It wasn't anything like how they make it seem in books. He didn't wake up on his thirteenth birthday with fur and a tail or start to shift the first time he made out with somebody. It wasn’t some deep dark secret his family kept hidden from him or the product of a terrifying animal attack as he walked home one night. Despite the amount of decent quality scientific information that's been put out about were populations in the last fifty years, human ideas about them, let alone literature, still tend to skew toward the dramatic.
The truth is, Jensen is a werewolf - half, technically, but he's got the gene and that's all that seems to matter to anyone - always has been, always will be, and he's not buying those 'I didn't realize until I shifted stories' they love to put on the news any more than he believes those women who swear they had no idea that they were pregnant until they went into labor.
It's never really been a big deal to Jensen, he was raised in a normal human neighborhood with human kids in human schools. Sure there have been the few inevitable issues, narrow-minded assholes on either side of the genetic divide, but for the most part, he’s lived an ordinary life. Hell, he's never even shifted! It's just a thing, a funny little anomaly in his DNA that he has to compensate for. Realistically, there are people out there who are allergic to peanuts and strawberries and gluten - and thus, practically two-thirds of the world's joy - so comparatively, Jensen's always figured he had it easy.
But that was before Jared Padalecki.
Weres aren't exactly uncommon anymore, not since the Anti-Discrimnation Act essentially integrated society. Jensen's had to deal with plenty of others over the years, especially since he started college, so he doesn't think too much about it when he picks up an unfamiliar were scent around campus. Dealt with enough of them that it doesn't even give him much pause when that scent sidles up to him in the campus bookstore and settles itself down at the table Jensen has claimed in the name of double-shot Americanos and Organic Chem homework. Had enough of them up in his face that it doesn't even give him much pause when the big lanky pup of a guy attached to that scent splays a hand the size of a dinner plate out on top of the paragraph Jensen had been highlighting and says, "Hi."
"No," Jensen drawls back, tossing a strong hit of 'fuck off' into his scent in case that was too subtle.
And obviously it was because instead of backing off, the guy just cocks his head. "What?"
Jensen draws in a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh. The smell of roasted coffee beans is almost enough to drown out the interest that's pouring off of his new table-mate.
"No. I do not want to talk to you or hang out with you or fuck you or introduce you to anybody who would fuck you or go for a run with your pack or join the Luna Club. Whatever it is you want, the answer's no, not interested. Have a nice night."
The guy blinks stupidly at him a couple of times, hackles visibly up but not, apparently, inclined to do anything about it. Just as well, Jensen doesn't really want to get kicked out of the cafe for getting into a throwdown with some baby-alpha punk.
"Wow," he says finally, hazel eyes sparkling with humor, "Are you sure you're not a werecat? Me-ow." He makes a clawing gesture with his free hand, the other still pointedly in Jensen's way.
And that's how he meets Jared. Note, not how he becomes friends with Jared because to the best of his knowledge friendship involves a level of consent that Jensen utterly fails to share in his dealings with Jared, not that the pup seems to care.
Jensen knows admittedly little about pack life. His father never talked much about his upbringing, mainly, Jensen thinks, because it made him sad. For all that human-were relations are better now than they've ever been, most packs are still wary of mating up with humans and Jensen's father's pack had been particularly traditional. He hasn't spoken to them since long before Jensen was born. Still, if he was going to take a shot in the dark about what growing up pack would have meant, he would have guessed it's a lot like being followed around by Jared.
There's a whole lot of pouncing and playing and general nuisance-making. If he ever shifted, Jensen's pretty sure Jared would try to chew on his ears. It's ridiculous, is what it is.
Jared took the whole not shifting thing better than most - Jensen's caught a lot of crap from other weres over the years about 'giving up something sacred and essential' and 'conforming to human norms' and 'turning his back on his kind' - sufficing with a slightly disappointed but genuinely curious, "Why?" It's better than most of the guys he's had to deal with.
So, fine, Jared’s understanding. Basic levels of decency don’t qualify him for a friendship bracelet or anything. And, alright, maybe Jared can be charming - in that self-satisfied, exuberant little boy sort of way - and maybe Jensen doesn't entirely despise the time they spend together. It might be slightly cute that Jared's memorized Jensen's coffee order, and possibly just ever so slightly less annoying than it ought to be when Jared hangs all over him like he's never heard of the concept of personal space. That doesn't mean that they're close. And it certainly doesn’t mean that they’re together. And if sometimes Jensen gets all warm and fluttery inside when Jared waits for him after a class just so he can walk with Jensen back to the dorm, well, nobody can prove it.
