Fic: Lives Are For Living. (29/40)
Mar. 9th, 2014 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTitle Lives Are For Living. (29/40)
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4400 (Total posted 79,000 /100,000)
Rating This part adult (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
Things had been odd since finding out about Tom being a werewolf. Not a bad odd admittedly, just odd in the fact that it had seemed to have changed almost nothing between them. Part of Andy couldn't believe he'd been so easily accepting of something so bloody weird, another part said it was because he'd seen seen enough bad things and people to know that Tom was good.
While yet another told him in quiet moments when he'd not found anything else to distract himself with that it was because he was such a pathetic failure he'd hang onto whoever was desperate enough to want him in their life. A normal, sane person would have run. That was the one that he didn't want to think about, because it was the one that would get under your skin and eat away at you until there was nothing left but doubts held together with sharp wires of fear.
Andy splashed water on his face and then wiped away the last traces of shaving foam. He wasn't going to let those kind of thoughts in today, and not any day if he could help it – there really was nothing to be gained by having an argument with yourself that there was no way you could win. No, Andy told himself, he wasn't going to think about it, he was going to get ready and then go out with Tom for his birthday.
It had been a good day so far, apart from the fact that David and his Mum had failed to send him even a card, shaping up to be an even better one. Simon and family had sent him gift vouchers and James had finally got in contact, congratulated him on his new relationship and promised to call in with something when he next had shore leave. There had been a card from Gwen and Rhys as well, and even one from his Great Aunt Edith, with a short letter in spidery handwriting that was mostly about how she was getting on down at the retirement home on the coast.
The biggest surprise had come from Tom, who had in addition getting a couple of things Andy had been looking at online for a while, had booked them a meal in a restaurant in Rhayader. The fact that it wasn't really Tom's thing, he'd always said anywhere more fancy than a cafe made him feel out of place, made it all the more special that he'd do it for him.
Tom had been trying so hard since that terrible night when he'd changed, like he felt the need to apologise for being who he was, and no amount of telling him that it wasn't necessary seem to help. It was Andy thought, as he went into the bedroom to finish getting changed, probably impossible for anybody to be annoyed by Tom for any length of time about anything. Perhaps that wasn't exactly true. If Tom had been alright after he'd changed then maybe he'd have been angrier about it all. But Tom hadn't, he'd been so sick that it had scared him. The fear that maybe there was something terribly wrong, that Tom would just give up because he thought he was worthless and not even try to get better, had frightened him far worse than anything Tom might change into.
Those days had given him time to think, to run though what he was going to say to Tom once he was well. The fact that Tom had, as soon as he was able, chosen to tell him just about everything in his past, even when it was upsetting or an obviously painful memory, sparing him nothing had helped as well.
Pausing a moment, shirt still only half buttoned, Andy looked through the gap where he'd not quite closed the bedroom door. Tom was sitting on the sofa, in the living room watching the TV and eating crisps, apparently happy to be watching some old comedy rerun from the eighties.
It was odd to think that these shows that he just about remembered seeing when they were first on were actually older than Tom, even if it was only by a couple of years. That was one of the other reasons, Andy thought, a sad smile on his face, why it had been easier to forgive him.
Tom had lived through more heartache than anyone should, especially at just twenty two. Orphaned, turned into a werewolf and raised in isolation to be vampire hunter by the man who'd killed his parent. Who had then who'd lied to Tom for most of his life training him to be a weapon for his own person campaign of vengeance against vampires, and denying him anything like a normal childhood in the process.
On top of that Tom had lost just about everybody he'd ever cared about in the space of little more than a year. He'd seen many of them killed in front of him, he'd had to bury them, more than once even having to dig the grave by himself, and then carry on, unable to ask for help for the most part because if anybody found out what he was it could have easily ended in his own death. How Tom had come out the other side of all that the funny, caring, generous sweet guy that he was Andy had no idea. He was just eternally grateful that he had.
After a moment Tom seemed to sense he was being watched and turned to look at Andy. “Are you ready yet? Only we don't want to miss the bus.”
“Nearly done,” Andy replied. Getting the bus into Rhayader had been Tom's idea as well. That way they could both have a drink with their meal. It did mean walking down to the end of the track to get one of the three buses a day that actually went through Elan Village and a taxi back to the same point at the end of the evening as the last bus for Elan left Rhayader at an impractical five fifteen in the evening.
