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Chapter Text

Tonight was the worst night of the month-- at least, for werewolves to be concerned. 

The full moon remained a daily enemy they could not escape. No amount of running or cover could allow them freedom from the lunar rays as they fell upon skin, urging them to awaken, beckoning them to run, to feed, to mate--

The thrill of the chase, the reward of the claim.

Mindless and primal.

Hassan was old enough, at this stage in his life, to be able to handle himself-- to control the urges, for the most part. Keeping his primal instincts at bay was no small feat, especially now, as a widower-- without partnership, he felt his restraint slipping with each progressive month. There was no one beside him to keep him satiated, to protect him, and guide him through the worst of the nights.

Losing a mate was never easy.

Finding another was unheard of.

This was his fate now.

It in turn caused further worry to him now, as a father. There would be only another year or two until his son discovered that he too had a dormant beast that lay hidden within. Parenting was no easy task, but adding in such an aspect to the difficulties of teenagerhood-- it was regrettable. And here he’d thought the puberty talk was difficult enough.

But in the interim, his duties as sheriff hardly ceased even for lunar occasions. It was important to keep his wits about him, especially considering recent events.

He’d had suspicions that there was another like him amongst the people of the island. Although scents were hard to trace, given how dense the land was, surrounded by sea water no less-- Hassan could feel it, deep down within his instincts--

That, and the other disconcerting issue regarding animals. Although generally not pets, there was little livestock as is-- therefore reports of death and gored animal corpses was more than enough for Hassan to investigate further.

Tonight, however, that would have to wait.

Hassan desperately wanted to tear the flesh from his skin-- to transform into the primordial beast within; his true self that was desperate to escape-- to run and hunt and mate--

He was starved for freedom, hungry for comfort.

The darkness loomed above him, tempting him--

Hassan shook his head, snapping himself out of the beast’s control. He would not so easily give in-- not yet. The night was young, and work remained unfinished.

His investigation led to an open clearing, within the small woods at the edge of the island. The mire was dense and unlivable-- a place where few would venture, locals or not. But as the moonlight illuminated the ground before him, the sheriff could hardly believe what he saw.

A deer. An animal not native to the island. That in itself was odd. He found it lying on its side, unmoving, presumably dead-- yet what sparked concern was the circumstances of said death.

The body appeared covered in gore, stemming from an unsightly wound to the throat. At first glance, one would assume it was an animal attack-- perhaps similar to that of a wolf. Such a concept alone should concern the sheriff, knowing he was, as far as he knew, the lone werewolf resident. 

But the longer he studied it, the clearer the bigger picture became.

This was something else, something--

Hassan’s ears perked up at a sound, a quiet rustling, closer than anticipated. He was on immediate alert, standing from his crouched position, eyes adjusting as they stared into the deep, dark surrounding foliage. 

Someone was there. 



It would soon become apparent if they considered the sheriff predator or prey. 

As his vision adjusted, his gaze fell upon two red, glowing eyes in the distance, locking instantly, unfaltering. Someone was watching him, waiting on the sheriff’s next move; caught in a standstill.

Hassan did not hesitate-- breaking into a run.

The chase was on.

Even through the darkness, Hassan was well aware he was on the right track. The scent of blood was dense, pungent in the night air-- and it followed the unidentified figure as he closed in on them.

Hassan had the added benefit of swiftness, taking only a manner of seconds to close the distance; leaping upon his prey and capturing them in an iron grip, tumbling to the terrain beneath. Through a struggle, Hassan managed to ground the other, hands firm, keeping them at bay. 

The sheriff stared down with the same shocked expression as the person below him, blinking through furrow brows as he realised the gravity of their current situation.

It was none other than the resident priest, Father John Pruitt-- except not how Hassan recalled him-- covered in blood, eyes wide and dilated, breathing fast and erratic. 

Yet there was something else that lay underneath the bloodied exterior-- 

He could smell it. The beast beneath. Now it made sense.

John was a vampire, Hassan’s natural counterpart-- an enemy. 

He’d not come across one in decades, being nearly as rare as werewolves. But really-- the town priest? Of all the possible residents of Crockett Island, he could hardly believe it.

