Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Eames, OCs
Word count: 8,135 (this part)
Warnings: heat, underage, knotting, mpreg, dub-con, violence, character death (non-canon characters)
Summary: Werewolf!AU. Arthur is sixteen and completely oblivious when he first goes into heat, only saved from it by charismatic senior and other fellow werewolf Eames... and that's not even the most complicated part.
Written for cherrybina's Kink Fest 2.0
Betaed by the lovely kansouame
Atom to Atom (Feel It On Me Love)
Ever since Arthur could remember he'd been... different.
He hadn't been different in the way other kids were either. He'd been born with a strong sense of smell and agility that was largely ahead of his fellow classmates, and for some reason this caused his parents to be ridiculously over-protective of him. It seemed like these kinds of abilities would have rendered them fearless, but they never let him go to his friends' houses after school, never really allowed him to get out and go anywhere at all, especiallyafter dark. Despite his frustrations and his protests, Arthur's parents assured him it was for the best. They nailed his windows shut and put a lock on his bedroom door from the outside, and he sat on his bed feeling like he was in prison.
At this point, Arthur didn't really have many friends at all. His distance from his fellow classmates and superiority in school had caused him to become the perfect target for teasing, bullying, and ridicule. Even worse, at sixteen, he'd just now "blossomed," shooting up in height and voice dropping low, and until that point he'd felt like a fourth-grader around a bunch of high schoolers. They had all seemed to share the same sentiment. The sudden interest in guysthat he couldn't seem to keep secret certainly didn't help matters either.
Arthur started to hate going to school. More so, he started to hate his parents. Weren't teenagers supposed to have a little freedom by this point? He wasn't even allowed to drive.
There was a party.
He'd heard it being whispered about, a party on the night of the full moon, and everybody who was anybody was going to go (and he wanted so badly to be anybody). So, over dinnertime, Arthur took a chance.
"So, um... Bobby Meeler's having a party on Saturday for his seventeenth birthday," he said softly, pushing his peas around on his plate. "Could I... maybe... can I go? Just for a couple of hours?"
His father looked at him as if he'd just asked if he could set the lawn on fire. "No, of course not, Arthur. You know you're not allowed to go out at night."
"It's just one party... and I'm sixteen now. I'm not going to break, you know. I'm responsible. I can handle myself."
"Arthur, honey," his mother said, reaching out and touching his hand. She was going for sweet, but to Arthur it just came across as condescending. "You're sixteen. We're protecting you."
"From what?" Arthur asked in exasperation. "Monsters? Drugs? I'm not stupid. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'll only go for a couple of hours and-"
"The answer is no," his father said sharply, nostrils flaring as if he smelled something strong and vaguely foul, though Arthur wasn't sure what. Arthur squirmed under his gaze, suddenly itchy. "In fact, you'll be staying in your room."
"That's not fair," Arthur whined, but a sharp look from both parents shut him up.
Arthur sat on his bed, pouting. The clock beamed 7:02, and his bedroom door was locked. He paced the room, looked through his bookshelf, and straightened his bed covers. The clock beamed 7:03.
"AUUUGH!" Arthur shouted, flopping down onto the bed face first and growling into his pillow. His body was itching with the desire to go out, to be free, and he couldn't stand it!
He paced the room more quickly this time, growing more and more exasperated, unable to keep still, and his adrenaline was rushing, rushing, rushing, and he didn't know why.
He looked towards the window where the full moon light was beaming inside, and suddenly his hunger to escape grew stronger. He looked out the window at the ground two stories below and thought I can make that jump. It was a bizarre, crazy thought, but it bounced around in his skull until he absolutely had to try.
He rearranged his bed to make it look like someone was sleeping inside of it, pulled the nails out of the window one by one (when had he started to have the strength to do that?), opened it, and stepped out onto the ledge of the house. His heart hammered against his chest as he shut the window, and then he dropped.
Somehow, he landed on his feet... and he ran.
Arthur ran, ears buzzing, the scenery flying by him in a blur. He didn't know if he'd ever run quite so fast in his life, if he'd ever seen quite so clearly, if he'd ever smelled so strongly-
Wait, what wasthat smell?
No, no matter.
Arthur ran until he made it to Bobby's house, where the party was just kicking off, ten miles away...
He'd run ten miles. He never knew he was capable of such a thing.
He approached the house slowly, getting some looks from other kids that were lingering outside and drinking beer, and he squirmed, itchy. He knew some of the kids from school, knew that they didn't like him very much. Maybe the party wasn't such a good idea, he thought, but he'd come too far to turn back now.
The music was blaringly loud on his sensitive ears when he got inside, and there were so many smells that it made him dizzy. Were parties supposed to be this much murder on the senses? He could hardly breathe from the strength of the smells of alcohol and other people. For a long time he just found himself moving through the crowd and trying to figure out up from down. He could hear someone asking him what the fuck he was doing there (though his vision was swimming so much that he couldn't tell who it was), could sort of feel some girl rubbing up against him (he wished she wouldn't since it was so fucking hotin the house), and...