"You didn't have to do that,” Jensen snaps. If he walks any faster it’s going to turn into a jog, but it’s either that or punch Jared in the face. He can’t really think of why that would be a bad thing at the moment. “I can stand up for myself."
Jared’s hardly even working to keep up with him, but he’s trailing along a couple of steps behind Jensen anyway, shoulders hunched in like he could possibly make himself seem small. "I know you can, I wasn't-"
"I'm not some helpless little thing just because I don't shift.” He almost bowls over a couple of girls on the sidewalk who don’t get out of the way fast enough. Later he’ll probably feel bad about that but right now he’s too busy biting his tongue bloody to hold back the urge to growl.
The sound of those guys – stupid fucking pack of jock dickwads – laughing, howling, still rings in his ears.Go fetch, mutt. What’s a pretty little piece doing wasting his time on a half breed. Stinks like a mutt, don’t know how you stand it. Make sure he’s got his shots, baby, you never know where them strays have been! It shouldn’t get to him, it shouldn’t fucking matter what a bunch of idiots say, shouldn’t matter that Jared decided to go all alpha-defender on them like Jensen needs somebody to guard his precious honor. But it does, it makes him see fucking red, want to tear into something the way he hasn’t since he was sixteen and pissed off at everything on the planet.
“I'm perfectly capable of-"
"I wasn't standing up for you!”
In all the time they’ve spent together, Jensen has never once heard Jared lose his temper, let alone yell. It’s stunning enough that it stops Jensen dead in the middle of the foot path. The effect is echoed on a group of kids making their way down the library steps, weighted down with books and bags and jackets. None of them smell like weres but they’re obviously smart enough to know to keep a safe distance, fear-stink coming off of them in waves. Because that’s just what Jensen needs, a reminder that to so many of them, he’s always going to be a monster.
But right now, that’s not really what concerns him. Right now, his attention is focused in on Jared standing there in the halo of a streetlamp, looking less like the Jared he knows than Jensen’s ever seen him. His muscles are corded tight, obvious even under the light jacket that hangs off of his frame as if buying clothes too big is going to make him look average sized. The lines of his face seem sharper than usual, unrelieved by the curve of a smile or the glimmer that usually sparks in his eyes. He looks years older, broken, and out of an entire night full of unexpected events, somehow it’s still the protective tug low in Jensen’s gut over that look that shocks him the most.
“They weren't talking about you.” Compared to that initial explosion of anger, Jared’s words are almost a whisper. “I'm not wolf, Jensen. I'm coywolf. Hybrid. It's pretty rare and, well, not exactly popular, in case you missed it.” He shrugs, tossing out a watered-down attempt at a smile. “Most weres pick up on it right away, so I've never really had to explain it before. And then you didn't and I didn't know how to say it. I didn't want you to think... I don't know."
But Jensen does, knows it in his bones, spent most of his adolescence struggling with it. "You didn't want me to think less of you. Because you're not purebred."
He’s not entirely sure when he moved in closer, but he’s near enough now to wrap a hand around Jared’s wrist, feel the instinctual flinch and the flutter of his pulse, scent the more complex notes in the worry Jared’s giving off, twisting up Jensen’s stomach. He needs to make this better with an intensity he hardly knows how to cope with.
"Jared, my mother is human, you know that."
Jared’s shoe scuffs against the pavement and his arm strains a little against Jensen’s hold as if he’s trying to pull away even though the heat of his body is actually pushing in closer. "Yeah, but you’re not. As far as they're concerned, you're one of them."
"You think I give a shit about what they think?" he says, one eyebrow cocked high. It makes Jared laugh, just a tiny breath of a thing, but his dimples dig in on either side of a wry smile to match.
"No, I guess not.”
The library is warm, bordering on hot, the radiators drying out the air and magnifying the scent of dust until Jensen is overwhelmed with the constant urge to sneeze. It's annoying and the fact that his patience is hovering right around empty escalates that fact straight on to maddening.
