5. Five
Five
September 2017 - Five Years Ago
Phoenix Campbell
I can’t help but wince as Alfie takes a rough tackle on the pitch. He’s a good player for his age, but he's overdue a growth spurt, and his scrawny frame isn’t built for taking hard tackles yet.
We’re nearing the end of the season, and it’s cold where I’m standing on the sidelines. My breath lingers in the air like a puff of smoke as I breathe out. I’m not training today; only coaching the under-twelve team my younger brother plays for. Keeping an eye on my stopwatch, I blow my whistle to let the kids know the drill is over.
They all sprint over to their water bottles the second they register the noise. Their arms, legs and even their faces are thoroughly caked in mud from practising tackles.
“Two more drills, and then it’s home time, boys,” I shout as I walk over to explain. Alfie stands off to one side, slightly away from the group. He loves to play, but he’s never quite figured out how to interact with them all.
It doesn’t help when you already know you’re different. I remember that feeling all too well. Eventually, I learned over time to put the wolf shifter in me to the back of my mind so I could be part of the group, but a divide always remained. With only a handful of exceptions, people high up in government/ police, humans who have married into a wolf pack, and the few who find out by accident, there will always be an us and them . Some shifters believe we should go public, but the reality is that it will always be too dangerous. The likelihood of us being hunted or captured is too high risk.
“Come on, the sooner we get started, the sooner you can grab a shower and warm up.”
When practice is over, the boys run off towards the outbuilding where the changing rooms are. Alfie stays behind to help me pick up the various equipment dotted around the field. While I think it’s partly because he has to wait to catch a lift home with me anyway, it’s also because he’s struggling with where he fits into the team.
“Why don’t you go and get changed with the others? I’ll come find you when I’m done,” I suggest. He shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay. I want to help.”
“It’s hard to make friends with your teammates if you always avoid them off the field, Alf.”
“They don’t want to be my friend.”
“You don’t know that; you need to at least try.”
“I do know that. I heard Johnny and Fletch last weekend saying the only reason I’m on the team is because I’m your brother,” he says it matter of factly as though it’s not somewhat soul-destroying to hear your teammates talking about you that way behind your back.
It’s under-twelve rugby in the Lake District; there is no criteria to make this team. Alfie could be related to the local drug dealers, and he’d still get a spot. We aren’t picky. But Alfie is a wolf; he might not have had his first shift yet, but it won’t be long now. He’s fast and slippery with shifter eyesight and quick reactions. Once he builds his confidence, he’ll be showing up little shits like Johnny and Fletch.
Maybe 'little shits' is a bit harsh to say about children, but if they’re going to be nasty to my baby brother, they’ll be doing hill sprints next weekend.
With all the equipment put away into the storage room, Alfie finally heads to the showers, just as most of the boys are heading out to meet their parents to go home.
I check my phone. Barely past eleven am. Only approximately twelve more hours until I get to see Cee… I don't know what's wrong with me. My skin feels like it's pulled taught around my body, and it only relaxes again once I'm in his vicinity. By every Sunday, I'm vibrating with need. How embarrassing. But he's like water in the desert, and I can't seem to get enough.
The beginning of Autumn has brought a significant drop in temperature and, thus, an abrupt end to my late-night swims. The pair of jeans I packed to change into are sitting on the ground next to me, but I decide to enjoy the warmth of my wolf form a while longer since Cee hasn’t turned up yet.
Resting my head against a large mossy rock, I watch the waterfall, which is flowing more enthusiastically after a large spell of rain earlier in the week. My nose twitches, somehow scenting him before I even hear him approach. The hairs on my neck stand on end, and I can feel his eyes on me. The sound of leaves crunching on the ground is followed by a large grey furry head rubbing against my shoulder.
Cee has a pair of blue denim shorts clutched between his teeth and dangling from either side of his muzzle. He drops them on the ground with my clothes.