But the more he considered it, the more it fell into place. The stories he’d heard-- of vampires burning like a demon upon holy ground-- must be nothing more than myth.

How convenient. 

“So--” Hassan bared his teeth. “You’re the one behind all this death.”

“You’ve caught me,” John sneered, opening his hands in surrender. “In the flesh.”

The sheriff wasn’t convinced; sticking a thumb into the other man’s mouth-- greeted by two sharp, pointed fangs on display.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Hassan raised an eyebrow as his hand retreated. “For a vampire to be a priest?”

“I assure you that it did not occur in that order,” John replied, turning up his nose. “What about you, then? Where’s your owner, dog?”  

The sheriff was dumbfounded-- he could hardly believe this was the same kind, gentle priest he’d met outside the church-- the same man who had Ali in his care. 

Hassan couldn’t help a protective growl escaping his throat, fingers digging into the other man’s shoulders; the priest now caught between the ground and a very pissed off werewolf.

Not exactly a wise decision to further antagonise the situation.

“Release me,” John requested with firm authority.

Hassan clicked his tongue. “I don’t think so. You’re coming with me.”

“Sheriff--” The priest’s words were cut short by a hitched breath, eyes wide as they stared at the stars. “Please, it’s not safe to--”

“I’m no pup,” the Sheriff retaliated, forcing the beast to remain at bay; moon be damned. “I can keep myself under control.”

“I know.” John’s eyes gradually darkened, turning a deep blood red. “It’s me you should be afraid of.”

Hassan’s brow furrowed, staring at the priest in confused bewilderment. His words made little sense, after all-- a full moon was a concern for wolves, and not vampires.

John tensed, turning his head away with a groan. Fangs cut into his bottom lip, drawing blood; tempted to bite the man upon him-- fighting an internal battle for control.

“You must run, before--”

A crimson light reflected against their skin. Hassan released his hold, startling up to stare at the sky above. Clouds parted, and vision became clear-- this wasn’t a regular full moon-- it was a blood moon. 

Dealing with a regular lunar occurrence was one thing-- but this-- this was entirely different. He’d seen his fair share of blood moons in his lifetime, but they’d always been planned-- calculated, organised-- safety ensured for all. 

How could he have miscalculated such an event?

“Oh.” Hassan grit his teeth. “Shit--”

Pupils dilated. A growl escape parted lips. Fur emerged from flesh. 

He could barely comprehend their circumstances before his conscious mind faded away, releasing the beast within.

Chapter Text

As man disappeared, a beast emerged.

Hassan’s wolf knew nothing but hunger, in all possible forms. 

A scent lingered; wanton pheromones-- a delightful smell he sought to drown in.

There was only one explanation for such a occurrence:

A desirable mate, unclaimed, inviting, available--

Within reach.

Something shifted beneath him-- caught beneath the weight of his claws. Hassan gazed down, only for cold, reflective eyes to meet his own. A person he recognised, but nothing more than a meal for the wolf.

John snarled, failing to lash out as he sought freedom; arching in the wolf’s hold in an attempt to escape. But then as quickly as his struggling began, he stopped-- remaining frozen in place, still to the point that breath dissipated. 

The wolf edged closer, nose pressing into the vampire’s neck, drinking in his scent with curiosity. There was no reasonable explanation why his prey would be defeated so easily--

Which was how he found it to be but a ruse.

That was Hassan’s mistake.

In a flash of movement, red eyes glimmered in the moon’s reflection-- sharp fangs sinking into the wolf’s neck before he could place distance between them. He immediately retaliated-- claws digging into flesh, ripping the vampire from his neck and throwing him off with brute force.

John scrambled to his feet, smirking as gore ran down his face-- wiping it against his hand, before enjoying a taste. He practically lapped at it like a kitten; a silent insult to the wound inflicted.

As pain radiated, the stench of blood hung in the air-- but it only made Hassan’s desire stronger. With a deep, primal growl, the wolf shed the last of his skin; fur and claws replacing what little of the man remained-- now unrecognisable as anything more than a beast. 