There's a blue moon tonight and however much they would all like to pretend otherwise, that sort of thing has a big effect on weres. They aren't bound to changing with the moons like some of the old movies let on, but the urge is there crawling right under everyone's skin, ramping up hormones and shortening tempers. Two full moons in a month just makes it worse.
There's also the little matter of Jensen's complete inability to keep his mind on task ever since Jared told him what he is.
It's idiotic, because it isn't like it matters, isn't even like it's important to Jensen. More than anything, it's that it's peaked his curiosity. He's done more research on coywolves than he'd strictly care to admit and it actually answers a lot of the incongruities he'd noticed in Jared when he thought he was just a wolf. Thin, rangy, insatiable appetites, playful, sly, quick-witted; it describes Jared to a T, which is fascinating. Fascinating and somehow still not enough.
Jared, meanwhile, has remained apparently oblivious about the weeks’ worth of obsessing Jensen's devoted himself to. He's sitting on the other side of their study table, flipping through a set of notes and pausing every now and again to make patterns out of the bag of Skittles he has strewn across the table.
He's busy picking the red 'petals' off of a flower design, eating each candy one by one. His teeth crunch at the thin candy shell before it gives way to the soft inside, a tiny explosion of artificial fruit scent with each one. It mixes with the smell of old paper and book bindings, the heady, rich scent of Jared’s skin that spikes every time he flips his stupid, wavy hair out of his face. He plucks another candy, the very tip of his stained-red tongue making an appearance between his lips, slick, nimble curl of it gathering the shiny red sweet from between his fingertips.
For some reason that's the thing that tips Jensen just far enough over the edge of frustrated to finally ask, "Can I see you shift?"
Jared raises his eyebrows and chomps down on his Skittle. "I'll show you mine, you show me yours?"
After just a minute of watching Jensen flounder for an answer, he smirks, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
He moves onto the stem of the ‘flower’, flipping another page in his notes, licking a smear of green-dyed sugar off of the pad of his thumb.
For a while that's the extent of the conversation, but after the third time Jensen has to restart the same paragraph because he hasn't retained a single scrap of information, he gives in.
"Do you miss it?"
Either Jensen's really transparent or Jared's still stuck on the same train of thought too because he hardly hesitates before answering, "Right now? Yeah." He shifts his shoulders, resettling in the chair in a slightly different position. That, at least, Jensen can sympathize with, the itchy sort of ache like his skin just isn't fitting right. Fucking moon. "But, no, not usually. Not much anyway."
"Nothing's stopping you," Jensen points out, not too eagerly ,he hopes.
Hazel eyes track down Jensen’s chest, a trail of heat erupting in the wake of his gaze. Jensen wonders if Jared’s imagining what he would look like on all fours. Shifted! He means shifted; if Jared’s trying to picture him as a wolf the same way he’s been trying to picture Jared all furry and brush-tailed for days on end. Jensen shuffles an extra notebook off of the table into his lap, though he knows Jared’s bound to be able to scent the sudden thrum of arousal making his dick fatten in his jeans. God he hates this part of the lunar cycle.
Mercifully, Jared goes on as if Jensen’s bio-rhythms aren’t spontaneously turning him into a pervert. "It's different,” he shrugs. “Back home everybody was used to me, they knew what I was. It wasn't a big deal. Here it's just... it's not worth the trouble and stuff."
And if Jared – a freaking alpha – can manage to control his libido and have a normal conversation, then Jensen sure as hell can too. Probably. What the hell is wrong with him tonight?
"Why did you decide to come here? With all the trouble and stuff."
It’s something they’ve discussed before, back when Jensen still didn’t know what Jared really is, but it’s different now, the meaning is different.
Long, careful fingers set a yellow Skittle spinning across the hardwood. Jared’s eyes fixate on it like it’s essential to watch the little ‘S’ on it rotate. "Because if I stayed, it would have been taking the easy way out. Then the next time it would be that much easier just to stay and not try for anything else and then I'd have never done anything. I'd have just been making a cage for myself."
"Ballsy," Jensen says after a moment, watching the candy stutter to a halt only to get snatched up and popped into Jared’s mouth.
"Yeah, well, I also had no idea what I was in for, so there's that."
Jared looks up at him, dead in the eyes – not for the first time tonight but it suddenly feels that way. "Not everything I was in for was bad."