We both usually shift right away because we can’t speak to each other when we’re in our wolf forms, but I’m comfortable and warm at present, so I’m not in such a hurry.
I’m also not feeling especially chatty today. I’ve recently started the final year of my history degree, and I got into a massive argument with my mum this afternoon about applying to do my teacher training next year. Apparently, going into teaching would be 'a waste of such a great education' —cue the eye-roll. Having become accustomed to my mother being largely disinterested in me in favour of helicopter parenting Jasper, I’m not enjoying the sudden turn of her attention.
Cee pads around to face me, nuzzling his snout into the fur of my neck. I take in a deep inhale, letting his scent fill my senses. Calm washes over me, and his presence settles the agitated mood I’ve been in for most of the day.
Feeling more myself all of a sudden, I lick his face playfully in lieu of being able to kiss him. His eyes pin me with a look that suggests he’s less than impressed. He leans back on his haunches before leaping at me, knocking me to the ground and pinning me there. His tongue assaults my face, licking and slobbering all over me in retaliation.
We roll around on the ground for a while, play fighting. I love seeing this side of Cee. Sometimes, when we're in our wolf forms, we feel like the purest version of ourselves.
Once we’re both panting for breath, Cee pads over to a nearby tree and curls up underneath it. I follow suit, and by unspoken agreement, we take a nap, enjoying the warmth of our furry bodies wrapped around each other.
When I wake up a short while later, Cee still snores softly, his large head resting on my shoulder. I shift back and try to extricate myself carefully. My skin breaks out in goosebumps at the sudden cold temperature, and I walk quickly to where we left our clothes when we got here.
After I’ve tugged on my jeans, I take Cee his shorts. One of his big green eyes peaks open, side-eyeing me when I shake his shoulder gently to wake him. His dark fur is soft and warm under my hand but is suddenly replaced by skin as he shifts back. I reach out and attempt to tame where his shaggy dark hair is in disarray.
“Your shorts,” I say, holding them out. With a grunt, he pulls them on, still looking cosy and dazed from his nap. He thunks his head against my bare chest and takes a deep inhale, sighing contentedly.
“Hey, Fee,” he mumbles into me.
Cupping his face with my palms, I tip his head back and kiss his pillowy lips softly. He lets out a dainty whimpering sound that makes me melt into a puddle of goo.
I regret not bringing a hoodie because the tree bark is digging into me uncomfortably where my back leans against it. Still, mild discomfort is a small price to pay with Cee sitting between my legs, his head resting on my chest.
We’ve both been quiet tonight, but it’s not awkward. Sometimes, having company while I process my thoughts is comforting. He’s been playing with the fingers on my left hand for the past ten minutes and using his fingertips to make swirling patterns on my palm, making me a little ticklish.
“So… I was thinkin’,” he says quietly, interrupting the silence. “What if somethin' came up, and I couldn’t make it here to meet you?”
Confused at first, a seed of worry plants itself in the pit of my stomach. Is he trying to tell me he doesn’t want to come and meet me anymore?
“Ugh, stop.”
“Stop what?” I ask, bewildered.
“Stop overthinkin'. I don’t think I’m gettin' my point across very well.” He huffs, sounding exasperated, but I can’t quite tell if it’s with me or him.
“Okay, why don’t you try to articulate what you mean? And I’ll try not to overthink. Deal?”
“What I meant was, we’ve had a pretty lucky run. What if one of these days, somethin’ comes up, and we can’t make it here on a Sunday night?” He swivels to face me, kneeling between my legs. I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out what he’s attempting to say in his very roundabout way.
I’ve come to learn this is quite typical of Cee. He beats around the bush for a while when he’s nervous or shy before eventually getting to the point. I think I can reasonably guess what he’s aiming for, and I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it sooner.
“Cee?” I ask, smirking at him.
“Yeah?”
“Would you maybe want my phone number?”
“I suppose that’s one solution, yeah.” He huffs.