Well, he definitely felt it when someone spilled beer all down the front of his shirt.
"Fuck!" he hissed, bolting out the back door into the yard, trying to rub it out with his hands. If his parents smelled beer on him he was screwed, so screwed, so very, very screwed, and...Ohh...
Suddenly he didn't feel so good. His itch was starting to get less manageable, his dizziness getting worse, the creeping heat rising even though he was outside... and there was that smell again, that unknown intoxicatingsmell. Sweet... woodsy... unknown and so…
He was drawn towards it, stumbling out into the woods behind Bobby's house, nearly collapsing to his knees if it weren't for the tree he'd grabbed hold of.
The lights and noises of the house faded behind him, leaving him alone with the sound of the crickets and that enchanting smell. Just as he started to tell himself he needed to go back, he spotted a stream and momentarily forgot the smell. "Oh, yes," Arthur said thankfully, tugging off his shirt and lowering it into the water, trying to scrub out the smell of alcohol. It would have been better if he had some soap, but it would have to do for the time being. If he could just get the alcohol smell to fade a little, then he could run back home and—
The itchy heat slammed into him again suddenly, so hard that he nearly fell forward into the stream. Panting, his face flushed, he looked up at the stars to try and get his wits about him. They seemed to be spinning.
Vaguely, he recognized the quiet crunch-crunch of an approach and...
"Hey... I know you. You're that one bloke… ah… forget your name. What are you doing out here?"
Arthur looked over his shoulder, wheezing.
It was... Eames?
Eames was the school superstar, a staple in quite a few sports teams if it so suited him that year and the lead in just about every school play. He was a senior, British, and charismatic as hell, and everyone loved and worshiped the ground he walked on... What the hell was he doing out in the woods away from his fans and- Jesus Christ was that tormenting and glorious smell coming from him?
Arthur whimpered before he could stop himself. He tried to stand but only managed to fall to the ground, rolling in the dirt pathetically. He couldn't believe Eameswas seeing him like this and would have been embarrassed had his body not already been a disaster of sensations.
"Oh," Eames said, surprise flying across his features. "You... You? You?"
"M-me-" Arthur stammered, stumbling to his feet and grabbing hold of a tree. He felt so hot all over, like he was burning up inside, even in the cool night air. "What're you doing here... why do you smell... Oh, God..."
"Jesus," Eames hissed. "I thought I was the only one of my kind at school... but you? Really? You?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Arthur whined and dropped to his knees, shaking. "What's happening to me? Did- did you do this with that smell? That thing on you that smells- Did you poison me? Did someone poison me? Something's wrong with me-"
It didn't matter that it didn't make sense. He was just burning and dizzy and... hard... Wait, that was weird. Why the hell was… Fuck, he couldn't hold onto a thought. All that mattered was getting it to stop.
"You idiot, you're in heat," Eames said. "Don't you know better than to go out by yourself?"
"Animals go into heat, not humans," Arthur growled, realizing immediately when Eames knelt next to him that the smell was not something Eames was carrying but Eames himself. He also noticed just how good-looking he was when he was up close.
"You're not human though," Eames said in wonder. "I thought I was the only one... I thought there weren't any other wolves about outside of my pack, but look at you. You're one of us... I never would have suspected a scrawny git like you to be one of us."
Arthur whimpered when Eames's hand met the back of his neck, arching into his touch. "I don't... know what you're talking about..." he said again, somewhat uselessly.
Recognition washed over Eames. "Oh, my God..." he said, stunned. "They... they never told you. They never told you?"
Arthur stumbled to his feet only to fall clumsily into Eames's arms and started to cry out as his cock pressed painfully against his zipper. "Told me what? Please- just make it stop- Please, please, pleasemake it stop, make it stop, make it stop, please..."
Eames stared down at Arthur, his eyes as bright as the moon. Suddenly, Arthur was attacking his mouth in a kiss. It was fumbling and inexperienced, but Eames didn't stop him. After a moment, he was actually kissing him back, easing Arthur to the leaf covered ground. His hand trailed down Arthur's bare chest, igniting the nerve endings that were already screaming.
"What bastards your parents must be, expecting you to just..." he trailed off when his hand ghosted over Arthur's fly, and Arthur yelped, bucking up into his hand.
"Please... please..." Arthur begged breathlessly. "I won't tell anyone, just do something... just do something... You know what's wrong, please help me..."
"Poor thing," Eames whispered and undid Arthur's button and zipper, tugging the trousers down his legs. "I never thought that you were one of us. You always had an interesting smell, but it doesn't smell quite like me... and it doesn't smell like my older brother either. You're... not an alpha... I don't think you're a beta... Perhaps you're from a different clan-"
Arthur shouted when Eames took hold of his prick, coming just from the touch until his body was completely spent... Yet, he was still hard, as if he hadn't come at all. He started to cry. "Please, please, do something, please..." he begged.