Instincts were in control now-- mindless need; a dangerous game--

John faltered once he gazed upon the wolf’s true form-- realising he was outmatched, deciding his only viable option was to run.

If the wolf’s prey sought freedom, he’d allow a head start. The waiting would only further fuel his desire to capture the priest, to mark him, mate him--

He was eager for the chase--

The claim.

Hassan could no longer retain control.

Running across the forest floor, the wolf already attained an advantage-- no man or creature on two legs could possibly outrun him. They’d have to rely on wits alone, but for a vampire, that remained near impossible-- as their scent was so easily tracked.

It was the blood, and the pungent smell that lingered-- not one easy to shake, and in turn-- it would lead him directly to his meal.

A single, calculated leap was all it took before Hassan’s claws wrapped around the other-- capturing him within grasp as the two tumbled to the hard ground beneath. 

John was crushed beneath his weight, grunting with discomfort as a large hand caught his hair, pushing his face further into the dirt. Hands clawed into the surface below, unable to free himself from confinement. 

There was something primal about it-- the feral hunger, the instinctual lust, the desire to take and taste and breed--

Neither man remained in their right mind under the light of the blood moon.

Hassan had lost all restraints, but even in such a state of mind, the wolf was aware his prey was a vampire-- the smell was different, the taste-- yet such differences aside, they were compatible. He held prime mate material beneath his claws-- and wanted to take full advantage of that fact.

Mind was hazy, yet lust was plentiful.

He could see how this would turn out badly for him later-- a vampire, a priest? Engaging in such activities with one another was unheard of.

But they both had beasts within-- enemies, perhaps, but what they matched in strength could cause compatibility in other ways--

One of which held particular interest.

Even with the wolf in control, he would admit that he’d become intrigued by the priest since they’d first met. To his surprise, once laying eyes on John, he knew his son was in good hands. However it felt rather insulting to allow for a priest to be quite so handsome and charming as he was--

Those being two irresistible characteristics leading them to where they found themselves now.

The wolf intended to claim him.

Hassan couldn’t fault the beast.

They were filled with primal instincts. To run, to feed, to fight-- to fuck. All elements they craved, all that they had not indulged in for far too long.

John stopped fighting, melting beneath his fingertips, back arching against warmth with unmet need. Hassan followed suit, leaning far enough forward to cover John’s back with his chest, slotting together as if made for each other. 

The wolf was already overcome with lust; cock hard and grinding against the back of the other man’s thighs. The priest gasped at the sensation, unable to resist rutting against it-- clear their need was reciprocated.

Hassan promptly tore John’s clothes from him, no time to be wasted-- eager to lay his mouth upon the pale skin hidden beneath. 

A large hand circled around to John’s front, freeing his own aching cock from confinement-- strong fingers curling around him, meeting the same rhythm as the wolf’s ruts. The priest shuddered, voice echoing through the darkness until he was silenced by the wolf’s free hand. He bit down in protest, but Hassan refused to falter-- allowing the vampire to feed from him in moderation as he sought release.

Hassan forced thighs together, fucking between them with urgency. John shuddered at the friction-- feeling the wolf’s ridiculously large cock nudging against his own. He was overcome with a desire to be filled by it-- wondering what deep, carnal pleasures it would fulfil.

The thought alone caused him to tip over the edge; coming with a shout-- covering Hassan’s hand in sticky release-- and keen to use it to his advantage.

The priest’s hips were lifted as oversized, slick fingers dipped into his tight heat; hissing at the sudden stretch and burn. His knees dug harshly into the dirt below, body tensing-- it was clear the wolf had little patience remaining--

And at this point, he could hardly wait any longer either.

John clawed at the ground, sweat sticking hair to his forehead-- unable to do more than stay conscious as he was ravaged. Then the fingers were gone, and he sighed at the hollow feeling left in their wake-- before something else pressed against him with interest.

With a single, calculated thrust, the wolf buried himself to the hilt; the priest moaning like a harlot as sounds of pleasure continued to escape his lips.