Jensen's not sure if it's the words or the warm, liquidy softness in Jared's eyes, but something awakens that tug low in his gut that he’s been becoming more and more aware of lately. Maybe if he could get some air that didn’t smell like he has his face pressed up against Jared’s skin he’d be able to think straight. Maybe his body would stop wanting to quiver and tremble and come apart in a set of big strong arms. Or maybe he could just run and keep himself from making a huge stupid mistake.
"Let’s get out of here."
There isn't all that much to do on campus at this hour. They've already bailed on the library and the coffee shop's out - right now the last thing Jensen needs is a dose of caffeine to rev him up even more. The Luna Club organized a run in the woods a couple of miles off campus tonight and even with as few weres as there are at school, the walking paths still feel strangely empty as they wander aimlessly through the night.
Something's different, off, though it feels a lot more like on. Full moons are always strange nights, the pull of it turning Jensen’s crank, making him feel fidgety and unsettled and, ok, horny. But it isn’t like he and Jared haven’t been through several of them together by now. It’s worse, blue moon turning Jensen’s internal dial up even higher, but still he’s never felt this overwhelming need to just jump somebody before, let alone a specific somebody.
He’d expected it to be better out in the fresh air, but if anything it’s worse somehow. It’s like Jared is the only thing he can smell, the only heat he can feel, like his entire body has been tuned to Jared’s frequency.
Jared isn’t helping matters, either. He’s sort of looming there, not far enough into Jensen’s space that he can really say something about it but hovering right on the razor-thin line between casual and intimate.
Until they pass around the low brick wall in front of the Nature Sciences building and Jared backs him up against it, all hot searching eyes and strong, commanding hands. Then that line pretty well shatters.
They're shielded a little from the wind, just enough that it compounds that closeness, blankets Jensen in the warm, earthy, hungry scent of Jared.
“Is it…" Jared hesitates, tilts his head to the side warily and says, "because of what I am?”
Jensen's “What?” comes out too breathy. His stomach has bottomed out like he just stepped off of a ledge, free-falling; it fills him with the urge to squirm out of the pen of Jared's arms and at the same time robs him of the ability to do so, nailed to the wall by the accusing-hurt-hopeful in Jared's eyes.
This line forms in the middle of Jared's forehead and his lips turn down on an unimpressed frown. “Jensen.”
His tone is flat, serious, and those parts of Jensen's personality that he generally prefers to ignore melt for it, dripping liquid into his gut to infuse that obnoxious tug-tug-tug there. This close, he has to be able to smell Jensen's want; he's been half hard in his jeans since the library, it's got to be strong by now. Damn if that thought doesn't make him just a little bit harder.
“No," he says, reflexive. Then, "Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not that I care about that but it’s…"
A sigh bursts out of Jensen, seemingly taking the tension with it as he slumps back against the wall. He's been twisting himself up about this all this time, trying to figure out why knowing what he knows about Jared makes the difference; if he really is just as shallow as all of the gene nuts that come sniffing after him because he's a wolf except backwards because Jared being a hybrid kind of gets him hot. And while talking about it isn't exactly an idea he relishes, keeping it bottled up has been well on its way to driving him crazy.
"I had you in my head as this spoiled alpha pup who ran the roost and got everything he wanted and then just happened to turn out to be a good guy. But you’re not that at all. You’re…”
“An outsider," Jared suggests, a shadow of a smile darkening one side of his mouth. "Like you.”
He shifts his weight over onto one arm, letting himself lean sideways into the wall so that Jensen's no longer boxed in.
Damn. Twenty years of swearing loud and indignant that he's nothing like them, doesn't need somebody else to validate what he is and then he goes and falls for the first guy he's ever come across who's just like him.
Wait, no, not... not falls for. That wasn't... he didn't- doesn't...
“You know, you’re kind of judgey about the whole pack thing, considering,” Jared says. This would all be a lot easier if he'd back up out of Jensen's space a few feet. Maybe a few dozen.
A flick of his hair erases the shadow from Jared’s face, reveals a small self-satisfied smile. “That we are one.”
Jensen has to laugh at that even if it only comes out as a short bark of sound when drawing in the breath for it floods him with the smell of Jared, warm and inexplicably pleased. “Oh yeah, the big two were pack. A coywolf and a guy who doesn’t shift. We’ll have all the other packs shaking in their boots.”
