All Hallow's Howl (5 page)

8 - Eight

The day passes in a whirlwind - too quickly for Dylan to hang on to every moment.

It doesn’t stop him from trying.

Jamie fits right in with his father and friends. They walk to the Spice Diner on the edge of town, ordering up Martha’s famous cinnamon swirl pancakes, and enough bacon and sausage to feed a small army. Ivan and Rusty are too busy with their own bonding celebration to come for breakfast, but Hannah texts Jewel and she shows up just as Martha is setting down an enormous cup of hot cocoa in front of Dylan.

“Something sweet for the sweethearts to share,” she says with a wink, and Jamie smiles indulgently as Dylan grins up at her in thanks.

Jewel’s brought clothes - not very good ones, just dirty ones she found in a gym bag on Dylan’s porch - so they go into the bathroom and clean up the worst of the mess from their night outside before they sit back down and tuck in. All through breakfast, Dylan can see Jamie’s mind at work as he tries to figure out the depth and design of the friendship between them and the relationship he shares with his father.

He’s nearly certain that Jamie will give them the “take care of him for me” speech before he disappears again, but instead of feeling entrapped at the presumption or anxious about the next day, it merely makes him feel well cared for. 

*

They leave the restaurant when Dylan notices that Jamie is beginning to look more overwhelmed than intrigued by the advances made in technology in the years he’s been gone. Nash has already gone back to the park grounds in order to pick up his car, so it’s ready when they step out of the building.

“Hey,” Dylan whispers in Jamie’s ear. “We can walk if you’d rather. It’ll take a little longer to get home, but we don’t have to use the car.” When he watches a handful of drivers go by with no seeming care about the pedestrians around, though, Dylan thinks that riding in the car might be less stress than walking by a bunch of them on a roadway.

“I was able to ride in one once before,” Jamie says, almost shy, and he doesn’t seem to mind when Dylan leads him to his father’s four door sedan. Nash catches his eyes and tosses Dylan the keys with a nod, and Dylan sends back a silent thank you.

He tries to drive slowly, but he’s impatient. He wants to get Jamie in his bed, sprawled out for him against the blue sheets. He wants to show his mate the house he grew up in – he’s never lived anywhere else, and the house is every bit his territory. The wolf inside him is eager to have his mate in his den.

*

When they reach home, Dylan leads Jamie up the stairs quickly, bypassing most of the kitchen and living room. He doesn't want to take any time to answer questions about the appliances - not that he necessarily thinks that Jamie will use some of their precious time to question him - but Dylan is more than gratified when Jamie's face breaks into a large grin as he steps through the open doorway.

"Something on your mind?" he asks, sly, and Dylan smirks.

"Just thought we could take a nap," he says, and pulls the sweatshirt he's wearing over his head, tossing it aside to the lay on the floor. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

Jamie's eyes track the path of the discarded garment, and before Dylan can finish undressing himself, Jamie's stalking him, predatory and feral.

It's not unusual for newly bonded couples to be insatiable, and Dylan regrets every less-than-understanding comment he's ever made about others’ post-bonding sexcapades. Jamie has him out of his sweats and shoes before he can do much more than blink, and then his own hands are tearing at the fabric keeping him from seeing all that he can of his mate.

They crash back down on the bed with a clash of their lips. Jamie's hands reach out and pull Dylan's above his head, pinning them there. Dylan bucks up with his hips ineffectually. "Come on," he says, but Jamie, straddling him, doesn't move.

A half smile graces the edges of his lips, and he watches Dylan's face with an expression that can only be called tender. "You're beautiful," Jamie says, and Dylan is caught between preening at the compliment from his alpha and scowling at the insinuation that he is less than manly.

"I'm not a
girl
," he chokes out, and Jamie looks at him levelly.

"I never said you were," he observes, and then his fingers are tracing down the side of Dylan's face, his thumb brushing underneath Dylan's eye, down the length of his nose, across his lips. "Men can be just as possessed of beauty as women," he says calmly, and Dylan snakes his tongue from between his lips to lap carefully at Jamie’s thumb.

Jamie allows the intimacy for a moment before he continues his exploration, shifting down so that he can stroke his fingers along the curve of Dylan's neck, across his broad shoulders, over the flat plains of his stomach. His fingertips move slowly, lingering, and Dylan thinks that he must be trying to map every inch of his skin, memorizing it.

He pushes the thought away resolutely. He can't stand to be sad at the time of their joining. There'll be room enough for that later.

By the time Jamie works his way down Dylan's body enough to ghost his fingertips across the head of his cock, Dylan is taut with nervous anticipation. His breath catches in his throat when Jamie wraps his hand around the length of him, stroking it slowly and carefully, and he bites back a moan.

"I want to watch you," Jamie says, and Dylan makes a questioning noise.

Jamie keeps stroking him, his voice conversational, but raspy with intent that belies his casual air.

"I want to stroke you," he says. "And watch the way your blush runs down your chest. How your eyelids flutter shut when you're close for me. I want to watch the way your mouth moves when you find your release," he says, and begins to move his hand just that little bit faster.

"Wha-?" Dylan starts, but Jamie flicks a thumb over the mushroom head of his cock and he closes his mouth instead, his head thrown back on the pillow.

"So responsive," Jamie whispers, and when Dylan cracks open an eye, Jamie looks almost like he's in awe. "Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?"

Dylan whines. His slit leaks, proof of his need.

"That's it," Jamie says, and adds a small twist to the movement of his wrist.

And feeling those eyes watching him so carefully, Dylan rolls his head to the side and moans, his body shaking as he spends his release across Jamie's fingers.

*

"I wanna show you something," Jamie says later, when Dylan is curled up underneath his chin, their limbs tangled together and sweat cooling on their bodies.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Jamie says decisively. "It's near to the place you did the ritual, so it will be a bit of a walk. And a ride in that fancy car."