“Yes, Cee, of course you can have my number; what an excellent idea,” I reply condescendingly.
“In case nobody has ever told you before, you’re very annoyin’ when you look all smug,” he says, looking all cute and scowly.
“I have two brothers. I’m told on a daily basis how annoying my face is, don’t worry about it.” I boop him on the nose to wind him up a bit more. “You’re pretty cute when you’re grumpy with me.”
“I must be cute all the time then because you’re very infuriatin'.” He pouts at me, and I can’t help but kiss him.
The kiss heats up quickly. We’re breathless when we pull apart, and I have to reach into my jeans to readjust myself. He looks down at my crotch, pleased with his efforts.
Cee returns to sitting with his head against my chest while we endeavour to simmer back down. This is easier said than done, though, because his back is providing just enough pressure against my dick to stop my erection from waning. I attempt to think unsexy thoughts. The great Irish potato famine was between 1845 and 1852. WWI started in 1914 and ended in 1918. WWII began in 1939 and ended in 1945. The first wolf shifters to settle in England came over with the Vikings in 739.
My dick finally gets the picture and admits defeat.
Cee keeps fidgeting, which usually indicates that he’s overthinking something.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I hate it when you do that,” he says with a slight chuckle.
“No, you don’t. We’d never discuss anything if I didn’t squeeze it out of you.” I squeeze his body between my legs for emphasis, and he laughs some more.
It probably says a lot about my current state of blue balls that I’m reasonably confident I could get off to the sound of Cee's laughter; it’s deep and unreserved like sunshine bursting through a gap in the clouds. It’s quickly become one of my favourite sounds in the world.
“D’you ever think about sex?” he asks shyly.
“Probably seventy-five percent of my day,” I answer him honestly.
“Great, love that for you.” His voice is laced with sarcasm.
“I’m young and horny. I think about sex a lot. What’s wrong with that?” I laugh, and he mumbles something under his breath. “What was that?”
“For someone who thinks about it a lot, you’ve never tried to have sex with me .”
I spin him to face me. His neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, is a bright shade of pink.
“You didn’t ask me who is starring in all these x-rated sexy thoughts of mine.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, sounding a little less embarrassed.
“For quite a few months, there’s been this one recurring co-star—”
“—Super hot co-star,” he interrupts me, seeming to have regained his momentarily lost confidence.
“My apologies. There’s this one recurring, super hot co-star I can’t keep my mind off.”
“He sounds very intriguing; go on...”
“Well, he’s got jet black hair that refuses to be tamed, bright green eyes I frequently get lost in, the softest skin I've ever touched, and he’s got the sweetest pink lips that I regularly imagine wrapped around my…” I let the end of the sentence hang in the air between us.
“Wrapped around your what?” he asks when I don’t continue, his breaths sounding uneven and his skin flushed.
“The key to holding an audience captive is to always leave them wanting more,” I whisper into his ear.
“Maybe if you told me what those lips were wrapped around, I might do it,” he says into my parted mouth.
Holy shit.
“You might?”
“I might… if you ask me nicely.” He smirks.
Moving quickly, I wrestle him to the ground so he’s laid on his back, and I’m hovering over the top of him, hands on either side of his head.
“Babe, what I wouldn’t give to have those sweet pink lips wrapped around my cock,” I say like I’m reciting terrible poetry. He swallows loudly, and my eyes track where his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches down and pops open the button on my jeans.
“That was a statement, not a question, but I’ll let it slide.” Cee licks his bottom lip as he pulls down my zipper. I’m not sure when I got hard again, but as he reaches into my jeans to palm my erection, I let out a small gasp. I’m not wearing any underwear, so his hand is warm against my naked skin.
I whimper embarrassingly when he removes his hand.
In a flash of movement, Cee catches me off guard, gripping my shoulders and shoving me so he’s on top of me, straddling my thighs. His soft lips pepper my jaw and neck with feather-light kisses. As he works his way lower, he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks before flicking his tongue against the now-hard bud. An involuntary moan slips from between my lips.