That Jared's hand fits just right against the curve of his jaw is not what Jensen should be concentrating on at this particular moment. He should be focused more on the way Jared's pinning him with just his presence, his sheer size splaying Jensen flat against the wall, entirely too willing. He should be worried about the heavy heat of Jared's cock nudging against his hip, barely perceptible through layers and layers of cloth except for how Jensen's nerves all migrate to that one spot to milk all the sensation he can get out of it. He should be thinking about something other than spreading his legs and baring his throat because this is not who Jensen is. He's stronger than this. Better than this.
All of which flies out the window when Jared rubs their cheeks together, this tiny point of contact that trips miniature landmines under Jensen's skin. There's more than just sex in the pheromones radiating off of Jared - although there's enough of that to drown in too - there's caring and need and this something that defies categorization but makes Jensen think 'home'. Fisting his hands in Jared's jacket isn't even a matter of choice - it's the only way he can stay standing.
“Pack.” Jared makes it a statement, big hands finding a perch on Jensen's hips.
His mouth is almost too dry to form the words, "Do you..."
Luckily, Jared finishes it for him. "Please let that have been an invitation to come home with you."
Jensen can't do anything but nod.
The actual 'come home' part is all a blur, Jared's pheromones leaking all over the place and messing up Jensen's head. Every were on campus is going to know what's up and Jensen can't even get himself to give a shit.
His roommate must still be out on the Luna Club run - thank God - when he shoves the door open, Jared all over him the second he's confirmed that they're alone.
Technically speaking, Jensen’s a beta. It’s never been a matter of consequence for him, the differences are all academic outside of a pack anyway and the few weres he’s ever liked enough to bring to his bed have all been openminded enough not to be bothered about genetic hierarchy. That said, he’s never been with an alpha before and whatever else Jared may be, he’s definitely all alpha. So it’s, suffice to say, a shock when they’re sprawled haphazardly over Jensen’s bed and Jared grabs Jensen’s fingers and sucks them wet before urging them around behind him.
“What’s wrong?” Jared asks when Jensen hesitates, pads of his fingers ghosting over the pucked flesh of Jared's opening. The syllables are choppy as he pants, an undertone of a whine hidden deep inside of them somewhere.
“Oh! I- I just thought…” Jensen stumbles awkwardly, nearly stunned by a faint twinge of disappointment running through him, “I mean, you’re an alpha.”
“Yeeeeah?” Jared drags the word out for a couple of extra seconds, head cocked again like he's confused. His hips are still tilting back against the tips of Jensen’s fingers like he doesn’t think Jensen understood or something so Jensen gently starts to circle them, trying to explain to himself why exactly he’s putting off pushing in. For a few seconds Jared gets distracted by it, humming low in his throat, eyelids fluttering closed. Then like a switch flipped, his eyes shoot open and his whole body goes still, scent flooding hot in Jensen’s nostrils. “Oh my God, would you let me fuck you? Seriously?”
It comes out as little more than a whisper, disbelief dripping off of it and realization slams into Jensen like Jared just reached into his ribcage and twisted. Jared’s an alpha, but he’s not an alpha wolf and to most weres, especially in a pack, the coyote blood in him would negate everything else that he is.
“You’ve never fucked a wolf before.”
That was actually supposed to be a question, but so much for that. Doesn’t really matter anyway because Jared is shaking his head regardless, resting his forehead against Jensen’s when Jensen loops a hand around the nape of his neck and pulls him close.
He’s huffing like a freight train when he says, “I’m not really something most wolves are ok bending over for.”
Hot breath spills across Jensen’s lips, making him want to lick them, lick Jared’s. That pull in his gut turns into a full on yank right over a cliff.
“I’m not most wolves.”
Jared whines loud enough that there are probably dogs all the way on the other side of town going crazy. “Oh God, oh fuck.”
A beat behind and almost too late, Jensen clues in and wraps a fist around the base of Jared’s dick where the knot is starting to swell, clamping down hard enough that he knows it has to hurt but at least it drags Jared back from the edge.