Hassan fucked into him without mercy; claws digging into pale hips, entranced by how the other man’s skin reflected the moonlight. Even the wolf could see how beautiful it was; feeling his soon-to-be mate relaxing in his hold, as his thrusts were met eagerly.

He’d never imagined fucking a man like John into submission-- but it was a gorgeous sight to behold.

As their fucking quickened, their bodies melded into erratic thrusts; shouts and moans echoing through the empty forest. Neither could think straight, or form words-- fucking themselves back to normalcy under the moon’s rays.

The wolf was reaching his limits.

John’s eyes flew open in a panic, hissing with fear as pleasure turned to pain. Hassan nuzzled into his neck, licking his tender skin, slowing down to dull the hurt. The wolf was eager to be a good mate, to be worthy of his claim-- he couldn’t allow anything but bliss to be given by his hand.

With a grunt, his cock swelled, knot forming, connecting them at the hip. John came again with a gasp-- the sheriff joining him shortly afterwards-- locking them together as the priest was bred mercilessly.

The wolf growled, teeth bared-- biting down on John’s neck, breaking the skin, marking him-- staking his claim for all to see.

Hassan fell to his side with a grunt, wrapping his arms around the priest as he continued to ride out his orgasm deep within him. John moaned at the full sensation, gradually squirming less-- placid in the wolf’s arms as he accepted the offering. 

He licked the bite mark, nuzzling into the priest’s hair with a satisfied sigh. They’d be stuck together for a while yet; and he’d revel in the warmth whilst it lasted.

Hassan couldn’t stop a low, weak growl of possessiveness escaping him, unwilling to let go, or allow the darkness to consume him-- but his body fought against him.

All he could do was hold his mate close as dreamless sleep enveloped them.

Chapter Text

Several thoughts flooded John’s mind as he began to wake from slumber; first and foremost-- he was uncomfortable. Where he lay was no bed nor floor, but dirt and twigs. Which led him to the second-- he felt unabashedly filthy, in a way he thought not possible.

Memories came back gradually, piecing together events as they fell into place. Staring up at the stars, John’s mind remained hazy; the red moon retaining it’s hold on him. But his control had returned, yet the heat was yet to dissipate.

His first attempt to rise was thwarted by the strong arms he found encapsulating him, holding him close to another warm, naked body. What John could only describe as a growl of possessiveness followed; claws drawn but not causing harm.

The priest carefully peered over his shoulder, finding the familiar face of the town sheriff nuzzling into his neck with a gentle hum.

For a dog, he was almost cute in a way-- especially like this, so gentle, calmed and exhausted. It was clear the effects of the blood moon continued to ravage his mind; fever and sweat upon his forehead, hard cock rutting against John’s thighs with lazy interest.

He was almost pitiful.


Even for John, lust remained-- but so did the hunger.

The night was still young, the lunar effects were lingering-- and the priest had not yet had his fill. It took several slow, steady attempts to finally free himself from the sheriff’s arms-- and in response, the werewolf made a sound of disapproval; rolling onto his back, nose twitching idly.

When John managed to rise to his knees, an unfamiliar pain shot through him at an alarming rate. The discomfort of his back and thighs was no surprise, but his neck-- he’d--

Oh, of course-- how could he forget. Dogs always sought to mark what was theirs. It would seem this one was no different to the rest. Nothing but a hurdle to address later. For now, John had his sights set on something else.

Straddling the other man, John settled atop him comfortably; hands caressing the wolf’s chest, enjoying the soft, satisfied sounds he received in response. Placing his balance on one hand, John groaned as he slipped fingers inside himself-- warm and sticky, shuddering as remnants ran down his thigh. He’d been bred relentlessly, that much was clear-- but for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as he’d expected.

The priest leant forward slightly; long fingers brushing the messy hair from the sheriff’s face as he slimbered, lingering a moment to caress his face. He could not deny that he was a handsome man-- even for a werewolf, of all creatures.

At least now they were on equal playing fields-- the wolf having disappeared; only a man remaining. He could still have his fun until the morning light broke-- deciding he might as well enjoy this opportunity while it lasted-- and quench his thirst as well.