Eames dipped his fingers lower, curious as he met with his entrance and found hardly any effort waiting for him. "Did you prepare yourself earlier? Was this planned?"
"No..." Arthur sobbed, pushing down onto the fingers as if he couldn't control it (and he really couldn't). "I don't even know what that means... I don't know what's happening... Please..."
Eames took a long whiff of the air as he leaned over him, pupils blown, and he growled, "You're an omega. How is that possible? I thought they were extinct."
Arthur stared up at him, looking for some sort of explanation but really hoping for something else, and then Eames kissed him again, as if he couldn't control himself, and Arthur pressed as much of his feverish body against Eames as he possibly could, rutting against him.
"Fuck," Eames hissed and made quick work of undoing his own fly. "Fuck, I can't- tell me that I-"
"Please," Arthur gasped, suddenly realizing that this was exactly what he needed. He wasn't sure why. He just knew. He needed it. He would dieif he didn't get it.
Eames flipped him on his back and pushed in with little to no effort, and Arthur came a second time just from the fullness of it. "There, there, now, you can take it," Eames whispered, holding on until his body stopped trembling to start moving.
Arthur pressed his face into the dirt, wheezing for air as he became nearly instantly hard again.
Eames fucked him. He screamed and howled as Eames slammed into him roughly again and again, and it felt so bad and so good at the same time, fingernails digging into the dirt as the moon, their only witness, beamed down upon them. "Yeah, that's it," Eames growled.
"Harder, harder," Arthur chanted mindlessly, and Eames obliged, pounding into him relentlessly until all of a sudden he fell still. "Don't- don't stop, don't-" Arthur stammered.
"Fuck, fuck-" Eames gasped, entire body trembling and then... Arthur felt it.
Eames was getting bigger inside of him. He was swelling up and it was only when it started to hurt that Arthur realized how much. Panic immediately started to set in. Arthur clawed at the ground, clenching down on him, and the pain mixed together in the weirdest sort of pleasure caused him to come harder than he had either time before combined, harder than he everhad.
Eames spilled into him too for what seemed like forever, and then flopped to the side with Arthur still attached to him. Arthur tried to move off of him, but he couldn't have done it even if he'd had the strength. "I'm sorry..." Eames panted against his ear. "Didn't realize how close I was..."
"What's happening?" Arthur croaked, but before Eames could answer, he was unconscious.
Arthur awoke about an hour later, itching and squirming. Hazily he registered that he was being fucked again. "Yes, yes," he stammered, numbly grabbing at the earth. He barely knew what was going on until Eames was stretching him out, making him start to ache, and he clenched down on him again, barely aware that he was coming. He dropped off again as soon as it was over.
When he regained consciousness again (at least that he could remember), it was, according to his cell phone, 3:00 A.M., and he was alone. He got up, every muscle protesting. He pulled his jeans up and grabbed his shirt out of the stream. Had there not been the constant reminder of a screaming ache everywhere, he would have thought it to be some sort of insane dream.
The shirt was still sopping wet even after he squeezed it out, but he put it on anyway and limped his way back towards Bobby's house.
The party was still going strong to Arthur's astonishment, and he hated the fact that he'd be forced to pass at least someone in the effort to get home. He was covered in dirt, wet, and aching. His hair was a rumpled mess, and, while the terrible fever seemed to have dissipated, he was still dizzy.
He lowered his head and tried to make his way through the crowd without drawing much attention to himself, but he only made it halfway across the lawn before someone noticed him.
"Well, well, Arthur Pearson. What the fuck are you doing here?"
Arthur cringed and slowly turned to look at the group of boys approaching, a couple of the typical big-brute types who seemed to like Arthur as their favorite thing to bully. "I... I was just leaving," Arthur croaked.
"You're not goin' anywhere," their leader Scott said, reaching out to grab Arthur's shirt collar, pulling back his fist. He was grinning over the opportunity to hit him. Scott had always been the type who enjoyed a little violence. Arthur always figured he was compensating for something, but he wouldn't dare say that out loud and risk being murdered.
Scott never got the chance to hit him this time.
Arthur turned when someone grabbed hold of Scott's wrist, twisting it sharply and causing him to drop Arthur.
It was Eames... Oh, thank God!
Wait, what the fuck?
"Eames, what the-" one of the others cried (Arthur thought his name might be Brad or Brent or something), and Eames threw down Scott with a little more force than necessary.
"Touch him and you die, are we clear?" Eames growled, and all of them slumped back from him.
"But... he's a fucking nerd- you eat guys like him for breakfast... What the fuck?"
"Touch him. And. You die. Clear?" Eames asked, and they all bobbed their heads up and down before scurrying away.
Eames turned to Arthur, expression unreadable. "You're a mess."
"You left me in the woods," Arthur said weakly, wanting to sound angry but lacking the strength.
"I don't owe you any favors," Eames replied, taking him by the elbow and leading him through the party crowd and out into the street. "Where do you live?"
"T... ten miles from here," Arthur mumbled, legs nearly giving out as he explained the street and address.
"I'll drive you home then, I suppose."