“Not yet, not fucking yet,” he growls into Jared’s mouth, biting at his lips. Jensen really honestly does not give enough of a fuck about alpha-beta-omega dynamics for this to be nailing him the way it is, pushing around this big as fuck alpha who’s going to be all up in him in a minute. Well, everybody says college is the time to experiment.
With contrite little whimpers, Jared lets him have his way, tonguefucking way back to Jared’s molars where he can still taste the faint tang of Skittles. It’s intoxicating, the leeway he has, knowing that Jared’s not just holding back because he can, but because that’s the only way he’s ever done it, having to be gentle with humans or cowed for wolves. Knowing that Jensen is going to be the one to break that streak.
“Lube. In the drawer. C’mon.” He licks at the fine stubble on Jared’s chin and finally gets around to letting go of his softened knot. Jensen is just far enough gone on the whole thing not to bother pretending that his mouth doesn’t water at the heavy, heady scent lingering on his hand.
The drawer ends up on the floor, pulled all the way free in Jared’s haste which is eventually going to be really fucking annoying but right now Jensen’s got two of Jared’s long fingers up his ass so he can’t really find the energy to care. Jared’s hunkered down between his legs, only illuminated by the orangey light out in front of the building creeping in through the blinds. He's making these tiny, half-swallowed growls and the look in his eyes is a banked inferno but his fingers working Jensen open are almost maddeningly careful and the kisses he presses up the inside of Jensen's thighs and across his exposed belly are nothing but lips and tongue.
It's trippy in a lot of ways. The other betas and even omegas Jensen's been with have always tended toward the feral side in bed and while it's not always something he's proud of, he knows he's generally the same way. Even with humans, his partners are usually the right side of rough. And then there's Jared who is, at the best of times, a barely restrained ball of energy, limbs everywhere, loud booming voice, couldn't be cautious if his life depended on it and he's treating Jensen like he could break at any moment.
"It's ok, I can take it. You don't have to hold back." His voice is a lot more wrecked than he'd care to admit. Jared hums and adds another finger.
A heavy palm to the back of Jared's head urges him closer to where Jensen's cock is leaking, aching, but all he does is run the tip of his nose up the length of the shaft and nuzzles at the head, again at the fatter spot at the base where Jensen's own knot wants to pop. You've got to be kidding.
"Jared, come on!" He means for that to be a growl but it comes out as more of a whimper. His tug on Jared's hair has the forceful edge he was going for, though, so there's that.
Jared’s eyes roll at him and he crooks his fingers just right to make Jensen forget how to process words for a second.
"I have been trying to sleep with you all semester, man. Don't rush me."
"Says the guy who almost came on my sheets a minute ago," Jensen fires back, torn up at the end when Jared hammers his prostate again.
It isn't until Jared has pulled his fingers free to start slicking himself up that Jensen actually catches up to what he just said. "Wait, you've been trying to sleep with me?"
That gets him a stare like a second head just grew out of his shoulder and started speaking in tongues.
"You cannot actually be that oblivious," Jared says, almost a laugh or maybe just a broken breath because he's lining up at the same time, the fat head of his dick pushing through the first ring of muscle.
Anything else that Jensen might have to say on the matter gets lost as his brain is whitewashed with endorphins.
Jared is a very big boy. Genuinely, impressively large the whole way around, length, girth, the whole bit. Not that that's entirely surprising given the rest of him and the fact that Jensen was holding onto it just a minute ago, but still. It feels like there's a fucking yard of it pushed up inside of him and it kind of really hurts and it kind of really doesn't at all. What it does is make him wriggle like a worm on a hook, too much and not enough a small eternity before Jared's balls finally rub against his ass.
Jensen honestly can't tell which one of them is muttering.
Jared's first thrust is slow, more of a roll of his hips than anything and Jensen's pupils decide to take a vacation to the back of his eye sockets. Hot breath against his ear makes goosebumps scatter across his skin, nipples going hard to rub against Jared's as he brings them chest to chest. The sensation overload sets Jensen shivering, muscles clutching reflexively around Jared making them both moan.
For all that he starts gentle, Jared picks up power quickly, long, deep strokes that soon have Jensen bracing his arms against the headboard and the headboard in turn ramming against the wall. He's so not going to get his room deposit back.
