her red hair falls into her face. Carefully, she rearranges her long locks and gives Jeff a sly smile. “So, is that cute blacksmith still living in the city?”
Jeff laughs. “He lost a finger to the forge, but he’s still around.”
“Well, if a finger is all he lost...”
They all laugh, Sam brings them a round of the whiskey she keeps in the back and their conversation shifts to more serious topics. There’s always a war brewing and strife is growing in the mage’s Coterie of the Five. Even though Jeff usually avoids their local liaison like the plague because he doesn’t want anything to do with their dealings, he might have to pay her a visit soon to get some first-hand information.
Outside, the thunder crashes directly over them. The storm has finally reached the roadhouse and Jeff can’t help but wonder if Jensen will find shelter. It doesn’t freeze over during the night anymore but it’s still only spring and with the rain and the wind it’s gonna get chilly. Jeff listens to Jim tell a story about bard Robert’s latest mishap but his mind keeps wandering to Jensen.
Just when Jensen resigns himself to probably freezing to death in the biting wind and the ice cold rain pelting his body, he sees a light in the distance. He debates for a moment whether he should ask a stranger for help, then the sky cracks and shakes and a giant bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, its many arms so bright for a moment it’s almost as if it’s day. Jensen can see a little house up ahead of him, a rickety pentagonal tower built onto its side.
The cold spreading through him now has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the building’s architecture. It might hold the key to Jensen figuring out what he needs to know, but right now he’ll take his chances with the thunderstorm.
As if the storm hears him and wants to prove its dominance, the wind picks up and the rain intensifies. Jensen can’t see more than a few paces and when he takes a step, he almost slips on the muddy road. During the next lightning flash, he spots a little grove of trees ahead which might give him shelter. It’s halfway to the little house with the tower but Jensen doubts whoever lives there will be looking outside the window in this weather. Unless they’re commanding the storm to make him come to them, of course. Jensen shakes his head at the paranoid thought. Timothy works alone and if his minions had caught up with Jensen, they’d jump on him instead of trying to lay an elaborate trap.
He hurries over to the trees and climbs the thick gnarly roots of a tree that are growing over ground. The treetops only provide a very limited cover but at least he’s not standing in the mud anymore. He wraps his arms around himself and hopes he won’t get pneumonia.
The next thunder shakes the sky so loud it hurts his ears. Another splintering crash follows, much closer, and Jensen looks up just in time to see one of the branches over him crash down through the shrubbery. Jensen jumps out of the way, landing in the wet mud and with a painful thud the tree limb hits his leg.
“Fuck!”
Jensen drags his leg out from under the branch and during the next lightning flash he sees a dark stain spread on his gray pants.
“You really shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
The high voice startles Jensen and the haste with which he sits up makes pain shoot up his leg.
A few feet away, there’s a woman. She’s wearing a dark cloak with a few strands of bright red hair poking out from the hood and it takes Jensen a few seconds to process why she looks so strange. The rain, the wind — it’s not touching her. An invisible bell is protecting her from the storm. So Jensen’s meeting the inhabitant of the little house with the tower after all.
She steps towards him and stretches out her hand. “Come on. You must be hurting and cold. I can help.”
There’s nothing malicious in her eyes, no deception, no hint of evil. The raven on his back is quiet. Jensen takes her hand. Not that he has another choice here, really.
She helps him up and as soon as he’s next to her, he’s protected by whatever spell is shielding her from the weather.
“Let’s hurry,” she says, her eyes worriedly searching his face. “Your lips are as blue as the violets in my garden.”
Jensen tries to speak but his teeth are chattering so badly that he just nods. Together with the mage, he hobbles towards her house.
“I’m Felicia,” the mage introduces herself. “And who might you be?”
“Jensen.” After a moment of deliberation, he adds, “a friend of Jeff’s. A very intimate friend if you know what I mean.”
Felicia’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are we at the point in our relationship where we brag about our sexual conquests already? Because then I can tell you about the hot fling I had with this dragon slayer who passed through town a few months ago.”
Jensen stares. He’s not sure if he’s being mocked or if Felicia is serious but then the path rises and he struggles to keep up on his injured leg.
They don’t talk again until they’re in the house. In a no-nonsense voice Felicia orders him to strip and draws a comfy looking armchair close to the small fireplace. Felicia’s house is bare, only the necessary furniture and no knickknacks lying around.
Jensen sheds his wet bag and clothes, only keeping his underpants and his shirt on and limps to the fire. He stands as close to the fire as he can bear and feels the heat prickling in his extremities. Looking down he examines the gash the tree left, but it’s not as big as he feared.