John received no resistance as he sank down on the inviting cock, thighs quivering-- biting his lip after one too many moans escaped him. He preferred to be dominant, to be in control-- but there was something about the wolf that brought out such a different side to him-- one he never knew existed until now.

He was hoping to have a little fun while the other slumbered-- but it was over before it even began.

Hassan’s eyes shot open, entranced by the naked form sitting atop him. They stared silently at one another, frozen in place, as the reality of their situation sunk in--

But Hassan could hardly complain, given the circumstances. It wasn’t often he awoke to find an attractive man fucking himself on his cock-- now all he wanted to see was more.

Hands on John’s hips, the sheriff thrust harshly into him without warning, back arching as hips rose from the ground. The priest tensed at the sudden change, falling forward as a moan ripped from his throat. Long, messy locks of hair fell either side of his face, the other’s mere inches from his own.

Hassan had never seen anything so enticing in his life.

Although his wolf was now at bay, under control-- at least, for the time being-- he was keen to take the opportunity to see more of the priest he’d now call his mate. With a lick of his lips, and a deep, possessive growl-- he maneuvered a hand to the vampire’s back, before flipping them over with gentle need.

The new position would work in his favour.

Hassan remained in control-- hooking his arm under a knee, bringing it to his shoulder-- and thrusting impossibly deep. The priest could do no more than swear through sounds of pleasure, hands latching on to the wolf’s shoulders, pulling the other flush against him-- beckoning him deeper.

A request the sheriff happily obliged-- fucking into the other man with newfound haste-- desperate for more friction, more pleasure-- to cover himself in his mate’s scent, and solidify his claim.

John had never been ravaged in such a way in his life-- and yet he desperately longed for more, until his conscience riddled him with guilt-- and he prayed for his sins to be absolved--

But for now, he was nothing more than a primal, lustful harlot-- and he revelled in every moment of it.

Hassan tensed as claws dug into his back, urging him closer-- neck nuzzling into the priest’s, teeth ghosting flesh. The mark he’d left there hours earlier was still fresh, needing time to heal-- and it would, eventually-- but always leaving a mark in its wake.

A visual sign of his claim.

That thought alone filled him with ever prevalent lust-- thrusting harder than intended into the warm, pliant body beneath him, drinking in every moan reaching his ears. But then something happened, something he hadn’t expected-- and how could he, having never bedded a vampire?

Sharp fangs piercing his neck, latching onto his skin-- causing the sheriff to let out a sudden, surprised gasp of pain. He stilled for but a moment, realising that John required to feed-- and there was no other source of food in sight.

With a slow, careful shift of his arm, Hassan ran a hand behind the priest’s neck, fingers digging into his hair, keeping him close as he fed. It was painful, uncomfortable-- without a doubt, but it was clear to the wolf that his mate required it-- so he’d let him, whilst the energy remained to do so.

In the interim, there was no reason for their fucking to cease. If anything, the blood only made the wolf eager for more pleasure. So Hassan continued-- fucking him slowly, gently, deeply-- so close to reaching his own, delayed climax.

There was something about how primal their affinity was for one another, how they fit together so perfectly, how the pleasure far outweighed the pain-- a lust like no other-- causing another possessive growl to escape the wolf.

Hassan slipped his free hand between them, fingers closing around John’s neglected cock as he stroked in time with each slow, calculated thrust. The action finally caused the priest to free his neck with a moan, throwing his head back-- gore covered face and lustful eyes meeting his own.

The sheriff couldn’t stop himself, entranced by the sight-- even covered in blood, the priest was unbearably enticing. He closed the distance between them, urging the other man to meet his lips-- drinking up every moan he received as he continued to bring them closer to orgasm.

There was such a ferality to their intimacy. 

Neither could get enough--

Nor would they last much longer.

John’s entire body tensed, claws digging into flesh, biting his lip-- swearing crudely as he came with a shout. Hassan couldn’t last another moment longer, drinking in the sight of the priest coming undone by his hand. Holding hips flush against his own, he finally tipped over the edge-- breeding his mate, nipping at the bite mark with a gentle possessiveness

The wolf tried his best not to collapse on the other, struggling to regain his breath. Their eyes didn’t meet, as John’s hold became limp in his arms-- passing out beneath him. Hassan took a moment to appreciate the view-- the priest’s naked form was quite appealing in the moonlight.