"Mmkay," Dylan says, wondering what Jamie could possibly have to show him. The curiosity rouses him long enough for him to blink his eyes open. "We should shower first," he says. Then again, he’s not sure whether or not showers had been invented when Jamie was alive. "We're kind of gross,” he clarifies. “We definitely need to bathe."

Jamie is impressed by the bathroom and entranced by the flow of scalding water from the adjustable faucet. He makes a noise that could be mistaken for a purr and Dylan watches him with a small smile. He wants to show Jamie everything, all the new innovations that have come in the years he's been gone, but he only has today, and tomorrow. And it's not enough.

When Jamie is ready for actual bathing instead of standing underneath the spigot and stealing all of the water, he looks around curiously. His brow scrunches together.

"What is it?"

Jamie looks over to him. "Do people not have soap in this time?" he asks, and Dylan chuckles.

The question is enough to draw him from his reverie and he picks up a bottle from behind him with nimble fingers. "This is body wash," he says, and motions to another one, hidden by his body. "And that's shampoo."

He flicks the lid open and pours out a dollop into his palm. He sets the bottle hastily to the side before he smooths his fingers across Jamie's chest. "I think it's only fair that I get to touch you this time," he says, and Jamie acquiesces with little resistance.

*

Dylan hides a grin when Jamie plucks at his borrowed clothes self consciously. The sweats Jewel had brought him were fine for his introduction to modern clothing, but dirty enough that it wasn't really any use to put them back on after a shower.

His father's clothes fit better than Dylan's do. It annoys him to have someone else's scent on his mate - even his father's - but they both agreed that it wasn't any use to purchase him something new, given that he'd be recalled to the spirit world the next day, and that he wasn't exactly planning to spend the entire time he had with Dylan dressed.

The entrance to the national park used for the Run is clear of many of the crowds that were there earlier, one lone official still holding court with his files of papers. Dylan passes off the forms he'd snatched from Pink Lady's hands earlier and flashes the man a winning smile. "Our names were taken down earlier," he says, "but we didn't have a chance to file the forms. Here they are."

The man barely lifts his head, glancing at Dylan’s name and checking it off of a long list before stuffing the papers in his satchel and resting his head back in his hands. He doesn’t say a word.

"Um, okay," Dylan says, and Jamie catches his hand to pull him into the forest.

This time they have supplies. Jamie'd insisted on carrying the backpack that held their food and water and a small blanket, along with some stuff to help build a fire. Dylan had wanted to know how much food to bring, and Jamie hadn't given him a straight answer. They'd settled on enough to get through the night, although Jamie admitted that he wasn't sure whether it would still be there or if they would want to stay out in the forest either way.

It's a good long hike. The day is crisp, but the air is still, without a breeze to blow through their jackets and chill their skin. The leaves are mostly gone from the deciduous trees, littering the ground in mounds of yellow and brown. Above them, Dylan can hear the birds sing and the squirrels chatter to one another as they spend the last of their energy before largely quieting for the winter months.

They pass by markers that Dylan recognizes readily - the oak tree he'd nearly run into the night before, the stream he'd followed to get to the clearing. Jamie turns to him with a grin a little farther past that cut-off, leading him in the opposite direction where the terrain is steeper and rockier.

"Where are we going?" Dylan asks, and not for the first time.

"Almost there, now," Jamie promises.

They walk perhaps another five minutes. Dylan can tell they’re close when Jamie’s scent spikes with excitement.

The sound of running water barely phases him; it isn’t unexpected in a forest. But when Jamie takes an abrupt left turn in order to go toward it, Dylan thinks that perhaps the stream has something to do with the surprise.

When he comes up beside him, Jamie’s face is a strange mixture of relieved and disappointed.

“There used to be a waterfall here,” he says, and Dylan takes his arm comfortingly. “A proper one, I mean.”

There is still a waterfall there - as long as the definition includes only “falling water.” There is barely a trickle making its way down the rock face, and the depression that the tiny stream rests inside is large enough that Dylan knows the waterfall must have been quite grand in its day.

Jamie steps forward again, crossing the water in one stride, and ducks into the cave behind the running water. “Dylan?” he calls out, and for the first time Dylan realizes that Jamie is uncertain.

He follows, pleasantly surprised when he finds the cave to be less of a dinky hole in the wall and more of a mid-priced hotel room - as far as caves go.

Jamie’s at the very back, his hands reaching up to the top, and Dylan realizes that there is a small shelf naturally built into the rock formation.

“Yes,” Jamie breathes, and brings his hands down. He stands there for a moment, his back turned to Dylan, before he turns around to face him and, stepping forward into Dylan’s space, holds out his hands.

He’s carrying a small leather bundle. “These were mine,” Jamie says quietly.

Dylan nods carefully.

“I - ” Jamie starts, and then presses a kiss to Dylan’s forehead and steps to the side of him, making his way back to the cave’s entrance - and daylight.

Dylan follows him, but measures his steps carefully. He thinks his mate might need some space, but the distance is slight between them, and it’s only a moment before he’s back outside as well.

Jamie’s crouched down to the ground, Dylan’s backpack set off to the side. The bundle is open in front of him, the treasures within spread out for display. “These are yours now.”

There is a gold pocket watch, a necklace made of blue turquoise beads and a bear’s claw, and a man’s ring. To the side, Jamie’s separated out two more necklaces. Those are fancy and expensive, women’s jewelry with fine stones embedded in their settings. “These belonged to my mother,” Jamie says, stroking the cool metal slightly.

He refocuses his attention on the ring, picking it up to examine it carefully before he turns to Dylan and reaches out for his hand. He slides it onto Dylan’s third finger carefully, his eyes intent as they look up at him.