Microsoft Word - Jacks-Marcy-Hunted-and-on-the-Run.doc (6 page)

Breathy moans were the only thing that would leave Storm’s throat. He still wasn’t entirely certain about this mating thing, but if John continued to fuck him like this, then he would believe whatever the other man wanted him to.

John took advantage of Storm’s open mouth and kissed him. He seemed to think that all they needed to do was kiss while they had sex.

No, not just that, Storm realized with a start. They wouldn’t be kissing at all if this was sex for the sake of sex.

John was making love to him. In his own, clumsy way, he was claiming Storm as his own, trying to show him that they belonged together with his body.

He didn’t have the brain power to be thinking about something of that magnitude just now. He wanted to enjoy himself, nothing more and nothing less. All he knew was how nice and good and right it felt, so he went along with it.

Instead of simply holding onto his cock to prevent orgasm, Storm started jerking himself in earnest. He humped against John and his own hand with hard determination. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

His balls were heavy, and everything inside of him demanded release.

He held off for as long as he could, and now that was no longer a possibility.

He pulled away from John’s mouth and gripped the man to him as tightly as he could. “Oh yes, fuck me faster, yes, like that!” he shouted.

John groaned, but his hips continued to pump like there was a
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turbo engine inside him somewhere.

“Love fucking you, you’re mine, not letting you go.”

Storm heard those words inside of his head right before the dam broke and he was coming all over his stomach. The release was drawn out for him because he’d spent all that time holding back, and every thought and worry inside of his head vanished as he shouted out his orgasm.

John was still inside him, still thrusting when Storm came down from his high. He was the sort of man who got tired after sex, and even with the continued pleasurable jolts he got from having John’s cock continually prodding his prostate, that wasn’t enough to keep his mind from slipping away.

John came inside him again, and Storm knew they were both going to need a shower, but neither got up to clean off.

John’s body collapsed on top of Storm’s. Storm could hear the erratic beating of the man’s heart as he was snuggled, and that little satisfied smile never left John’s face, even as John pulled out of him and they got into a more comfortable position better suited for sleeping and snuggling.

“You’re mine now,” John said.

Technically, because of the debt he owed, Storm already had been his, but he didn’t say anything. He only nodded, and that seemed to satisfy the other man.

It had to have been the glow of two recent orgasms that would cause an alpha werewolf of all creatures to behave in such a way because John continued to hold him and cuddle him, as though he were a teddy bear or something.

“I love you,” John said, his voice low and sighing pleasurably as the words left his mouth.

Storm was hardly worried or moved by the declaration. “That’s only because you say I am your mate. And because I just gave you your first sex,” he added as an afterthought.

John didn’t hear him. A soft snore left his throat, his chest rising
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and falling gently as he slept on top of Storm, with his head tucked under Storm’s chin.

Storm stroked his hair. John’s weight was hardly enough to make him uncomfortable, and the warmth of another body on top of his was actually quite nice. That was the only reason why he didn’t push John off him so he could at least sleep by himself. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Storm allowed his hands to trail down the firm muscles of John’s arms and to really feel the ridges of his chest muscles as they pressed against Storm’s.

John was young and beautiful, that was for sure, and Storm had never felt so wanted before, in a good way, not the way that Tony had wanted him.

What had happened with Tony hadn’t been rape, but it hadn’t exactly been the sort of thing that left Storm feeling warm inside afterward either. Not like how he felt now with John snuggled on top of him.

He’d just given John his first sexual experience, but Storm was getting a first here, too.

In his entire life, no one had ever held him like this before.

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Robert slammed the last of his supplies into the black gym bag he had and hoisted it over his shoulder.

He was getting ready to go out, alone, for the first time to hunt by himself.

He didn’t care if they killed him and ripped him to pieces. That fucking wolf and that werecat were going to die one way or another for what they’d done to his family, and if Robert died, he was taking them with him.

Dave, his father, had asked him to do one simple thing, and because he’d hesitated, argued, and felt sorry for the thing they were about to put out of its misery, another demon thing, this time in the shape of a wolf, had jumped the lot of them, killing Robert’s father and his two uncles.

Now, with his younger sister gone, he had no one in the world left, no reason to care if he lived or died.

The tents had already been packed up and were in the back of the truck, and after looking over the scene of what used to be his camp one last time, he was pretty sure there was no sign remaining that he, or his father and uncles, had ever been there.

Suddenly he wanted to cry, and the building pressure behind his eyes made him feel like a pussy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and moved for the driver’s side of the truck. He just had to remember his training and track those shifters down.

The problem was that it had been his father who had been the skilled tracker in the family, and now he was gone.

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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Robert finally jumped into the truck and slammed the door. He was just about to start the ignition and drive off, maybe find somewhere to hole up and think for the next couple of days, but he’d already lost enough time crying like a little bitch, when a man stepped in front of his truck.

Robert’s inner warning signals went bat-shit crazy on him, and as carefully as he could, he reached into the holster he was wearing for the Glock he kept on him at all times, but the thing didn’t have silver bullets in it.

The man just stared at him, as though waiting for him to make the first move.

Robert had no idea what the guy wanted. Could this be another shifter? Maybe he was from the same pack the other wolf had come from, and now they were here to finish him off.

No other men came out from the woods to confront him. It was only this guy, and the more Robert looked at him, the more he didn’t think he could be a shifter.

He had the bulk for it, with the wide shoulders and muscles on him, but it was the haircut that calmed Robert down a little.