It was a bright, sunny early spring evening as they left the house, walking down the track that lead to the main road and eventually Elan Village and the bus stop. The track was rutted in places from having driven over in the landrover while it had been wet, and Andy wondered if they'd ever get it resurfaced into something usable by the average car. The plan of opening the farm up as a campsite had slipped somewhat, and opening that year seemed increasingly unlikely with each passing week that he didn't sort out the issue of access. Deep inside Andy guessed the reason was he didn't actually care, they could manage just as they were, and maybe it was better if they didn't have other people around - he could hardly close the campsite every full moon.
He looked over at Tom walking along beside him and smiled. Getting him to replace his tatty old coat had been a non-starter and it looked even more scruffy over the new shirt he was wearing. It didn't matter, just having Tom back to his usual happy, energetic self was all that he needed.
Tom had been subdued to a couple of weeks after afterwards his dreadful change in the coal cellar, lingering guilt and the after effects of the flu leaving him tired and dejected. Finally though as the the January snows melted and as February's slightly longer, if still very damp, nights drew out Tom had started to get back to old self.
The February change had worried Andy, and he'd been all for kitting out the cellar into somewhere Tom could change safely every full moon. But Tom had insisted that the wolf needed to run free or it would start to feel caged and he'd feel restless. So in the afternoon Tom had gone out with a chicken on a string to lay a scent trail, telling him that this was the preferred method. Then he'd come back, they had dinner together and then he'd gone out to change. He'd returned just after dawn the following morning, rather grubby and muddy but otherwise well and in a good mood.
It was a manageable routine. Okay, he'd not slept well or in fact much at all that night. Fears that Tom would get hurt or slip and fall into the deep, cold waters of the reservoirs or that the weather would get suddenly worse over night and he’d end up with hypothermia. Rationally he knew Tom had done this dozens of times before and knew exactly what he was doing. However, at two o’clock in the morning when you’re listening to your boyfriend who is also a werewolf howl at the moon, rational was in short supply.
“You're worrying about something, ain't you?” Tom said, stopping. “I know that face.”
“I was just thinking,” Andy replied, stopping as well. “About a lot of things really, the farm and getting things done mostly." He booted a small pebble from one of the ruts. "The road isn't going to be easy to fix, so maybe we should wait until next year before opening the place up."
"You ain't doing this because of me then?" Tom asked, looking doubtful.
"Maybe a bit," Andy admitted, suspecting that Tom would prefer honesty. "but mostly it's cost. And the bit that is about you is really mostly me fussing about things that aren't going to happen."
"So you are worrying," Tom said sounding like he wasn't sure what Andy was talking about. "You shouldn't be, it's your birthday. You're 'sposed to be happy."
"I am happy," Andy replied, hoping it wasn’t going to end up being one of those conversation that went round in circles with both of them getting more and more frustrated. Admittedly they’d not had many of them, for which Andy was glad, and their lives remained mostly argument free. “I just think too much sometimes.”
Tom was quiet for a moment and then said, “Do you want me to talk about something so you’re not thinking? I mean you might still be thinking, but it’d be about something else, so it might be better.” He frowned. “I ain’t sure that made as much sense as I hoped it would, but you do know what I mean, right?”
“I know and thank you,” Andy replied, not sure if he really did need the distraction or not. Even if he didn’t he decided hearing what Tom wanted to talk about wasn’t a bad thing.
Listening to Tom talk about helping out with a few odd jobs for people from the village, like mowing the lawn for the old couple who lived across from the pub or fixing a fence for the woman with three kids who’d recently moved the village to be near her family, Andy smiled.
0X0X0X0
The restaurant had been nice in a not too posh kind of way, catering mostly it seemed to tourists who wanted something that looked traditional, but which served something other than the standard pub fare of pie and chips. All in all, Andy thought as he sat in the taxi as they made their way back home, it had been a very good evening.
There had been a brief moment of panic as Tom, who'd seen that nobody had commented about the man and woman three tables over kissing, had leant across and kissed him just as the waitress came over to them. She'd looked slightly embarrassed, but had just asked politely whether they were ready to order dessert yet.
Leaning back in the seat he smiled. The rest of the evening had been good as well. Just talking, eating and perhaps just enough wine there was still a slight warm, fuzzy feeling to everything. He rubbed a hand over Tom's short cropped hair. That was warm and fuzzy too, and he smiled again, not caring if the taxi driver saw and thought he looked like an idiot.
