Veins
1/1
Another party at the Lockwood’s, another night spent hiding away in Tyler’s dad’s old office. Jeremy drinks from the bottle of rum greedily and only stops when Tyler mutters a protest. He eyes the athletic boy with sparkling eyes, takes in his short messy hair and deep brown eyes. They’re an odd pair to be seen together, which is why they aren’t often. There’s he, the recovered stoner and then there’s Tyler the closet alcoholic, the athlete, the in-the-closet werewolf. Sighing, Jeremy pushes off from the wood desk and plops beside Tyler on the worn leather couch. The wolf eyes him warily, their knees knocking together lightly.
“This has become a kind of tradition, hasn’t it?” Jeremy says laughing, his eyes fixated on Tyler’s face.
“Yeah,” Tyler replies shortly, taking a long drink from the bottle.
Jer leans back and drapes his arm lazily on the back of the couch, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. He tries to count the circles but loses track when a pair of lips kiss his collarbone lightly, and a warm hand slips up his shirt. Even if he wanted to protest he couldn’t, because the hand drops down past his waistband and all rational thought flies out the window.
Gasping against Tyler’s massaging hand Jeremy yanks the were’s mouth away from his neck so that he can show him just how happily he’s accepting the attention paid to him. The pair tumbles lengthwise on the cushions and Jeremy buries his face into Tyler’s neck as the latter’s hand works steadily, determinedly, against him. His hand is like a burning friction, and Jeremy can feel the blood flowing and pulsating through him. A loud groan escapes his liquor and spit dappled lips as Tyler nibbles his earlobe, and he can feel all control rush out of him. All it takes is a few more strokes and Jer loses himself, his hands gripping Tyler’s hair while a pleasant shudder rocks his body.
Smiling slightly, Tyler pulls away and takes a sip from the rum sitting on the table. After a moment’s pause he glances at Jeremy, watches while he adjusts. “You tell no one.” He grumbles, and then walks quickly from the room leaving Jeremy to sit in a dazed wonder.
“This has become a kind of tradition, hasn’t it?” Jeremy says laughing, his eyes fixated on Tyler’s face.
“Yeah,” Tyler replies shortly, taking a long drink from the bottle.
Jer leans back and drapes his arm lazily on the back of the couch, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. He tries to count the circles but loses track when a pair of lips kiss his collarbone lightly, and a warm hand slips up his shirt. Even if he wanted to protest he couldn’t, because the hand drops down past his waistband and all rational thought flies out the window.
Gasping against Tyler’s massaging hand Jeremy yanks the were’s mouth away from his neck so that he can show him just how happily he’s accepting the attention paid to him. The pair tumbles lengthwise on the cushions and Jeremy buries his face into Tyler’s neck as the latter’s hand works steadily, determinedly, against him. His hand is like a burning friction, and Jeremy can feel the blood flowing and pulsating through him. A loud groan escapes his liquor and spit dappled lips as Tyler nibbles his earlobe, and he can feel all control rush out of him. All it takes is a few more strokes and Jer loses himself, his hands gripping Tyler’s hair while a pleasant shudder rocks his body.
Smiling slightly, Tyler pulls away and takes a sip from the rum sitting on the table. After a moment’s pause he glances at Jeremy, watches while he adjusts. “You tell no one.” He grumbles, and then walks quickly from the room leaving Jeremy to sit in a dazed wonder.