The black hair was cropped short, military style. Most werewolves liked growing it out long and wild. Robert could never figure out why. Maybe it grew faster than normal and they didn’t want to deal with it.

“You gonna keep staring at me, or you gonna get out of the truck?” the man called.

Robert stiffened. In the whole time he’d been sitting there thinking over his next move, the guy could’ve pulled a gun on him and killed him.

Or transformed into some kind of wild animal and eaten him.

He’d done neither, so Robert got out of the truck.

He had to clear his throat. This would be the first time he’d spoke out loud, aside from yelling and screaming out his loss, since
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everyone had been taken from him yesterday.

“Something I can help you with, friend?”

The stranger leaned a little to one side, as though he could see what it was Robert was carrying around in the back under the tarp.

“Lot of supplies you got with you. What’re you hunting?”

Now all the nerves inside him were really standing on end and shouting out loud. Robert’s family hadn’t been doing this for very long, but they had learned a thing or two about identifying other hunters of their particular nature.

He had to be careful, though. This might be just some normal guy who was asking what he thought was a perfectly normal question.

Who was also out in the middle of the woods with no apparent supplies on him.

“Just some regular big game,” Robert said, watching for the response he would get.

The stranger nodded. “Wolves are a good bet, this time of year.”

That was it. The response that marked this man as a hunter, no matter what the season was. Robert relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d let himself become, but now that he knew he was in the presence of a friend, he just wanted to collapse.

It must’ve shown on his face because the stranger took a step forward and put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Hard battle?”

Robert nodded. He had to lean his back against the truck, or else he knew he would fall over. “I buried the last of my family last night,” he said, and then his face crumbled and he could hold it in no longer.

The stranger was patient with him. He didn’t comfort him or touch him anymore than necessary, and for that Robert was glad.

“I had a hard fight with them a couple of months ago. They killed all my men, or turned them, and now I’m on my own.”

Robert looked up at him. “You are?”

The stranger nodded. “The name’s Tatum O’Leary. I’ll work with you if you like. You have the supplies I’ll bet, and now you just need
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the manpower. I can track pretty well and know how to clean most rifles and shotguns.”

There was nothing in the world Robert wanted more than to not do this alone. With someone else to have his back, at least that would make for a great chance of success, and he’d said he was a good tracker, which was exactly what he needed.

“Robert Marsh,” he said, and reached out and shook the hand of his new partner.

Tatum smiled eagerly at him. “Good to be working with you. I can tell you already that I’ve been tracking one shifter in particular, and he’s in the area right now. I’ll bet he also had something to do with your misfortunes as well, considering how close he is to you.”

It hardly mattered at this point. Robert just wanted to kill something to release all the pent-up rage he was carrying around with him.

“Get in. You can tell me where he is while I drive.”

* * * *

Storm gladly allowed John to take him again in the morning.

There was something nice about being woken up to having his dick sucked and then being turned over and fucked lazily before breakfast.

His wound was almost entirely healed now, and so he was able to better enjoy the feel of another body against his without any stinging.

Then they ate their breakfast of stale pizza and sodas, and when Storm tried to get into the shower, John followed him inside and had him there, too.

He was new to this, and Storm reminded himself that John would want sex as often as possible now that he’d had it. He didn’t mind in the least.

He groaned as he came in John’s hand, spilling himself against the shower wall, the water washing away his cum and sending it down the drain.

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He kept his leg propped up on the rim of the tub and leaned his back against John’s chest as the other man continued to pound into him.

John kissed his neck and squeezed him tightly as his hips jerked faster and harder, his whole body becoming stiff as he came inside him.

Storm enjoyed the feeling of being held against a warm body and of the breath panting along the back of his neck, tickling him. John continued to kiss his shoulders and neck, caressing Storm’s sides like he was some kind of precious work of art or something.

Then he gently pulled out, and they finished washing off.

“I’ll take you back to my pack. You can meet my alpha James, and everyone else. They’ll welcome you in just like they do everyone else. You’ll like it there. We’ll have to share my room in one of the cabins, but my roommates are okay,” John insisted.

He had the widest smile on his face as he made plans, and it was difficult for Storm to not believe him when he spoke of their connection.

He put the thought from his mind and tried to bring John back to reality. “I don’t know if you should expect others to be so eager to forgive me,” he said, trying to be as gentle and realistic as possible.

“I’m not only a former hunter, but I’m also a shifter. I’m a traitor in their eyes.”

John frowned as he rinsed out his hair. When all the soap suds were washed away, he looked Storm right in the eye.

“They will accept you. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be staying with them for very long. You and I could find another pack to be a part of, or we could make up our own.”

That had been the last thing Storm hoped to hear. “A werewolf and a werecat entirely on their own without protection? Any hunters who found us would make easy skins of us.”

“Fine, then we’ll find another pack to take us in, and only if mine doesn’t accept you. Which they will,” John said, still being stubborn
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about it and even sounding a little annoyed that Storm was refusing to share his happiness.

Storm pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out. John turned off the water and joined him. They did their best to dry off with the nearly worthless towels, but they were practically just moving the water around on them, rather than absorbing anything.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

“I would like you to promise me something.”

John’s head cocked a little, but that suspicion never left his eyes.

“Okay, what?”

“That if your pack―”

“Storm―”

“That if your pack would rather not have me, you will stay with them and allow me to go.”

This was the first time that Storm had seen John angry. “And what happened to your honor pledge to stay with me no matter what?