Arthur followed Eames to a hot black convertible, awkwardly slipping into the black leather passenger seat. "Thought you didn't owe me any favors," he mumbled.
"I don't, but... well... They still don't have any right to kick the shit out of you. I hate people who get their jollies off of violence for the sake of it. If you're going to fight, you're supposed to have a purpose, and you should never pick a fight with someone who doesn't stand a chance against you, ah, no offense. You probably could have taken him at full strength."
Arthur shrugged. "I doubt that."
" Plus I... well... I ah- I couldn't help myself. Like it or not, I'm heat-bonded to you for a bit, so my instincts will make me protective of you. It should pass in time." He started the car.
"Yeah, but... about that... what the fuck do you mean by all of that? Heat? Alphas? Stuff like that? You said I was like you... I don't understand."
"That's because your parents didn't tell you," Eames sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know why, but they didn't. You'll have to take that up with them... but ah- basically um- have you heard of werewolves?"
"Yeah... duh. They're supernatural- horror stories, movies... fake."
"Not exactly. It's not as simple as movies make them out to be. You don't transform during the full moon. You transform when you learn how and when you get too angry. It's an adrenaline thing."
"Wait... s-so you're telling me that I'm a werewolf? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Arthur snorted, frowning.
"Dumb or not, it's the truth. There are three types. Alphas, betas, and omegas. I'm an alpha male, a born leader and the future leader of the pack since my father died. My older brother is a beta. He's below me in rank despite his age because he doesn't have the same physical qualities that I do. Alphas run the pack, betas take up the rest of it, you see? And you… Well, I suppose that you're an omega- you're... extremely rare. I thought there weren't any of you left."
"So, what's an omega?"
"Not completely sure... All I know is they're sometimes referred to as 'bitch males' and they can lubricate themselves."
"Oh, great," Arthur said sarcastically. "That's exactly what I needed to add to my reputation. That's the cherry on top. What happened to me tonight?"
"You went into heat. I'm assuming it's your first one considering your reaction."
"So... we go into heat. Well, how convenient for me," Arthur grumbled.
"Don't get mad at me, I'm just telling you the truth."
Arthur sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just kind of... freaking outright now."
"You'll be all right."
"How long is this heat thing supposed to last?"
"Oh, I'm sure you're about over it now. It was only your first heat. You should be fine. I probably fucked it out of you pretty good- Oh, and um, sorry about that. It's a bit difficult for me to resist an omega in heat. I tried not to, but you kept asking me to, so-"
"It's fine, whatever," Arthur mumbled, slumping in the seat. "Thanks for helping me out."
Eames shrugged. "It wasn't really any trouble for me. I'd just been coming off of my own heat cycle. The only reason I went to that bloody party was to get some, but I couldn't stand the noise and the smells."
"Oh, if it was bad for me it must have been bloody unbearable for you. When heat starts your senses go fucking haywire. They've probably been gradually increasing for days." Arthur squirmed in his seat a little, blushing. He hadn't realized it before, but it definitely made sense now.
"I guess..." he mumbled. "So, uh... what now?"
"Nothing," Eames shrugged, turning a corner and coming to a stop in front of Arthur's house at Arthur's feeble point. "You went into heat, I fucked you out of it, end of story."
"B-but... you said that I was the only other one like you. So, you and I are the only werewolves at school... so..."
"So what?" Eames asked.
"So... we aren't like... comrades or something now? I mean-"
"Arthur- I don't even know what pack you belong to, all right? I do know you're not a part of mine, and as far as I've known so far we're the only pack in this area. Sex is just sex. Once my heat-bonding with you passes, everything will go back to the way it was."
"Oh..." Arthur said gloomily.
"Don't sound so disappointed," Eames laughed.
"I'm not," Arthur said, but he sounded even more disappointed. Eames didn't understand... wasn't the whole 'first time' thing supposed to be special? Wasn't the whole 'losing his virginity' thing supposed to be with someone who cared about him and knew his name? "So- uh... anyway... um, the thing that you- your uh- when we were-"
It was Eames's turn to blush. "They really didn't tell you anything. Um... yeah, that was just uh... a knot. It's used in mating rituals; only alphas can do it- nothing for you to worry about. You can only mate with a female. You know... pups and whatnot."
Arthur just stared at him, somehow feeling… unsure... "Well... thanks for the ride... I'll just uh... climb back in my window now." He climbed out of the car, legs and ass stinging.
Eames didn't even stick around to say goodbye, leaving Arthur in the dust.
Arthur sighed and made the difficult climb up a tree and the jump to his window sill, tumbling into his room without the grace he had possessed earlier in the evening.
Slowly, he limped into the attached bathroom. He immediately caught sight of his reflection and frowned. He looked like he'd been mauled and buried. His eyes were sunken in, his lips bitten raw, and when he pulled off his clothes he found that he was bruised and scratched and bitten. He'd never been such a wreck.
