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The day following their affair beneath the blood moon was the longest of Hassan’s life.

One night had unexpectedly changed the entire course of his existence; questioning his faith, his future-- and most of all, his relationship with the priest in question. He was overcome with nerves, struggling to get to the end of the day without a spike of panic shooting through him at every negative thought that crossed his mind or tormented him.

By the time the evening rolled in, he was alone in his office-- two beers in and anxieties remaining high. Eyeing the clock, the minutes ticked closer to the inevitable meeting time-- praying the other man would keep his promise. The sheriff began to falter, until a knock at the door brought him back to reality; and not a moment too soon.

It was not an easy conversation, but a necessity nonetheless.

John was an honest man; after all, it was part of his job description. It was clear that Hassan’s feelings and longing were not one-sided, but the inner turmoil and conflict was prevalent in the priest. He was a man of God, first and foremost-- it was what he knew, a part of his identity-- just as was his vampiric blood.

Unlike Hassan, John had never had romantic relationships-- nor a bond as strong as a mate. The werewolf, on the other hand, had loved and lost a mate before-- and his son would also need to be considered for their potential future dynamic.

It was a situation easier discussed than realised. They would both require time to adjust, to consider their options-- no man was eager to jump straight to a new relationship before they’d properly considered their circumstances.

Since then, Hassan’s attendance at mass became a regular occurrence. He was open to the ideas of other faiths, but he was there for his son-- at least, that was what the residents of Crockett Island would assume. The sheriff had his own secrets, his own desires-- all stemming from the man before them, preaching from the good book and the word of the Lord.

Words went in one ear, and out the other-- all Hassan could focus on was his mate, and how he longed to be closer to him. But he would keep his distance, grant John the space he requested, and pray that there was a future within their grasp.

Now, with doubts on his mind-- a full moon was already upon him, sooner than he’d preferred. He could feel it, like a hunger deep in his stomach-- the wolf within him begging to be released, to feed, and now-- to claim his mate once more.

The sheriff grit his teeth in retaliation. He would cause no harm or unwanted attention to come to his mate; not now, and not ever-- not unless it was a mutual desire. Control would be his, mind sensible-- hands to himself for the inevitable night ahead.

As the sun began to set on the horizon, Hassan stumbled back into his office, locking the door as quickly as he possibly could with shaking hands. The feeling of shedding skin was overwhelming, a growl emanating from his chest, claws threatening to release the beast from confinement.

Time was running out. He had to act quickly.

Placing his possessions upon the desk, Hassan shrugged out of his boots and jacket, discarding them quickly by the door. He groaned with frustration, wiping sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand. 

With the last of his strength, the sheriff threw himself into the first cell-- slamming the door shut; locked, with keys far from reach. He collapsed to the bed, writhing upon it with discomfort. 

The wolf could be controlled and hidden away here. No one would know of his affliction. All would be safe.

A slither of moonlight touched his skin through the small window above; beckoning the beast to reveal itself.

Hassan rolled to his side, curling in on himself; breaths hot and ragged, fingers digging into his arms. The heat was beginning, the desire to mate an urge uncontrollable. Clothing stuck to his skin through sweat, scratches drawing blood, teeth gritting as he held back the desire to moan.

The need to change was unbearable. 

Fingers fumbled lazily at the front of his jeans, undoing them enough to slip a hand beneath his briefs, palming his hard, straining cock with haste.

The pain was his own doing.

It was Hassan’s wolf who had chosen John as a mate. A fellow werewolf would be drawn to him the same way, but the priest was far from a wolf-- and vampires were far from the monogamous type. 

Yet his body continued to yearn for him.

Unlike previous nights such as this, it was now harder to control himself-- knowing the one he desired was not within grasp.

Hassan wanted to mate.  

No, that wasn’t entirely correct.

He wanted his mate. He wanted John, here, beside him. He wanted to nuzzle into the priest’s neck, inhale his scent, steal his warmth, consume his lips--

Hassan whined; thoughts gradually becoming more lewd the longer John was on his mind.

His hand continued to work his cock, hips meeting the thrusts in time, biting his lip-- moaning the other man’s name softly through hitched breaths. His body ached for release, for touch, for friction-- for the warmth of another in his bed.

Hassan was struggling-- knowing it would never be enough to relieve the heat, to reach the pleasure his mind so desperately craved. Whether or not it was enough to get through the night would be a question unanswered--

Something startled the sheriff; a sound, a word, a scent-- something familiar, something he longed for, something he desired deeply--

Hassan gazed through hazy, bleary eyes, noting a shadowy figure by the door. Cold, reflective eyes illuminated in the darkness-- the wolf now realising he was no longer alone--

The cell door locked behind the other, leaving the two trapped together for the night to come.