“Can yer stop along here?” Tom said as they approached the track up to the farm.
“Here? Are you sure?” the taxi driver said, looking at the muddy track leading into the hills, the only indication that it lead anywhere at all being a postbox that has been fastened to a tree by the side of the road.
“Yeah,” Tom said, fumbling slightly with his seatbelt. “We live on a farm up there. Well it’s not really a farm as we ain’t got no cows or sheep, so I ‘spose it’s more like a cottage. Anyway, you'll get yer car stuck if you try drivin' it up there. So I were just tryin’ to saw you the trouble.”
The look on the taxi drivers face was, Andy thought, priceless, and he had to pretend to cough to cover a laugh.
“Takes all sorts I 'spose.” The driver said as he shrugged and check the meter. “Well that'll be nine pound fifty.”
“He were a bit odd, weren’t he?” Tom said once they’d paid and the taxi had started to move away. “Do you reckon he didn’t like it that we weren’t proper farmers?”
It took Andy a moment to answer, not certain he could explain the idea of cottaging to Tom without ending up laughing - he didn’t want Tom to think he was laughing at his lack of knowledge, when the amusement was only at the cross purposes that he’d been at with the taxi driver. In the end Andy said, “I think he thought we were the kind of people who hook up in out of the way places just for the weekend to have sex.”
“Oh.” Tom looked back at where the taxi had just driven out of sight. “I should have probably told him we weren't like that, that it ain’t only weekends”
“It doesn't matter,” Andy said, not able to hide a laugh now. Knowing that Tom was blushing, he put an arm around him, pulling him in for a kiss. "I’ve decided not to care what anyone thinks as long as I've got you. Now come on, let's get home."
After they had been walking for a few minutes and he'd had only narrowly avoided stepping in his third puddle of the night, Andy said, “We should have brought a torch.”
“It ain't that dark,” Tom said a short way ahead of him. Stopping, he tilted his head slightly like he was waiting or listening for something.
“Is something wrong?” Andy asked joining him, looking around into the dark wood land on one side of them and down to the moonlit fields on the other, where the valley opened out before them.
“Nah, it's just a nice night, is all.” Tom sniffed the air then took a deep breath. “There's so much out there what with spring just starting and all that.”
Andy listened for a moment then said, “I don't hear anything or smell anything. Well I suppose there's a sort of wet wood smell.”
“It's 'cause the full moon is only a couple of nights away. It means I can taste and hear and smell things more. Can see a bit better in the dark an' all.” Tom nodded towards where the wooded slope steepened and trees thinned to be replaced by scrubby bushes. “There's a fox up there, after rabbits I reckon.”
“Wow.” Andy looked around him, the world seeming dark and still to him. It was a little disappointing really to know that there was so much out there that he was missing out on. “I had no idea.”
Tom shrugged. “It's just listening and stuff,” he added rather self-consciously. “I can't always do it. It's just....well you know.” He looked up at the moon. “Sorry I'm being weird.”
Making Tom feel bad about it had been just about as far from Andy's intentions as it was possible to get. “Hey, don't apologise for who you are.” He stroked his hand lightly down the side of Tom's face, getting him to look at him rather than the moon. "And you're not weird, you're one of a kind." Before Tom could claim that he was and take the conversation down a route that might end up spoiling an otherwise great evening, Andy kissed him full on the lips.
Tom's response, to return the kiss enthusiastically, hands low on Andy's back, pulling them together and half hard already, made Andy wonder about the rest of Tom's senses. If some of them were improved just before the full moon what about the rest of them? Wondering whether he was doing the right thing, but wanting him to know he was going to accept this part of him, he asked, “Do you feel more too?”
“I dunno, never really thought about it.” Tom breathed in deeply at the base of Andy's neck, then licked at the hollow of this throat. “Probably wouldn't hurt to find out.”
Having Tom lick his neck probably shouldn't have been anywhere as hot at felt at that moment, but Andy really didn't care. Tilting his head back, Andy closed his eyes and said mostly to himself, “I should have waiting until we were nearer home.”
“What? Home?” Tom said almost comically disappointed. “We're waiting until we get back to the house?”
“You thought I meant here?” Andy said, unable to cover his surprise.