“Sit,” Felicia commands and hold up bandages and a pot with salve. “I’m not good with healing magic but this’ll help too.”
Carefully, Jensen stretches his leg out. “Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it.”
Felicia gives him a bright smile. “Of course. I couldn’t just leave you out there. Besides, we’ll be good friends, I just know it.”
And then, while she cleans his wounds, applies the nasty smelling salve and wraps his leg, she proceeds to tell Jensen everything about how the great dragon slayer Tiio Horn had wooed her while her horse was getting new shoes at the blacksmith’s.
Jensen tries to listen, to stay conscious and alert, but he’s finally warming up and the fire’s warmth and his exhaustion are quickly pulling him into sleep.
When Jensen wakes, the fire has dimmed down. Felicia is sitting in a rocking chair, knitting something that looks like a green and white scarf.
He sits up and flexes his leg. The pain’s still there but it’s much better than before. Whatever Felicia put on the wound, it worked.
“You’re up!” she says and she sounds incredibly happy about that. “Do you want some food? I have lots of leftovers from my dinner.”
Now that she mentions it, Jensen realizes how hungry he is. “Sure. Food would be nice.”
Felicia gives him a bright smile and walks towards what Jensen assumes is the kitchen.
He has no intention of staying longer than he has to but it’s still dark out. Jensen is a realist. He’ll have to spend the night here and thankfully he won't do it with an empty stomach. And even though the lingering smells of herbs and magic threaten to drag up memories he’d rather not think about, Felicia doesn’t seem like the evil type.
Rationally, Jensen knows not all mages are evil. Probably not even every member of the Coterie of the Five. That doesn’t mean he’ll let down his guard. But if Felicia takes a liking to him, maybe he could come back, check out the tower. If it’s anything like a regular mage’s house, it’s full of all her books. It’s probably much better than a regular town library.
Felicia comes back with two bowls, filled with a steaming stew. The smell isn’t promising and when Jensen tries his first spoonful, he almost spits it out again. It’s truly disgusting.
“I hope you like it,” Felicia says brightly. “It’s my mentor’s old recipe. She said I never really got it right, but practice makes perfect, right?”
Jensen forces himself to swallow and then fakes the nicest smile he can. Felicia looks just too hopeful to disappoint.
“It’s good,” he tells her and he's glad she’s no werewolf. If she were, she’d definitely have detected the lie.
She beams at him and eats her own portion. Jensen wonders if she burned off her tastebuds in a freak experiment.
“So,” she asks around a mouthful. “What brings you out here? Not that I mind the company! I don’t have much, company, I mean, not many people travel through here. Alpha Morgan, you know, he has a reputation.” She stops, then horror dawns on her face. “Not that I mean he’s a bad man or anything, he’s great.” She blushes and gesticulates so hard, she almost throws her bowl on the floor. “I still wish he wouldn't have killed that one challenger, that was really… but of course totally his right! I would never suggest he wasn’t right!”
Jensen fights to keep his face even.
“He’s so nice, and the one time he met with me, he was really polite, so really, I love him! I mean, not love-love, just like-love,” she backtracks quickly and now Jensen really has to laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell him anything.”
Felicia slumps in her seat. “Oh, thank the source. Really, I mean no disrespect, it’s just so boring out here! When the Coterie sent me it sounded so adventurous, liaison to a werewolf pack, and such an old and powerful one! But Alpha Morgan doesn’t seem to like the Coterie much.”
Who does? Jensen thinks but doesn't say. The Coterie of the Five is the council of the most powerful mages. There aren’t only five of them, that’s a reference of the four elements and what they call the source, the magic they’re born with that allows them to manipulate the elements to perform magic. They advise rulers and people of influence and they maintain relations with the powerful creatures of the supernatural world. They propagate their neutrality and their purpose as advisers and helpers. But really, everybody knows they are a meddlesome bunch who are not above pursuing their own agendas and what they think is the right way. Thankfully there aren’t enough mages around to enforce their every whim. Yet, at least. If Timothy has his way, the future looks dark for every non-mage.
“I have no idea what Jeff thinks about the Coterie,” Jensen tells Felicia honestly — well mostly honestly. Being the kind of man Jeff is Jensen can make a pretty educated guess what he thinks about the Coterie and Felicia being here. “I can put in a good word for you, if you want,” he offers because he needs Felicia to be his friend. He needs information and she's the best source he's going to find out here.
Her whole face lights up. “You'd do that for me?”
Jensen gives her a friendly smile. Felicia really is different from the mages he’s met before. “Of course. You saved my life tonight. And besides I'd love to be friends. I haven’t really met anyone out here yet, apart from Jeff of course, but he’s not really someone I want to be friends with, if you know what I mean.”