He climbed into the shower, and the hot water soothed his aches at least somewhat, and he took his time bathing though he couldn't seem to get the lingering scent of Eames completely off of him for quite some time. Maybe it was just still in his nostrils.
He dressed in his most comfy pair of pajamas and curled up in bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
Something felt different, but he was too tired to dwell on it.
Surprisingly, Arthur didn't get caught sneaking out.
He wasn't sure how he'd managed that miracle, but his parents had been none the wiser when he came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and achy but otherwise completely fine. His bruises and bite marks were hidden underneath his clothes and Eames's smell was completely absent.
"How are you this morning, Arthur?" his mother asked, and for a moment her expression shifted leading Arthur to believe that he'd been discovered. Quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
Arthur looked from her to his father, the new knowledge Eames had given him blossoming in his head. "What happened to me last night?" he asked, voice hoarse. "I felt weird, and then... well, I don't know…"
"I'm sure it's just the weather or something," his father said, opening his paper to conveniently hide his expression.
Quietly simmering with rage, Arthur grabbed the toast out of the toaster as it popped up and left for school, slamming the door behind him.
Apparently, they intended to keep him in the dark. It was too bad Eames had already turned on the light.
School was the same as always except for the fact Arthur was left pretty much alone on the bully side of things and able to just concentrate on his school work (not that he needed to, being straight-A as it was). He kept to himself like he usually did, shuffling from class to class, going home, coming back. The only odd thing was that Arthur felt like he was seeing more of Eames as the days passed, but he thought that perhaps maybe he was just finally bothering to notice. Maybe he'd been there all along and Arthur hadn't been paying attention. He never spoke to him anyways.
His peace lasted for about a week, and then Scott decided his grace period had been long enough and was out for revenge (as if Arthur had done anything).
Arthur's back slammed against the locker, and he yelped, wincing. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, thrashing a bit uselessly in Scott's grip while his group of cronies snorted and laughed. He'd been so worn out ever since the heat. He still hadn't gotten over his fatigue.
"You think someone's going to come to your rescue this time, you little shit? Now, I've got a proposition for you. You can do my English paper for me, and I won't break your nose, only bruise it, clear?"
"Fuck you!" Arthur cried out and instantly regretted it, flinching when he saw the fist come sailing his way.
The next thing Arthur knew, he was on the floor, his nose was bleeding, and there was someone crying.
It wasn't Arthur.
Eames had tackled the guy and punched him in the jaw. "What did I say before?" he growled. "Bastard, what did I say?"
"Why are you sticking up for him?" his friend whined, helping him up.
"Piss off," Eames snarled, eyes flashing momentarily gold, and they bolted.
Arthur stared, mesmerized. "Wh... what?"
"Fuck!" Eames complained, punching a nearby locker and leaving a rather severe dent in it. "Why haven't I broken this yet? Fuck!"
"What, your hand?" Arthur asked, and Eames seemed to remember he was there.
Arthur sniffed, feeling blood run down the back of his throat.
Eames pulled him to his feet and checked his nose. "Not broken," he mumbled.
"What's not broken?" Arthur piped up again.
"The heat-bonding," Eames said lowly just in case anyone was around. Arthur found himself staring at Eames's collarbone, licking his lips. "Also, your nose isn't broken either."
"Oh," Arthur said distractedly. "Um... so?"
"This bond should have been broken days ago..." Eames grumbled and sniffed at his hair. "Why d'you smell different? New shampoo?"
"I don't think so," Arthur said, wiping his nose on his wrist. "I'll just… I'll go now then."
Eames sighed, taking Arthur by the wrist. Arthur was a bit thrown by how his hand could wrap all the way around it with no issue. Eames dragged him into the bathroom and propped him up on the sink and dug out a handkerchief from his bag, wetting it down and wiping Arthur's face with it. "Tilt your head back."
Arthur did so, and after a few minutes, the bleeding stopped.
"Thanks," Arthur said awkwardly.
"Something- something is wrong. I shouldn't still be bonded to you like this," Eames said. "I shouldn't be compelled to follow you around."
So he hadbeen seeing more of Eames.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said softly, expression mildly alarmed.
"Well, I don't mind you protecting me," Arthur offered teasingly, and he smiled, and momentarily Eames seemed dumbstruck. "What?" he asked, grin faltering.
"Have you ever done that before?"
"You're an idiot," Arthur replied flatly.
Eames cleared his throat and looked at the ground, biting at his lip. "It'll- It'll pass. Few more days. It'll pass."
Arthur hopped down off of the sink. "All right, uh... see you later then."
The bathroom door clapped shut behind him.
It didn't pass.
Over the next few weeks, Arthur found the bullying of his person dropping off completely, all because Eames would step in whenever he was in danger, and, while he appreciated it, it was a bit unnerving. Eames was basically stalking him it seemed, always everywhere Arthur went but never lingering close enough for Arthur to talk to. He'd just send subtle glances in his direction.