“Why not? There ain't nobody else out here but us,” Tom said, moving back just enough so he could unzip his coat. “This is our land and it ain't far off midnight. We can do what we want.”
Tom was right, the chances of anybody else being out there was remote, but being outside, exposed did still have a thrill of the forbidden about it. "Alright," Andy said, letting himself get caught up in the in the moment, his hands finding their way inside Tom's clothes. Bending close to his ear, he said, “Oh Tom, the things you make me want to do.”
“If it's any help I want you to do them to me, whatever they are,” Tom said, fingers fumbling at Andy's belt. “Doing them really soon would be good an' all.”
The night air was cool rather than cold, although Andy knew that they'd probably wouldn't care about it soon enough. The cold never seemed to bother Tom much anyway, and he'd already stripped off his coat and shirt while he was still wondering if he should leave jacket on.
"What do you want me to do?" Andy asked, fingers sliding under the waist of his boxer shorts,
"Mouth," Tom breathed, pushing against his hand, half hard already. "Use your mouth."
The mud would wash out, Andy thought as he knelt down in front of Tom, his knees pressing into the damp, leaf covered ground. He'd never tire of this, of how Tom never held anything back, giving himself entirely over to sensation and to what he was doing.
Good sex was messy, he'd read or heard that somewhere, and it was certainly true of blow jobs, Andy thought. There really wasn't a way to do them that looked or sounded pretty, but that didn't matter, it was the intimacy of it, of feeling the other person slowly or sometimes no so slowly come apart and knowing that you're doing that to them. There was trust as well, there weren't really any situations other than sex when you be willing to have teeth so close to such a sensitive part of the anatomy.
Resting one hand against Tom's hip, Andy stoked the other up the inside of his thigh, fingers slick with spit teasing the soft, sensitive skin behind his balls, before moving further back.
“Will yer stop teasing me and do it already?” Tom said frustrated, when Andy hadn't moved to do more.
Andy hummed and pressed his finger inside, feeling Tom hot and tight around it. They might have done this before, but the sounds Tom made, noises that were pure sex and need, never failed to send coils of lust and need twisting through him.
A second finger eventually joined the first, as Tom panted and begged for more, seeming unable to decided whether to push forwards or back. He was close, Andy was sure.
“Stop,” Tom said, breathless, his hand clutching at Andy's shoulder. “Stop a minute.”
Startled, Andy pulled back and looked up. “What's wrong? Is it too much?” He glanced round into the dark, still night. “There's not anyone out there, is there?”
“No. It's just I want you to...” Tom stopped, embarrassed and stumbling over the words. “I want you...there. Not only fingers, I mean they're really nice, but I want you. Like we do when I do it.”
It was unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, Andy just wished that Tom had picked a time when they could have relaxed in bed and taken plenty of time about it. "Are you sure? I've not got anything much with me,” Andy said, checking his pockets and then his wallet, and finding just a single condom.
“What else do we need? Really, I mean?” Tom said, almost pleading now. “'cause I really, really want this. I've been thinking about this for a while, and I really want to try."
“You weren't that sure the time when we tried three fingers,” Andy said doubtfully. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“But that's 'cause you've got really big hands. Not saying you're small down there like, but three's probably wider,” Tom said, kissing him again eagerly, as he trying to unzip Andy's trousers. “Can we at least try? Please?"
Eager, earnest and horny, what a combination, Andy thought, knowing that he really wasn't much better. “Alright, but tell me if it's too much.”
This would be so much easier, Andy thought, if either I were shorter or Tom were taller, as they tried to find a standing position that wasn't either awkward or likely to end up with one or both of them falling over. The sloping ground against the wall at the side of the track was probably the best option, although he'd have to be careful not to push Tom too hard against the rough stonework.
Even with the pre-lubed condom and there was still a little more friction that he would have liked, but the fact that Tom was relaxed already, had fingers up there and that he was ridiculously horny helped immensely. Andy knew Tom probably wouldn't have minded if he had been rougher about it - he didn't seem to acknowledge discomfort most of the time. Whether that was because of the wolf or if it had been something expected of him growing up, Andy didn't know, and it wasn't the time to be wondering about it, Andy told himself. Leaning forwards he kissed the back of Tom's neck, feeling him shudder beneath him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it's....” Tom let out a slow breath. “Good, a bit weird, but good. So could you start doing stuff? Like moving and that? 'cause I really need you to do something."