“Jesus, your mouth is amazing,” I tell him. His wide eyes, dilated with lust, peer up at me through dark lashes.
Cee tugs on the waistband of my jeans, and I help him pull them off, exposing me to the cool air.
Leaning back on my elbows, I watch in awe as he kisses and licks my inner thighs, grazing his teeth on the soft skin and making me shiver. Ignoring my cock, which is throbbing and leaking beads of precum, he laps gently at my balls. When he takes them into his mouth and sucks, my hips buck off the ground, reflexively seeking more friction.
Putting an end to his teasing, Cee finally sucks on the tip of my cock, tasting me for the first time. He makes an 'mm' sound that vibrates against me, and it takes a herculean effort not to thrust into his mouth.
I briefly wonder if this is his first blowjob, but the thought instantly gets washed away when he lowers his head, taking my entire length into the back of his throat. Definitely not his first time, then. He sucks me down enthusiastically, his saliva making it wet and sloppy but so completely perfect.
“Holy shit, Cee, I don’t think I’m gonna last very long,” I garble.
Swirling his tongue around the tip in a way that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head, he uses his hand to stroke up and down my shaft in a quick rhythm. Cee's grip isn’t quite as firm as I’d do it myself, but my orgasm is gradually building in the base of my spine regardless.
I card my fingers through his hair, tugging gently so he looks up at me.
And that turned out to be a mistake.
The sight of his swollen, rosy lips wrapped around me with those big eyes gazing up in adoration is my undoing. I worry I’m coming embarrassingly fast for a moment, but I realise it really doesn’t matter. Cee makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never experienced before. Like I can show up as I am without expectations.
“Babe, if you don’t pull off, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” I gasp out in warning. Undeterred, he takes me all the way to the root, swallowing and groaning around me. I mutter some expletives as my release shoots down his throat. I’ve never come so hard in my life, and I think I possibly blacked out there for a second. All my nerve endings are on fire, and I can’t tell if I’m tensing all over or entirely boneless.
Cee sits up, wiping saliva and cum that's dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He smiles shyly, and I can’t help but pull him into a searing kiss at the sight of his puffy, pink lips. Tasting myself on his tongue is heady and wakes up some primal part of my brain, declaring he belongs to me now.
“Wow,” I say, completely at a loss for more eloquent words. “Take these off.” I tug on the end of Cee's shorts. He shakes his head, and a deep, crimson blush blooms across his cheekbones. “Why not? I want to taste you too.” Cee covers his face with his hands and mumbles into them. “What?” I ask again, pulling at his wrists and dragging them away from his face.
“Please don’t make me say it.”
“Don’t make you say what? Oh…” It’s then I spot a slightly damp patch on his denim shorts. “Damn, that’s actually a lot hotter than it ought to be.”
“How is that hot?” he asks, still sounding mortified with his hands returning to cover his face.
“You were so into blowing me that you came; that’s hot,” I declare, and I mean it. “Take these off anyway.”
“Ugh, no. What’s the point?” He’s laughing now, at least.
“We’re young, and I can think of some creative ways to get you hard again so I get my turn,” I say, grinning. He shakes his head despairingly, but he takes his shorts off before blanketing my body with his and burying his face into my neck.
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. Not with me; you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Sometimes, during sex, funny things happen, and if we can’t laugh, then we probably shouldn’t be doing it,” I say, stroking a hand down his back.
And because it’s there, and I can, I pinch his bum cheek. I can’t help but laugh as he lets out a tiny squark of indignation.
Something about Cee makes me want to wrap him up like a burrito, hide him away in my room so nobody can go near him and keep him all to myself forever. I wonder briefly if this is what love feels like? Fortunately, I still have just enough good sense to keep the thought to myself.
I’m pretty sure saying 'I love you' right after someone gives you a blow job is a big faux pas.