Felicia’s eyes start to sparkle. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about what you want with him then.”
Jensen smiles conspiratorially and proceeds to tell her the lightly edited version of how he and Jeff met, leaving out all the suspicion and Jeff's questions about what exactly Jensen is doing in Lawrence. Because that's not something he can share with Felicia either. In the beginning when Timothy had first taken him, Jensen had thought about fleeing to the Coterie, leaving Timothy's punishment in their hands. Since Jensen can't be sure they won't kill him to destroy all of Timothy's work he'll have to come up with another way to be safe. With Felicia’s unknowing help, he might even be able to pull it off. As long as Jeff doesn't lose interest in him of course. But he'll worry about that when he gets back to the roadhouse. For now he’s going to bond with Felicia, the nicest, and most guileless mage he ever met.
Jeff wakes when the door creaks open. He keeps lying still, every muscle tensed in preparation for a fight, then Jensen’s smell registers. Jensen’s back.
It’s still dark outside, but the pitch black sky is giving way to the light blues of the breaking dawn. Jensen is slowly moving through the room, taking off his coat and boots. Jeff closes his eyes again, pretending to sleep and listens to Jensen taking the rest of his clothes off and walking over to the bed. Something’s off with his gait and when Jeff smells blood, he’s sitting up, reaching for Jensen before he knows what he’s doing.
Jensen flinches back but Jeff's got a good hold on him.
“Fuck, you scared me.”
Jeff draws Jensen close and scans his body, trying to figure out where the blood is coming from. “You're hurt.”
Jensen tries to push him off. “The trees here don't like me, it's no big deal.”
Finally, Jeff finds the bandage wrapped around Jensen's left calf. “And who patched you up?”
“Felicia. Now stop smelling my wound, it's creepy and completely unnecessary. It's not that bad.”
Jeff looks up at Jensen then. Ever since he’s taken over as alpha almost two decades ago, looking after his people has become second nature. “Checking someone’s injury is never creepy or unnecessary.”
Jensen just rolls his eyes and takes the rest of his clothes off. Satisfied that he’s fine, Jeff reaches for him but to his surprise, Jensen stops him with his hands to Jeff’s chest.
“I might be fine, but it still hurts and I’m fucking tired.”
Jeff grumbles, but it’s more for show. He gets a slap to the shoulder for it, but then Jensen worms himself into Jeff’s arms. The little stray is really cuddly, almost starved for physical contact.
“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Jensen mumbles, already half asleep.
Jeff just strokes his hair and listens to his breathing even out. Jensen’s out like a light within a few breaths.
Jeff wakes on his back, Jensen lying between his legs and sucking his dick. Even though he’d been fantasizing about this from the moment he saw Jensen’s mouth, they hadn’t gotten around to it yet, until now. He reaches for Jensen’s head, just softly stroking his hair, because Jensen doesn’t need guidance or encouragement. The boy’s either a natural or he had a lot of practice.
So Jeff gets comfortable, propped up on his pillow and watches Jensen blow him. It’s truly a religious experience and even though Jeff tries to last, to enjoy, it doesn’t take long for him to come.
Jensen grins up at him with swollen lips. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”
“How’s the leg?” Jeff asks with a scratchy voice.
“All good,” Jensen says.
Jeff just hauls him up into his lap and jacks him off, not quite able to form sentences yet. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers dig into Jeff’s back, holding on as if for dear life until he comes, panting against Jeff’s shoulder.
They fall back against the headboard and Jeff’s relaxed enough to doze off again. Starting the day with Jensen in his bed is quickly becoming addicting.
They spend another day in bed. Sam sends up food and when they’re too tired to fuck, Jeff tries to start a conversation, getting some information out of Jensen maybe. But Jensen’s a clever little shit and finds the pack of cards in the nightstand. So Jeff indulges him and they play Queen’s Gambit until Jeff catches Jensen cheating and the subsequent playful wrangling leads to more sex. When the sun sets, they go downstairs and have a few beers with a bunch of traveling merchants.
Jeff watches Jensen charm the group and tries to figure out which kind of news Jensen is after with his carefully phrased questions but he can’t figure it out.
When one of the merchants gets out his lute, Jensen sings. His voice is deep and smooth, and he hits every note. With practiced ease his voice carries through the room. The people in the roadhouse are spellbound and when he’s done singing they applaud wildly. More than one drink is sent to their table. Jensen accepts the compliments with smooth gratefulness. This is not the first time he’s performed for a crowd.
“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Jeff asks when the commotion finally dies down.
Jensen shrugs. “Natural talent.”