Andy rolled his hips slightly, not wanting to take it too fast. "Like this?"
"Yeah, that'd be it," he replied, voice less than steady.
It didn't take long to find a rhythm, Tom pushing back, breathing rough and desperate as he pleaded for more and faster and harder. Next time, Andy thought, trying to maintain his footing on the uneven ground, they were doing this in a bed, where they could find a position that was easier on his back and thighs.
Andy could see the scars that ran down Tom's shoulder, the raised skin silvery in the moonlight. Hoping that Tom wouldn't find it too odd, he kissed one of them. When there wasn't much of a reaction, he kissed the side of Tom's neck, just below his ear. Then, aware that Tom seemed to want think just a little bit rougher, he let his teeth brush against back of his neck.
The effect was electric, Tom bucked under him, nearly tripping them both. "Shouldn't feel right," Tom moaned, grinding back against him, hands seeking purchase against the low stone wall. "Don't stop. I need...I need..."
Tom's breath caught, his body going rigid for a moment, then he began to shudder and Andy felt wet warmth pulsing out over his fingers. Resting his head against Tom's shoulder, Andy felt sweat bead on his forehead as he held back. He wanted to remember this, every second of this night, every sight and sound and scent, every tense of muscles and shiver of pleasure as Tom trembled and shook through what felt to him like a very satisfying climax.
"Have you...?" Tom asked, breathless as the aftershocks slowly started to fade away.
"No," Andy replied, voice strained with the effort of keeping still.
"Did I do it wrong?" Tom asked, sounding concerned that Andy might not be enjoying it. He tensed his muscles and then rocked his hips back. “Should I start moving again?”
After holding back for so long it was too much. The feeling of something molten pooling low in his body suddenly overflowed, sparking up his spine and Andy gasped. Gripping Tom's hips as he surged forwards, unable to do but cling to him as he came.
How he was still on his feet he had no idea, Andy thought as he slowly came back down. There was nothing around them but the sound of their breathing and the scent of sweat and sex, and the cool night air drifting against their heated bodies.
Andy stroked a hand down Tom's side, reluctantly pulling out and feeling colder as he did. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much at the end, was it?"
"Course it weren't, it were good..." Tom shook his head, turning so that he faced Andy. "No, it weren't just good, it were great.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and then added, “But next time maybe we could try a bed. Not as far to go to sleep then.”
“Practical and sexy,” Andy said with a laugh. “Is it any wonder I love you?” Wrapping his arms about him, he kissed Tom slow and sure. Closing his eyes, he smiled. This really had been the best birthday ever.
Part 30 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/229208.html
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4400 (Total posted 79,000 /100,000)
Rating This part adult (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
Things had been odd since finding out about Tom being a werewolf. Not a bad odd admittedly, just odd in the fact that it had seemed to have changed almost nothing between them. Part of Andy couldn't believe he'd been so easily accepting of something so bloody weird, another part said it was because he'd seen seen enough bad things and people to know that Tom was good.
While yet another told him in quiet moments when he'd not found anything else to distract himself with that it was because he was such a pathetic failure he'd hang onto whoever was desperate enough to want him in their life. A normal, sane person would have run. That was the one that he didn't want to think about, because it was the one that would get under your skin and eat away at you until there was nothing left but doubts held together with sharp wires of fear.
Andy splashed water on his face and then wiped away the last traces of shaving foam. He wasn't going to let those kind of thoughts in today, and not any day if he could help it – there really was nothing to be gained by having an argument with yourself that there was no way you could win. No, Andy told himself, he wasn't going to think about it, he was going to get ready and then go out with Tom for his birthday.
It had been a good day so far, apart from the fact that David and his Mum had failed to send him even a card, shaping up to be an even better one. Simon and family had sent him gift vouchers and James had finally got in contact, congratulated him on his new relationship and promised to call in with something when he next had shore leave. There had been a card from Gwen and Rhys as well, and even one from his Great Aunt Edith, with a short letter in spidery handwriting that was mostly about how she was getting on down at the retirement home on the coast.
The biggest surprise had come from Tom, who had in addition getting a couple of things Andy had been looking at online for a while, had booked them a meal in a restaurant in Rhayader. The fact that it wasn't really Tom's thing, he'd always said anywhere more fancy than a cafe made him feel out of place, made it all the more special that he'd do it for him.