He hoped this would not be the last time to see such beauty.

But sleep was beckoning him, strength drained from limbs. Hassan pushed himself to the side, collapsing mere inches from his mate-- only separated long enough to pull John into his arms, keeping him warm and comfortable for the slumber to come.

There still remained a few hours until sunrise. They both needed rest, as neither man was in a state to think rationally, nor form words. All Hassan could comprehend in his last waking moments, was that for the first time, in a long time-- he felt a connection he thought impossible to regain-- not since his last mate.

Whether or not John reciprocated their bond would remain to be seen.

Chapter Text

Hassan stirred from sleep gradually, blinking blearily at the light shining directly into his eyes without mercy. He attempted to turn away from it, but it was everywhere-- all encompassing. It made no sense-- his room was never this bright in the morning-- and he did not feel well-rested in the slightest.

Something wasn’t adding up, but it was hard to focus in such a sore, groggy state of mind.

A cold shiver ran up his spine, the brisk morning air kissing his skin-- which was when he noticed his apparent naked state of being. Not only that, but an additional weight resting upon his chest-- warm and soft, inviting and comforting--

Hassan’s eyes carefully glanced down to see another man in a similar state-- slumbering in his arms. He swallowed thickly; taking in the sight-- pale skin, long, dark hair-- flesh covered in scratches, bruises and bites--

It was undoubtedly, unmistakingly, none other than the resident priest - Father John.

The sheriff felt every ounce of strength leave him, lying in stunned silence as pieces of the previous evening came back to him, slotting together a picture of blurry events.

The chase, the claws, the bites, the blood, the sex--

“Shit,” Hassan swore under his breath. “Not again.”

What was he-- a teenager? Running through a forest, fucking under the full moon, bedding a priest? He was too old for this shit. How was he going to explain this to his son, let alone the congregation? Even his own beliefs were being tested, considering the circumstances.

Hassan was shocked from his thoughts as the other man came around, groaning with displeasure, pulling away from the sheriff’s warmth as he struggled to sit upright. After a long, drawn-out yawn, the priest’s eyes met the sheriff’s, lingering a moment. He blinked, staring down at himself, fingers running along his skin, noting the marks left upon him with clear distaste.

“Thank you so much ,” John started sarcastically, “for an unnecessary filthy morning.”

Turning his head to the side, the priest hissed in pain-- shooting out suddenly from his neck, clamping a hand down over it on instinct. It was deep, fresh, sore-- a mark. John grimaced. He’d been bitten by a dog, it would seem. How poetic. He could not afford to linger on such circumstances-- he needed a long, hot shower to wash away these sins-- physically and spiritually.

The sheriff could only stare with silent concern. He was nervous-- how could he not be? That mark wasn’t a regular bite-- it meant more, or at least-- to a werewolf. There was a bond between them, tugging at his chest, drawing him towards the other man.

They were mates.

He could hardly believe it.

“I... claimed you,” Hassan stated with a dawning realisation. “Last night, we--”

“Yes,” John interrupted with uninterested agreement. “I can see that.”

The priest’s eyes were anywhere but on the sheriff, keen to place distance between them. The reality of their situation felt heavy on his conscience; knowing his place as at the church, and his dislike of werewolves and their kin.

Hassan struggled to sit upright, shifting closer. “We need to talk about this--”

“Need I remind you that I am no werewolf?” The daywalker cut him off, rising to his feet-- stumbling momentarily as feeling came back to his limbs. He dusted himself off, stretching out. “And I am also a priest, if you’ve not forgotten.”

Hassan’s eyes lingered on the tall, naked form standing over him, drinking in the sight of every mark and scratch left upon the priest by his own hands. His pale skin was covered by dirt and blood-- thighs remaining damp with their previous night’s coupling.

“As if I could forget.” The sheriff cleared his throat, enjoying the view a little too much. “It’s... a good look on you.”

