Work Header


Chapter Text

Hassan refused to wake, finding himself in such a state of comfort on a level he’d not experienced in years. He could tell it was already morning by the bustling sounds of life in the distance, birds chirping and daylight reaching his skin. 

He was not accustomed to sleeping naked, but then again, it had been many years since he’d awoken in his bed with someone by his side.

A comforting warmth radiated from his chest, shifting slightly as he took in a particularly deep breath. It was then that Hassan finally cracked open an eye, the morning sun slithering into the room through the window, illuminating the man beside him. John’s hand twitched when Hassan reached for it, placing his own upon it gently. 

The sheriff couldn’t suppress a smirk as the previous evening’s events replayed in his mind; the memories reminding him of his sweaty, filthy state. A shower was well overdue, and Hassan was hoping it was an activity he would not partake in alone.

Neither of them had spoken a word once they’d kicked the bedroom door shut; undressing each other with urgency, desperate for hands to find skin, lips never leaving the other’s unless in need of breath. John had suddenly pushed him down on the mattress, ripping the last of his clothing off, insisting on holding control as he easily, and willingly, overpowered the werewolf.

The way John stared at him in that moment was enough for Hassan to become painfully hard, biting his lip as the priest made his way down his chest. It was obvious that John had planned out his intentions for the night-- coming fully prepared, each and every move of his hands calculated. 

Unlike their previous encounters, there was newfound intimacy-- they could take their time, enjoy each touch, every lingering press of fingers against skin-- slow and gentle, warm and inviting-- endless bliss.

And just like that, John had straddled his hips, wasting not a moment longer to sink down onto his cock-- swearing softly as the sheriff’s name fell from his lips--

Hassan’s breath hitched at the memory, eyes flying open as reality hit him all at once. Shit. It was far too early to be this horny, especially at his age-- feeling as if he was a teenager all over again.

With that being said, one thing Hassan realised, from their latest night together-- they had no need for full moons and heats to find release. If anything, their coupling had been some of the most satisfying sex of recent memory. Even in the current moment, still recovering from their activities-- Hassan was eager to learn of when they would next pick up where they had left off.

He turned his head to the side, staring at the slumbering man beside him. Hand remaining in hand, Hassan brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to John’s knuckles. The priest finally began to stir, mumbling incoherently, feeling the same disinterest at waking so soon. 

The sheriff chuckled softly to himself, finally releasing John’s hand as he brought his own to caress his face, brushing a few stray strands of black hair from his forehead. His fingers lingered against skin, tracing down John’s cheek, along his jawline, and across his collarbone.

“Good morning,” John murmured, clearly not interested in waking yet. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Hassan hummed, rolling onto his side for a better view of his mate.

Hassan’s hand remained, fingers curling around the back of John’s neck as he snuggled in a little closer. Their eyes met; tiredness reflecting as much as their mutual, intense desire for each other. The priest mirrored the other’s gesture, dragging the sheriff close enough for their lips to meet.

Unlike the previous night, it was soft; a delicate, loving moment between them. Neither sought to pull away, silently continuing to kiss one another without a further word muttered between them. The moment intensified, their actions gradually becoming more heated; John uttering a stifled moan when Hassan deepened the kiss with his tongue, shifting his weight atop the priest with newfound lust.

John melted into their embrace, thighs parting as another slipped between them. He couldn’t stop himself from nipping at the offered lips, hungry now for more than just sex, and growing increasingly impatient at the lack of both. Drinking blood was a natural pastime for him at this point in his life, but whenever he fed on his mate-- specifically, during their moments of peak pleasure and entwined limbs-- it was a level of satiation unlike any other.

But then as quickly as they were together, they parted; losing the moment more suddenly than expected.

As if all common sense returned at once, Hassan recalled something from the previous night-- something important, something that he’d completely forgotten as soon as John had locked eyes with him--

His son.

Hassan sat up so quickly with realisation that it caused his head to spin, feet barely touching the ground before there was a knock at the door. He flinched at the sound, mortified at the state his son would find him in should the door open.

There was a beat, before Ali cleared his throat on the other side of the door.

“Don’t freak out, dad, I know you’re not alone.” Hassan didn’t respond, unable to think of words as he made his best attempt not to have a complete breakdown there and then. “And I made breakfast. No hurry, though.”

The sheriff’s legs gave out beneath him, collapsing back to the bed, and finally letting out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in.

“That son of yours catches on quick, doesn’t he?” John smiled when their eyes met, watching the other man pinch his brow with frustration.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Hassan muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m just thankful he didn’t barge in unannounced.”

The tense moment passed as the two shared a laugh at the ridiculousness of their predicament. 

John rose to his feet, gradually stretching himself out to his full height, as naked as the day he was born. He could feel prying eyes burning into his skin, side-eyeing the wolf, and meeting a gaze full of silent hunger. He smirked, striding towards the ensuite and idling by the doorframe.

“Care to join me?” The priest asked, the corner of his lip curling up for a brief moment.

Hassan didn’t respond; instead choosing to close the distance between them; arm sliding around John’s back as he directed them both awkwardly into the shower with haste. It was clearly built for one, but he wouldn’t allow that to deter him from what he had in mind. 