Tom had been trying so hard since that terrible night when he'd changed, like he felt the need to apologise for being who he was, and no amount of telling him that it wasn't necessary seem to help. It was Andy thought, as he went into the bedroom to finish getting changed, probably impossible for anybody to be annoyed by Tom for any length of time about anything. Perhaps that wasn't exactly true. If Tom had been alright after he'd changed then maybe he'd have been angrier about it all. But Tom hadn't, he'd been so sick that it had scared him. The fear that maybe there was something terribly wrong, that Tom would just give up because he thought he was worthless and not even try to get better, had frightened him far worse than anything Tom might change into.
Those days had given him time to think, to run though what he was going to say to Tom once he was well. The fact that Tom had, as soon as he was able, chosen to tell him just about everything in his past, even when it was upsetting or an obviously painful memory, sparing him nothing had helped as well.
Pausing a moment, shirt still only half buttoned, Andy looked through the gap where he'd not quite closed the bedroom door. Tom was sitting on the sofa, in the living room watching the TV and eating crisps, apparently happy to be watching some old comedy rerun from the eighties.
It was odd to think that these shows that he just about remembered seeing when they were first on were actually older than Tom, even if it was only by a couple of years. That was one of the other reasons, Andy thought, a sad smile on his face, why it had been easier to forgive him.
Tom had lived through more heartache than anyone should, especially at just twenty two. Orphaned, turned into a werewolf and raised in isolation to be vampire hunter by the man who'd killed his parent. Who had then who'd lied to Tom for most of his life training him to be a weapon for his own person campaign of vengeance against vampires, and denying him anything like a normal childhood in the process.
On top of that Tom had lost just about everybody he'd ever cared about in the space of little more than a year. He'd seen many of them killed in front of him, he'd had to bury them, more than once even having to dig the grave by himself, and then carry on, unable to ask for help for the most part because if anybody found out what he was it could have easily ended in his own death. How Tom had come out the other side of all that the funny, caring, generous sweet guy that he was Andy had no idea. He was just eternally grateful that he had.
After a moment Tom seemed to sense he was being watched and turned to look at Andy. “Are you ready yet? Only we don't want to miss the bus.”
“Nearly done,” Andy replied. Getting the bus into Rhayader had been Tom's idea as well. That way they could both have a drink with their meal. It did mean walking down to the end of the track to get one of the three buses a day that actually went through Elan Village and a taxi back to the same point at the end of the evening as the last bus for Elan left Rhayader at an impractical five fifteen in the evening.
It was a bright, sunny early spring evening as they left the house, walking down the track that lead to the main road and eventually Elan Village and the bus stop. The track was rutted in places from having driven over in the landrover while it had been wet, and Andy wondered if they'd ever get it resurfaced into something usable by the average car. The plan of opening the farm up as a campsite had slipped somewhat, and opening that year seemed increasingly unlikely with each passing week that he didn't sort out the issue of access. Deep inside Andy guessed the reason was he didn't actually care, they could manage just as they were, and maybe it was better if they didn't have other people around - he could hardly close the campsite every full moon.
He looked over at Tom walking along beside him and smiled. Getting him to replace his tatty old coat had been a non-starter and it looked even more scruffy over the new shirt he was wearing. It didn't matter, just having Tom back to his usual happy, energetic self was all that he needed.
Tom had been subdued to a couple of weeks after afterwards his dreadful change in the coal cellar, lingering guilt and the after effects of the flu leaving him tired and dejected. Finally though as the the January snows melted and as February's slightly longer, if still very damp, nights drew out Tom had started to get back to old self.
The February change had worried Andy, and he'd been all for kitting out the cellar into somewhere Tom could change safely every full moon. But Tom had insisted that the wolf needed to run free or it would start to feel caged and he'd feel restless. So in the afternoon Tom had gone out with a chicken on a string to lay a scent trail, telling him that this was the preferred method. Then he'd come back, they had dinner together and then he'd gone out to change. He'd returned just after dawn the following morning, rather grubby and muddy but otherwise well and in a good mood.
It was a manageable routine. Okay, he'd not slept well or in fact much at all that night. Fears that Tom would get hurt or slip and fall into the deep, cold waters of the reservoirs or that the weather would get suddenly worse over night and he’d end up with hypothermia. Rationally he knew Tom had done this dozens of times before and knew exactly what he was doing. However, at two o’clock in the morning when you’re listening to your boyfriend who is also a werewolf howl at the moon, rational was in short supply.