Arthur, for one, was having trouble dealing with it because he had his own problems. He was still trying to figure out just what he was, but there wasn't anyone he could talk to, and the internet had not provided any help. Besides, he'd been embarrassed to search, afraid his parents would check his web browser (and probably a little scared of what he would find)... and on top of that, he was tired. His body just didn't seem to want to get up and go in the mornings, probably because he spent a lot of the night going to the bathroom. So, really, Eames's hovering around him seemed more freaky and unsettling than the bullies themselves.
It was afternoon about six weeks after all of this had started, and Arthur was shutting his locker when suddenly Eames was there next to him. Arthur jumped back, startled. "Eames," he gasped.
"Your smell is off," Eames said. "It's been off."
"I know. You told me that before."
"That's what it is," Eames said, having decided this. "That's what's keeping me bonded to you. It's that weird smell. What isthat smell?"
"Fuck if I know," Arthur replied, leaning away from his nose.
His head swam a bit.
"You have to know, it's your smell. What did you do? Shampoo, deodorant?"
"Ugh- nothing is- uh- nothing is different..." Arthur stammered, going suddenly very green, holding onto the lockers with one hand, his stomach with the other. "I... mmph... I think I'm gonna be sick..."
"I'm sorry if I offend you so much-" Eames huffed, thinking that Arthur was teasing him.
"Not kidding," Arthur said frantically, and Eames seemed to notice just two seconds too late.
Arthur hurled on him.
"Oh, bloody- bloody hell!" Eames cried out, stumbling away from the line of fire, even though he was already covered in sick.
"M'sorry..." Arthur said, slumping against the lockers.
"I tried to warn you!" Arthur retorted weakly, sitting and burying his face in his knees. "I was sick this morning too... and the day before yesterday. I think it's the stress of finding out my whole life has been a fucking lie."
Eames tugged off his vomit-covered shirt, not seeming to care that they were still on school grounds. It wasn't as if there was anyone around. "Look, I'm sorry your life sucks, but you could just askyour parents about all this rather than lamenting your existence all the time."
"I did. They pretended not to know anything. They intend to keep me out of the loop forever I guess."
Eames fished a basketball jersey out of his gym bag and slipped it on, sighing. "Come on... I'll drive you home."
"I'm not a charity case."
"Just... let me?"
"I puked on you."
"Are you coming or not?"
Arthur sighed, getting to his feet with Eames's help, and trudged off to the car.
It was pouring down rain, so both of them were soaked by the time they crawled into Eames's car. The drops pitter-pattered against the roof but were mostly drowned out by the music coming from the radio.
Once they were out of the parking lot, Eames turned the music down low and said, "They've been talking about us, you know."
"They?" Arthur asked.
"Everyone. They think I'm barking mad because I'm so protective of you all of a sudden. That or, well, they think you're doing my homework for me or something."
"Yeah well..." Arthur mumbled, but didn't really have much more to say.
"It's kind of awful really, how they think you're something so meager and insignificant."
"Such is my life-"
Arthur stared at him as though he'd sprouted another head. "What?"
"You're not what they think you are. I've been watching you. I see how you are... You're not... an answer-machine or a pompous snob. You make mistakes like everyone else, and you're shy, and you're... lonely."
Arthur swallowed thickly and said, "I am not lonely."
"You don't have any friends."
"I do so. They're mostly online friends. It's... it's just hard to talk to people around here..." he looked away, ashamed of himself. "I've always felt like I was different, and now I know why, but it doesn't help me at all... I still don't know what I am other than what I'm called."
"My parents have some old tomes in their library about it. I'd have to hunt them down though."
"You have a library?" Arthur asked, a bit surprised. "Maybe I can help you find it. I'm good at finding books. I work in the library at school."
Eames took a right instead of a left, and Arthur knew they were headed to Eames's house. "Well, the pack is out on a trip, so it's just me there since I didn't want to accompany. Let us see what we can see, yeah?"
Arthur smiled at him, dimpling his cheeks, and for some reason that made Eames's cheeks flush.
Eames's house was way out in the middle of nowhere. Arthur discovered this because he fell asleep to the sound of the rain beating against the windows and woke up an hour later to find they were just getting there.
When he saw the house, he understood why... because it wasn't really a house so much as it was, "A FREAKING CASTLE."
"It's not a castle," Eames said, hitting a button so the gates would open. "It's just a big place."
"There are probably rooms in here you've never been in," Arthur said flatly. "It's a castle. I've never seen a house this big in my life."
Eames pulled the car around behind the fountain of marble wolves and stopped. "Don't embarrass me, darling."
"Darling?" Arthur questioned, heart thudding a bit more quickly for some reason.
Eames seemed to catch himself. "Oh, ah... it's a... a British thing... we're old money by the way."
The inside of the house seemed somehow bigger than the outside, and Arthur for one thought that the ornateness of it all was borderline tacky. He didn't say anything about it though. "You're in this place all by yourself?" he asked, hearing his voice echo off of the high ceilings.
"A lot of the time, yes," Eames said. "It's not too bad. I actually like to get away from it all once in a while. I'm a bit of a lone wolf, pardon the pun."