Talent he might have, but Jensen has experience with performing and talent alone doesn’t grant one the ability to sing with flawless technique. Jeff’s not a great singer himself, but he has a good ear. Why Jensen is lying about this, he has no idea, but Jensen’s secrecy is slowly becoming frustrating. Jeff wonders if he’s worth the trouble. As if Jensen is sensing Jeff’s mood, he teases Jeff with his mouth that night until Jeff thinks he’s going crazy. Only then does Jensen take him in and ride him until Jeff sees stars.
It’s time to go back. The full moon is tomorrow night and Jeff’s been away longer from his pack than planned. He should have been back yesterday but the promise of Jensen in his bed was too enticing to leave. With the full moon coming, he needs to get home. His pack would survive without him for a few weeks of course, maybe even longer — Kim is a good second — but it’s important the alpha is present for the night of the full moon. It’s when their power is strongest, when the magic of the moon and the earth flow the most freely, Jeff’s the intersection between pack and land. It works, no matter where on packland he is, but it’s stronger the closer he is to his people.
Jeff’s already up and dressed. Jensen’s still sleeping in the rumpled sheets. They stayed up late last night and they had a few glasses to drink.
The boy is still as much of a riddle as when Jeff met him. He’s not sure what to do about him, and it pisses him off. Jeff’s not the undecided type, if there’s a problem he takes action. But Jensen’s business is his own and Jeff has no right to stick his nose into it. If Jensen were to stay, that would be different. Then Jeff would have leverage to question him because no one stays on his land without permission and the pack’s territory extends far beyond their town in the woods.
As it is Jeff will go back to his pack and Jensen will go his way. The knowledge is like an itch under his skin, Jeff hates unfinished business. For a brief moment when he woke this morning, Jensen lying with his head pillowed on Jeff’s arm, he even entertained the idea of inviting Jensen back to the pack village.
Jeff shakes his head at himself. No one brings strangers to the village, least of all the alpha. He’d gotten out of bed without waking Jensen for a final fuck. The boy messes with his head badly enough as it is.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
Jensen’s sleepy-rough voice is almost enough to make Jeff go back to bed.
“I have pack business to take care of.”
The boy stretches, muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing. He sits up and eyes Jeff with a look he can't quite decipher. Behind the careless facade he’s trying to put on, there’s frustration and resignation and something else Jeff’s not quite sure about.
“Are you coming back?”
Jeff shrugs. “Maybe.”
It’s a shit answer. There’s no reason he couldn’t come to the roadhouse after the full moon but he can’t keep making a habit of it and he’s already way too addicted to Jensen.
“Does it matter?” Jeff asks. “I didn’t think you’d want to hang around for long.”
Jensen shrugs. “I might. I made some friends in town, maybe got a job.”
Since Jensen never mentioned any of this the last few days, Jeff doesn’t think it’s true but it makes him wonder why Jensen would stick around. Jeff knows he’s good in bed but he never thought it’d be enough to make someone settle in a dingy roadhouse when the road is calling.
“Well, then, I might see you around.”
With a smile, Jensen gets out of bed. He’s completely naked and the sun lights his skin up in soft golden tones.
“Have fun,” he says while he stands on his tiptoes to kiss Jeff on the mouth, but the tone of his voice reminds Jeff of the fun they had just last night.
He can’t stop himself from gripping Jensen’s ass and respond to his kiss. It’s hard and with a desperate edge that almost makes Jeff hesitate. When he pulls back, Jensen gives him a smile filled with dirty promises.
“If you come by in the next week, you might find me at the saddler’s.”
“Good to know.” Jeff gives him one last kiss, then he leaves.
It doesn’t sit well with him, leaving Jensen like this, but he can’t keep hanging around the roadhouse waiting for Jensen to decide to leave. Sure, the boy’s a damn good lay and a fun way to spend time, but Jeff has a pack to lead. He doesn’t have time for mysterious wanderers, no matter how smart, charming, talented or pretty they might be.
Outside, Jeff glances back at the second floor of the roadhouse one last time. He suppresses a self-deprecating smile. There was a time, decades ago, when he was the young mysterious wanderer, traveling through the lands, looking for adventure and searching for himself, leaving a string of lovers behind. If he’s honest with himself, he misses it. Life with the pack is good, but mostly quiet. It fills the need for company and society in him, soothes his wolf and gives him an anchor. But he remembers the rush of danger, the thrill of the unknown.
He has to laugh at himself. The reason he’s so intrigued by Jensen is probably only half the boy and half what he reminds Jeff of. Jeff starts the walk back to his pack and wonders if he settled down too early. He doesn't come to a satisfying conclusion but with every step that carries him farther away from Jensen, his suspicion grows that he won't be able to stay away from him for long.