“You're worrying about something, ain't you?” Tom said, stopping. “I know that face.”
“I was just thinking,” Andy replied, stopping as well. “About a lot of things really, the farm and getting things done mostly." He booted a small pebble from one of the ruts. "The road isn't going to be easy to fix, so maybe we should wait until next year before opening the place up."
"You ain't doing this because of me then?" Tom asked, looking doubtful.
"Maybe a bit," Andy admitted, suspecting that Tom would prefer honesty. "but mostly it's cost. And the bit that is about you is really mostly me fussing about things that aren't going to happen."
"So you are worrying," Tom said sounding like he wasn't sure what Andy was talking about. "You shouldn't be, it's your birthday. You're 'sposed to be happy."
"I am happy," Andy replied, hoping it wasn’t going to end up being one of those conversation that went round in circles with both of them getting more and more frustrated. Admittedly they’d not had many of them, for which Andy was glad, and their lives remained mostly argument free. “I just think too much sometimes.”
Tom was quiet for a moment and then said, “Do you want me to talk about something so you’re not thinking? I mean you might still be thinking, but it’d be about something else, so it might be better.” He frowned. “I ain’t sure that made as much sense as I hoped it would, but you do know what I mean, right?”
“I know and thank you,” Andy replied, not sure if he really did need the distraction or not. Even if he didn’t he decided hearing what Tom wanted to talk about wasn’t a bad thing.
Listening to Tom talk about helping out with a few odd jobs for people from the village, like mowing the lawn for the old couple who lived across from the pub or fixing a fence for the woman with three kids who’d recently moved the village to be near her family, Andy smiled.
0X0X0X0
The restaurant had been nice in a not too posh kind of way, catering mostly it seemed to tourists who wanted something that looked traditional, but which served something other than the standard pub fare of pie and chips. All in all, Andy thought as he sat in the taxi as they made their way back home, it had been a very good evening.
There had been a brief moment of panic as Tom, who'd seen that nobody had commented about the man and woman three tables over kissing, had leant across and kissed him just as the waitress came over to them. She'd looked slightly embarrassed, but had just asked politely whether they were ready to order dessert yet.
Leaning back in the seat he smiled. The rest of the evening had been good as well. Just talking, eating and perhaps just enough wine there was still a slight warm, fuzzy feeling to everything. He rubbed a hand over Tom's short cropped hair. That was warm and fuzzy too, and he smiled again, not caring if the taxi driver saw and thought he looked like an idiot.
“Can yer stop along here?” Tom said as they approached the track up to the farm.
“Here? Are you sure?” the taxi driver said, looking at the muddy track leading into the hills, the only indication that it lead anywhere at all being a postbox that has been fastened to a tree by the side of the road.
“Yeah,” Tom said, fumbling slightly with his seatbelt. “We live on a farm up there. Well it’s not really a farm as we ain’t got no cows or sheep, so I ‘spose it’s more like a cottage. Anyway, you'll get yer car stuck if you try drivin' it up there. So I were just tryin’ to saw you the trouble.”
The look on the taxi drivers face was, Andy thought, priceless, and he had to pretend to cough to cover a laugh.
“Takes all sorts I 'spose.” The driver said as he shrugged and check the meter. “Well that'll be nine pound fifty.”
“He were a bit odd, weren’t he?” Tom said once they’d paid and the taxi had started to move away. “Do you reckon he didn’t like it that we weren’t proper farmers?”
It took Andy a moment to answer, not certain he could explain the idea of cottaging to Tom without ending up laughing - he didn’t want Tom to think he was laughing at his lack of knowledge, when the amusement was only at the cross purposes that he’d been at with the taxi driver. In the end Andy said, “I think he thought we were the kind of people who hook up in out of the way places just for the weekend to have sex.”
“Oh.” Tom looked back at where the taxi had just driven out of sight. “I should have probably told him we weren't like that, that it ain’t only weekends”
“It doesn't matter,” Andy said, not able to hide a laugh now. Knowing that Tom was blushing, he put an arm around him, pulling him in for a kiss. "I’ve decided not to care what anyone thinks as long as I've got you. Now come on, let's get home."
After they had been walking for a few minutes and he'd had only narrowly avoided stepping in his third puddle of the night, Andy said, “We should have brought a torch.”