Jared has this knack of hitting him right where it counts, this little snap to his hips so that he slams Jensen's prostate with each push and then just drags across it all the way out, torching his nerve-endings white hot. His skin is slick with sweat, sticky and slithering where it meets Jensen's, trapping his neglected cock against hard, bunching muscle. His face, just inches above Jensen's, is flushed, mouth open on panting breaths with hungry little snarls mixed in. Bright, pupil-blown eyes are fixed on Jensen, impossible to look away from. It's so fucking alpha and so very, very hot.
Jensen would really like to know when exactly he became some beta stereotype without even noticing it. Just maybe some time when he isn't feeling the start of Jared's knot pulling at his rim.
A choked noise stutters out of Jared as his thrusts start to go sloppy, that swelling friction rubbing just inside Jensen and then pulling free again.
"Jens- I c- Oh God I-"
That's the moment that it occurs Jensen that if Jared's spent his life fucking humans - not 'wasting his dick', that would be bigoted and wrong but fuck, it's a really fantastic cock to be used on someone who's body isn't designed to take a knot - and getting fucked by weres then he's probably never knotted anybody before. The thought of being the first person Jared ever ties should not make the urge to cream himself crash through Jensen like hot lead but that doesn't stop it from actually doing so.
Fine, so apparently he is a beta bitch-boy for the right knot just like those pack bastards have always insinuated. Only for Jared, though. Jensen can live with that.
He tightens his legs around Jared's hips, pulling him in hard enough that he's all the way inside. From there Jared's instincts seem to take over, grinding him against Jensen's ass even as his expression sticks somewhere between nervous and blown away. Then he's in, snugged in tight and immovable right the fuck where Jensen needs it to go into nuclear meltdown.
All of that heat down low in his body moves in a tidal wave rush, igniting like gasoline to burn out everything inside Jensen that's not pure, electric bliss. His earlobes are tingling with how good it is and that's all before Jared ruts up against him a couple more times, unable to really move but giving it a shot anyway, and then jerks, full-body, as muted heat starts to spill deep inside Jensen. His own cock gives a hard twitch in response, blurting out another glob of come into the mess he's made of their stomachs.
And Jared... Jared's really something else. Because Jensen's good, he's set - an orgasm without tying on to someone may be shorter, but it's what he gets most of the time and it's plenty satisfying - but Jared worms a hand in between them anyway and fists around the bulge of Jensen's knot, a tight, come-slick grip that pulls him right back into the throes of it, his body convinced he's breeding someone up. Come splashes across his middle, thick spurts of it turning into puddles that slowly run down Jensen's sides. The bed's going to be thrashed but hell if it's not worth it.
It's close to half an hour later when Jared really starts to relax on top of him, still knotted but easing up to occasional deep pulses. Jensen has long since stopped, but considering it's Jared's first tie-on, he's not going to complain too much. Besides, it's sort of nice, some innate biological drive in him sated by submitting to this alpha. Plus, Jared's really warm.
He's making that pleased humming sound into the curve of Jensen's neck, drugged kisses trailed all along the skin there, still gentle enough that there's no chance of leaving a mark. Not that Jensen wants one.
"How long, do you think?" Jensen asks, at least ten minutes later when Jared's knot hasn't shown any signs of going down. It still feels kind of good, the tiny hitches of Jared's hips rubbing against his sweet spot to make up for the slightly abused ache of his hole, but his roommate is eventually going to come back and that could be kind of awkward. It'll still be obvious what they've been up to - even if he changes the sheets and opens the window, the smell of that much come is going to stick around for a while - but still being stuck on Jared's knot when he walks through the door is another thing entirely.
"Hmm?" Jared makes the effort - and it does look like an effort - to lift his head and look at Jensen. His eyes are glassy, obviously still more focused on his cock than on getting the hell out of Jensen so they don't get caught in flagrante.
"Really?" Jensen sighs. It makes his stomach muscles ripple which makes him flex around Jared which in turn gets him another inching thrust. This is a vicious cycle.
Jared just makes another growly noise and nibbles lazily at the hinge of Jensen's jaw.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jared's doing that head-cocky thing of his again, face serious and concerned.
"No," Jensen answers honestly. Then, "And yes," also honestly. He used to be much better at declarative statements before he started sleeping with Jared on the regular.
A smile plays at the corner of Jared's mouth and his palm shifts against Jensen's, fingers squeezing a little.