Lips returned together for endless, searing kisses; hands searching skin, claws digging into flesh-- hips pressed flush against each other, cocks trapped between them, searching for friction and release. Heat intensified as the warmth of their bodies mixed with the water drenching them, drowning out the smell of sex lingering in the air. 

Hassan’s fingers dipped down between them, grasping their hard cocks firmly in one hand-- jerking them off together with an ever-quickening pace. Unlike the evening prior, time was of the essence-- and they both mutually sought a quick fuck over none at all.

With a drawn-out groan, John buried his nose in the werewolf’s neck; licking at flesh, fangs gently catching on skin. John wanted to mark his mate the same way the wolf had claimed him beneath the full moon. He was so very hungry, so very eager to feed-- but he was coherent enough to ask before taking such an offer--

“Can I…” The priest’s question was cut off by a growl; fingers tangling in his hair as he was forced roughly back into the offered neck.

“Yes,” Hassan insisted, biting his lip, continuing to jerk their cocks together beneath the water. “Fuck--! John, please--”

Without another word, fangs broke flesh-- the intense, sudden, intimate pain was enough to send Hassan over the edge with a muffled moan. John’s hands dug into hips as he greedily took his fill; finding release mere seconds after his mate.

With the water washing away their most recent of sins, their eyes met once more, breaths eventually evening out in the silence of the shower. Stray beads of water rolled slowly down John’s cheeks, making a line down his neck, before falling to the tiles below. Blood pooled below his lip, collecting by his chin, dripping away gradually.

Hassan was mesmerized, caught in the sheer beauty of his mate, unwilling to let the moment slip by him. But then John was closer, pressing his gored lips to the sheriff’s for one last intimate gesture before they parted.

Tasting his own blood upon his mate’s lips was an experience Hassan would never tire of.

Unfortunately for both of them, they could not remain together for the entirety of the day-- the sheriff was needed in his office, as was the priest required at church. The day was young, and they both had to retain appearances-- after all, word travelled fast on such a reclusive island.

Hassan was the first to excuse himself, hurrying to dry off as he searched for his uniform. It was unlike himself to be so very unorganised-- the unexpected company he’d acquired throwing him off balance. 

John stared at the pile of clothes scattered across the floor, quickly locating his shirt from the night prior-- only to find the thing practically in tatters, shredded by claws, now unrecognisable as a garment. He pulled a face, sighing as he allowed it to fall to the ground once more.

“Here.” Hassan touched his shoulder gently for a moment, eyes meeting with a familiar understanding. A bundle of clean clothes was thrust into his arms; John staring down with momentary confusion. “Hopefully these’ll fit.”

They were both close in height, even their builds fairly similar, although John was slightly leaner-- finding his career choice keeping him on the less muscular side. So the priest merely nodded, swallowing his pride at the thought of wearing anything but his usual attire, noting he had little options left to him.

Imagining himself dressed similarly to the sheriff was one thing; seeing it before his eyes was another.

“I look ridiculous,” John commented bitterly, staring at his unfamiliar reflection. Jeans were not new to him, but Hassan’s choice of shirt made him look less like a priest and more like a deputy. “This is no outfit for a man of God.”

Hassan allowed his gaze to travel up and down, enjoying all that was before him-- his mate, well dressed-- and wearing his clothes, no less. “Would you not agree it’s better than the alternative?”

John pulled a face, distaste at the comments clear. “I would prefer people question why I was naked rather than how I found myself wearing the same clothes as the sheriff.”

Hassan hummed, nodding in agreement. “That would be easier to explain, now that you mention it. The alternative would be less embarrassing though, I’d say.”

The priest sighed, tearing his eyes away from the mirror. There was no use holding onto such fears of judgement. If anyone was to learn of his relationship with the sheriff, then it would be a conversation between himself and God-- which in turn, reminded him of his overdue confession.

One sin of many more to come, it would seem.

Across the other side of the room, Hassan hadn’t even realised he’d frozen; hand on the bedroom door, eyes closed, head in a panicked state of uncertainty. He relaxed instantly when a hand found his lower back, snapping from his thoughts and returning to the present. Gazing over his shoulder, he met concerned, copper eyes.

“Ready for a morning of awkward conversation?” John asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Not particularly.” Hassan pressed his lips into a thin line, brow furrowing as his nerves began to get the better of him. 

Ali was waiting for him, but he had no idea where to begin. What would he say? Where would he start? How would he break the ice? He could barely hear himself think over all the endless questions and scenarios playing out in his mind, giving him not a single moment of silence.

John’s hand tensed, sensing his mate in distress. After a moment of contemplation, his hand shifted; fingers gently travelling down the sheriff’s arm. When his hand found Hassan’s, their fingers intertwined-- a simple gesture, but comforting nonetheless.

“I’m right here,” John said; calm and factual, and full of endearment. “Everything will work out, I promise.”

Hassan finally turned to his mate, letting out a shaking breath as he gathered newfound courage. The priest stepped closer, foreheads touching, warmth radiating between them in a familiar and soothing manner.

Without hesitation, the two indulged in a final, brief kiss before opening the door-- and preparing themselves for the first of many conversations they would have regarding their future together.