John grimaced as their eyes met. “Please do not objectify a man of God.”

“But you make it so easy,” Hassan teased, unable to contain a snicker.

The priest merely rolled his eyes in response, walking off in the direction of town-- muttering something underneath his breath. 

“Wait, John--” Hassan followed suit, shifting to a jog, catching up with the priest, hand encircling a wrist. “Please-- let’s talk about this, at least.”

“I’m already late.” John dismissed him, pulling away. “We can discuss this after mass.”

Hassan was momentarily stunned, freezing on the spot as his mind clicked into place. With a heat colouring his cheeks, his brow furrowed in amazement. How could this man, albeit a priest, even comprehend holding mass after such-- well, to put it lightly-- such a night of carnal sins?

John paused a few paces away, eye catching something by his feet. Reaching at the ground beneath, he stared intently at what he now held in his hand. It was his prayer beads-- something he’d long since missed, promptly rubbing them between his fingertips. 

“I’m in dire need of confession,” the priest commented to himself.

“Alright. I get it.” The werewolf placed a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Let me give you a lift back home, at least. I’ve got some spare clothes in the trunk.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You just-- carry a spare change wherever you go?”

Hassan shrugged. “Wolfing out has a tendency of destroying my clothes, so… it’s a habit.”

The priest merely pulled a face, but couldn’t deny that he felt uncomfortable remaining naked for such extended periods of time. It was an offer he would not refuse, he decided, as they continued on their way back to civilisation in mutual silence.

Returning to his truck, Hassan scrambled for supplies in the back-- passing an oversized shirt and jeans over to the priest, who accepted them without further comment. Seeing John naked and covered in blood was one thing-- but he looked almost comical in the sheriff’s attire.

He felt his cheeks flush with sudden modesty-- redressing himself with haste before sliding into the driver’s seat. The uncomfortable silence remained even after they made their way back towards the church. 

The morning was young, the streets were quiet. Most were still asleep-- and no one would notice either man’s rather odd appearance for a Sunday morning.

Hassan parked a few paces from the priest’s homestead, turning the engine off as it hissed into silence. He licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the priest. Even dishevelled and filthy from a night of outdoor fucking, he was an impecable sight to behold. It took all his strength not to reach over and pull him close-- remaining unsure what the man thought of their newfound bond.

Rejection felt imminent, but the werewolf had to hold out hope that this could work-- after all, he’d been alone for far too long to let something like this slip through his fingertips.

John reached for the door handle, lingering a moment in contemplation. He retreated, shifting to face the sheriff, leaning in a little closer.

“Regardless of the odd circumstances we find ourselves in…” He paused, mulling it over; seeking the best phrasing for his thoughts. “I can see this being... mutually beneficial.”

Hassan’s heart leapt into his throat, lips parted but words escaping him. Their eyes searched each other’s silently-- and he could already feel the bond growing between them. The moment felt fleeting yet eternal, and the sheriff felt an overwhelming sense of trust and hope, unlike anything he’d felt in years.

If Hassan had a tail, it would be wagging erratically with prospect.

“I’ll see you at your office. Tonight.” The priest averted his eyes a moment, clicking his tongue. “Around ten. Make sure we won’t be disturbed.”

The sheriff nodded incessantly, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He’d clearly fallen deeper for the other man than he’d first expected-- or realised, for that matter. Honestly, at this point, he’d do anything the other man requested of him.

“I’d… I’d like that,” Hassan replied softly. “Tonight at ten.”

The corner of the priest’s mouth quirked upright for a fraction of a second-- gradually turning into a brief grin. His eyes darted to their surroundings, finding the morning quiet and bare. Hassan was about to ask if there was a problem--

But then long fingers curled around his neck, pulling his face close as warm lips found his own in a sinful kiss. The sheriff leaned into the embrace, humming gently, soaking up the heat of the other man while it lasted.

John pulled back with frustrating slowness, lingering by his face a moment longer. Hassan stared glassy-eyed as they pulled away, feeling the warmth of the other man’s lips remaining. The priest stared into his eyes one final time with a smirk-- playfully tapping his cheek.

“Good boy.”