"It's just you and your parents here?"
"No, no, of course not. My father is dead, so my uncle heads the household. My uncle and aunt, my cousins, my brother, my grandparents, my mother, we all live here."
"I thought that you were the alpha."
"Well... I am- technically, but... when my father died I was too young to take the helm, and to get my position, I'll have to knock my uncle out of power. That means he'll have to die. Frankly, I'd rather focus on other things right now."
Arthur licked his lips, uncomfortable, and quickly changed the subject, "So, um... where's the library?"
The library was massive. It was floor upon floor of books, and Arthur suddenly started to feel like this job was too difficult for him. He immediately felt tired at the sight of all the spines, not knowing what to look for or even where to start.
"This way. Restricted section, I'd wager."
Arthur followed, alarmed and oddly thrilled by the feel of Eames's hand on the small of his back. He snorted, trying to hide his flush. "Restricted section? Lead the way then, Harry Potter."
Eames chuckled. "You're not funny. It's that smell that's making you funny."
The restricted section was nothing to sniff at either. It took up nearly a fourth of the gigantic library. "It's going to take days to sift through all of this... possibly even weeks..." Arthur said dismally.
Eames seemed to have a similar reaction at the realization if the look on his face was any indication. "Well... I suppose we should get started then, yeah?"
They started searching.
After about four hours, they hadn't gotten anywhere. Arthur had had to run to the bathroom twice and was now slumped against a shelf, staring at words but not really reading them. "This is hopeless," he croaked as he felt Eames's shadow descend over him.
"We can take a break," Eames said, and Arthur tensed as he felt Eames's hand slide up his thigh to his hip.
Arthur turned towards him, swallowing thickly. "E-Eames?" he asked, voice tiny.
"Mm?" Eames asked, dazed.
"You're um... really close to me..." Arthur said, leaning back against the shelf.
"You just smell good," Eames said. "I don't know what it is, but with you here, alone like this... I just... can't get enough of it. It's not mixed in with all those scents from school."
He leaned into him, thigh pushing between Arthur's legs, and buried his nose against Arthur's hair. Arthur squirmed a little, kind of liking how Eames's strong thigh felt underneath him. "I don't smell anything," he said softly. "All I know is my breath probably smells like vomit, even though I used the mouthwash in the bathroom- ah-"
Eames mouthed at his neck, dragging his teeth gently across the skin, and Arthur forgot all forms of English that he knew for a long moment.
"Fuck, I don't know what it is- but... that smell... it's so good... it makes me want to fuck you."
Arthur choked on words for a moment, tilting his head back to let Eames lick at his collarbone. "Then why- uhn- why don't you?"
Eames growled in delight, gripping his hips in his large hands. "Is that an invitation?" He rubbed his thigh against Arthur's groin, and the whimper he received was really all he needed.
It got a bit hazy after that. There had been a clumsy fumbling with his jeans, and then he was hoisted up so his legs were wrapped around Eames, and Eames pressed him up against the bookshelf and shoved inside.
The angle was awkward, and Arthur still wasn't sure how to do anything, so he just rolled with his instincts, arms splayed along the shelves behind him, gripping on for dear life.
Eames changed angles with a grunt, which caused Arthur's hand to knock books off of the shelf, crying out as they tumbled and scattered.
"Put your arms around me," Eames rasped against Arthur's shoulder, nosing the collar of his shirt as far away as he could.
Arthur did as told and a moment later they were crashing to the floor, entangled in each other, kissing messily. Arthur moaned, Eames's hands rucking up his shirt tail and feeling all over and everywhere, digging his nails in in places just enough to make Arthur's skin tingle. He was kissing down his chest when all of a sudden he stopped, and Arthur whimpered at the halt in movement. "What? What did I do? What's wrong?" he asked through gasps for air.
"S-sorry," Eames said, fighting back a grin. "Just ah-"
Arthur propped himself up on his elbows, looking for the reason why. It didn't take long for him to find it.
"Um... no offense, but ah-" Eames said with a slight giggle. "You've got rather good-sized nips on you."
Arthur's whole face turned red, and he pulled his shirt down over them in humiliation. "They're not always like that," he said, voice cracking. "Th-they're usually like anyone else's. They just... got darker and bigger for some reason. Fuck, I hate puberty."
"That's not puberty. That's weird," Eames said, and the note of concern in his voice made Arthur's heart thump harder in his chest. "I've never seen that before."
Arthur looked around wildly for some sort of distraction, not wanting to hear it. "D-does it make me unfuckable?"
Eames smiled. "No, 'course not," he said, and leaned over him, pressing him back down to the floor with his weight, licking into his mouth.
It only took Arthur a couple of minutes before he was groaning as he came, and Eames was right behind him, pulling out before he tied with Arthur and sending come across Arthur's belly.
"You're nasty," Arthur said flatly when he saw the mess, then gasped when Eames proceeded to lick it off of him.
"You hungry?" Eames asked.
"I'm hungry. Come on, let's take a break."
"We already did."