Somehow Jensen keeps feeling like the day should be more. Really sunny and warm or cloudy and foreboding. Or nighttime, night would seem appropriate for this. But instead it's just ordinary. Just the two of them sitting in a little clearing in the woods on the frozen ground looking at each other.
For the most part, it just smells like a forest, any old place anywhere, but there is the faint lingering scent of weres that picks up with the wind every now and again, a holdover from the Luna Club's run a couple of weeks ago. Jared had thought it might help get him in the right mindset.
He wants to say that this is just turnabout - Jared had a first with him, he should have a first with Jared - but that might not entirely be true. The truth is, as hard as he has fought to deny it, Jensen's wanted to shift before, particularly when he was a teenager and his hormones started kicking in hard, but he's always been too stubborn to actually do it, a matter of pride that became a sticking point.
But Jared makes him wonder. About a lot of things and this in particular. Maybe it's the pack thing, although Jensen's still not about to go around calling the two of them a pack let alone ma... anything else that weres might be inclined to call one another when involved in the kind of relationship he and Jared have. Whatever the reason, Jared brings out instincts in Jensen that feel frightening and new and strangely exciting.
There are whole facets of himself he's never spent much thought on, let alone time exploring, but Jared plays into them - or they play into him - with a kind of natural ease that has increased ten-fold since they started unofficially officially dating. And some of those things... well, if anything else he stumbles across in his more animal nature is anywhere near as good as the sex, shifting could be more than worth looking into.
A dimpled smile fires his way and Jensen does his best to ignore the happy twist his stomach gives - he has enough on his mind at the moment.
Theoretically he knows how to do this, it's a basic part of his DNA, but knowing he can and actually doing it are dauntingly different things. His eyes slide shut on the image of Jared watching him encouragingly, projecting a reassuring kind of confidence that some of those newly discovered aspects of Jensen's self latch onto to quell the roil of nerves.
With slow, calming breaths he concentrates on the idea of changing, wills himself to shift. A soft tingle builds at the base of his skull, explodes into an itch and suddenly he's swept up in a sensation like an entire night of being falling-down-drunk crammed into the space of three seconds.
It seems like it ought to be more difficult than this but it's as if his body wants to fit into place this way, rearranging just as easily under his command as it would turn a doorknob or tie his shoelace. It just does it. When he opens his eyes, he's looking up at Jared farther than usual.
If he wasn't already sitting - and isn't that a weird sensation with his tail laid out behind him - the first breath through his disconcertingly cold nose would send him staggering. There's just way too many scents, too much information, too much JaredJaredJaredJaredAlpha. He sneezes, trying to chuff the scents away, and Jared laughs.
Long fingered hands find their way into Jensen's fur before he has a chance to fully react, scritching lightly at his skin, moving up to the ridge where his ear meets his skull and... oh yeah, that's the stuff. He doesn't even realize that pitifully drawn out whine came from him until Jared laughs about it too.
Jensen fully intends to do something really intimidating to win back a little of his masculinity, he's the one with the fangs here, but then Jared's easing back from him and all in a rush, he's shifting too.
The first thing that strikes him is that Jared is still huge like this. Unfairly huge - coyotes are smaller than wolves, he shouldn't get to be bigger than Jensen. His fur is the same sort of fluffy chestnut mess as his hair, lean muscle bulking up a slim frame with long long legs leading down to paws that look about twice as big as they ought to be. Every inch the overgrown puppy Jensen's always thought of him as.
The second thing that hits him is the ground. Overgrown, pouncing puppy.
Just hard enough to get his attention, teeth dig into his ear, soft gnawing motions as Jared tugs and teases. Chewing on his ear. Can Jensen call it or what? A trickling growl winds out of Jensen as he tries to roll and flip the larger body on top of him, failing miserably - and maybe a little bit thrillingly.
Bushy tail wagging behind him Jared backs away, paws doing a victory dance like the smug punk he is. Well two can play at that game.
Jensen launches himself up off the ground, running full tilt as soon as his paws hit the dirt as Jared makes a break for the trees, peeking back over his shoulder tauntingly, just daring Jensen to give chase.
A hot rush of adrenaline surges through his veins, the 'yes!' screaming through his instincts coming out as an excited yip as he hurtles after that scent that's been driving him wild for weeks. That scent that marks what's his.