Eames grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the library. Arthur marveled at the size of Eames's hand and how warm it was around his wrist.
While Eames was mulling about in the kitchen looking for something to microwave, Arthur found himself curled up in an overstuffed arm chair, answering his buzzing cell phone. "Hello?" he said.
"Arthur!" his mother's voice, "Where the hell are you? School was out of session hours ago!"
"Oh- um..." he looked around, "I'm doing a project with some other students. We have a lot of research to do, so we went to the library. I texted you about it... It must not have sent. You know how my phone is."
She fell silent for a moment, as if waiting for her anger to wind down. "Be home soon then. You know you're not allowed to stay out late."
After hanging up, relieved he didn't have to come up with whatever 'project' it was on the spot, Eames came wandering back in. "Well, I don't know how to cook, so I can order out for us. Got any cravings?"
Arthur watched him for a long minute, thinking, as a matter of fact he did. "Something spicy," he said. "It's weird. I don't even like spicy food, but I totally want something spicy."
"I'll get Indian food then," Eames said with a grin and disappeared into the kitchen again.
Arthur settled into his chair, digging out his science book to go over the notes he'd shoved inside of it for the next day's quiz. He'd barely started to look at it when the next thing he knew he was being shaken gently awake.
"Huh?... What?" he asked, staring blearily up at the ridiculously high ceiling. His notes were scattered on the floor, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, one leg propped up in the curve of the back.
"Food's here," Eames said, and Arthur tumbled out of the chair. "Jeez, I can't seem to get enough sleep."
"You might need to see a doctor," Eames said, setting out the food.
"Yeah, I'm so sure my biology of being a werewolf won't completely freak out a doctor. We have a family doctor, and even if I went to him in secret, he'd probably tell my parents," he sat on his knees in front of the coffee table, opening up the takeout. "I don't even know who I can trust anymore besides you."
"Me?" Eames asked, chuckling a little. "Why would you trust me? I've been a right arse to you."
"You're the only one who's told me the truth," Arthur replied simply as he quietly ate his food. It was like Eames knew exactly what he wanted, and Arthur had never even had Indian food before.
"Arthur, I..." Eames started and trailed off. Arthur looked up at him through his eyelashes. "I... You're an all right bloke. Don't let anyone tell you differently."
"Considering you're the only English student at our school, I doubt anyone's going to call me an un-all right bloke," Arthur said with a smirk. Eames's face burst into a grin as well.
Arthur was beginning to suspect that they might be friends after all.
After they had finished eating, the sun was starting to set, so Eames drove Arthur home.
They were halfway there when Arthur realized, "I've got a couple of drops of come on my shirt. Fuck."
"Well, at least you didn't have vomit on your shirt," Eames offered with a slight chuckle. "Just turn it inside out and avoid your folks until you're in different clothes. Shove the shirt into the back of your wardrobe."
"You act like you've done this before," Arthur said with a small chuckle, tugging his shirt over his head and flipping it. He took a moment though to look at his chest again, shaking his head. "Fuck... I must look like some kind of freak. I'm glad I don't have to take my shirt off in gym class."
"From what I can tell, you've been cutting gym class anyways."
"I'm just so tired," Arthur offered pathetically, slumping in his seat after pulling his shirt back on. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe my whole body's just shutting down or something. If I die, you'll come to my funeral, right?"
Eames laughed loud and joyful, and Arthur for one thought it was a terribly pleasant sound. "Yes, of course, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've never heard of anyone dying from big dark nipples."
Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that too. They laughed until it hurt to laugh and gradually fell quiet.
"You know..." Arthur said after the silence had dragged on for a bit. "I uh... I had never been with anyone before you. I'm... kind of glad that you... took a little time to put up with me."
Eames sighed. "Arthur, look, I- what I said- I'm sorry about that. It was really bloody awful of me. There was no reason behind that. I was just a little crazed from the scent of heat. I didn't know anything about you, and I was kind of worried you'd start claiming I forced myself on you, but... well, I know you a bit better now, and I know what a good bloke you are, and I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Arthur said. "You've been way nicer to me than most people."
"And that sucks," Eames told him, "because you're one of the few people I know with dignity."
"I hardly think letting people shove me into lockers and put my head in the toilet is dignified... Besides, you're just saying that because you're bonded to me." Arthur wasn't sure why it was so hard fight back on getting his hopes up.
Eames's eyebrows drooped, but he didn't say anything else about it. Arthur knew there was no way he could prove the statement true or false.
Eames stopped about a block from Arthur's house and Arthur thanked him for the ride. Eames tugged him close by the shirt collar and kissed him goodbye, and Arthur was so dazed by it that he missed his house and had to round back.
OH GOD I STILL DON'T KNOW WHY I WROTE THIS. Normally mpreg is one of my squicks, and it most definitely still is in most cases, but I guess I wanted to challenge myself to look at something objectively and try to write outside of my comfort zone. Maybe I'm just weird. I don't know.
There'll be more as soon as it's betaed and edited by meeee.