“It ain't that dark,” Tom said a short way ahead of him. Stopping, he tilted his head slightly like he was waiting or listening for something.
“Is something wrong?” Andy asked joining him, looking around into the dark wood land on one side of them and down to the moonlit fields on the other, where the valley opened out before them.
“Nah, it's just a nice night, is all.” Tom sniffed the air then took a deep breath. “There's so much out there what with spring just starting and all that.”
Andy listened for a moment then said, “I don't hear anything or smell anything. Well I suppose there's a sort of wet wood smell.”
“It's 'cause the full moon is only a couple of nights away. It means I can taste and hear and smell things more. Can see a bit better in the dark an' all.” Tom nodded towards where the wooded slope steepened and trees thinned to be replaced by scrubby bushes. “There's a fox up there, after rabbits I reckon.”
“Wow.” Andy looked around him, the world seeming dark and still to him. It was a little disappointing really to know that there was so much out there that he was missing out on. “I had no idea.”
Tom shrugged. “It's just listening and stuff,” he added rather self-consciously. “I can't always do it. It's just....well you know.” He looked up at the moon. “Sorry I'm being weird.”
Making Tom feel bad about it had been just about as far from Andy's intentions as it was possible to get. “Hey, don't apologise for who you are.” He stroked his hand lightly down the side of Tom's face, getting him to look at him rather than the moon. "And you're not weird, you're one of a kind." Before Tom could claim that he was and take the conversation down a route that might end up spoiling an otherwise great evening, Andy kissed him full on the lips.
Tom's response, to return the kiss enthusiastically, hands low on Andy's back, pulling them together and half hard already, made Andy wonder about the rest of Tom's senses. If some of them were improved just before the full moon what about the rest of them? Wondering whether he was doing the right thing, but wanting him to know he was going to accept this part of him, he asked, “Do you feel more too?”
“I dunno, never really thought about it.” Tom breathed in deeply at the base of Andy's neck, then licked at the hollow of this throat. “Probably wouldn't hurt to find out.”
Having Tom lick his neck probably shouldn't have been anywhere as hot at felt at that moment, but Andy really didn't care. Tilting his head back, Andy closed his eyes and said mostly to himself, “I should have waiting until we were nearer home.”
“What? Home?” Tom said almost comically disappointed. “We're waiting until we get back to the house?”
“You thought I meant here?” Andy said, unable to cover his surprise.
“Why not? There ain't nobody else out here but us,” Tom said, moving back just enough so he could unzip his coat. “This is our land and it ain't far off midnight. We can do what we want.”
Tom was right, the chances of anybody else being out there was remote, but being outside, exposed did still have a thrill of the forbidden about it. "Alright," Andy said, letting himself get caught up in the in the moment, his hands finding their way inside Tom's clothes. Bending close to his ear, he said, “Oh Tom, the things you make me want to do.”
“If it's any help I want you to do them to me, whatever they are,” Tom said, fingers fumbling at Andy's belt. “Doing them really soon would be good an' all.”
The night air was cool rather than cold, although Andy knew that they'd probably wouldn't care about it soon enough. The cold never seemed to bother Tom much anyway, and he'd already stripped off his coat and shirt while he was still wondering if he should leave jacket on.
"What do you want me to do?" Andy asked, fingers sliding under the waist of his boxer shorts,
"Mouth," Tom breathed, pushing against his hand, half hard already. "Use your mouth."
The mud would wash out, Andy thought as he knelt down in front of Tom, his knees pressing into the damp, leaf covered ground. He'd never tire of this, of how Tom never held anything back, giving himself entirely over to sensation and to what he was doing.
Good sex was messy, he'd read or heard that somewhere, and it was certainly true of blow jobs, Andy thought. There really wasn't a way to do them that looked or sounded pretty, but that didn't matter, it was the intimacy of it, of feeling the other person slowly or sometimes no so slowly come apart and knowing that you're doing that to them. There was trust as well, there weren't really any situations other than sex when you be willing to have teeth so close to such a sensitive part of the anatomy.
Resting one hand against Tom's hip, Andy stoked the other up the inside of his thigh, fingers slick with spit teasing the soft, sensitive skin behind his balls, before moving further back.
“Will yer stop teasing me and do it already?” Tom said frustrated, when Andy hadn't moved to do more.
Andy hummed and pressed his finger inside, feeling Tom hot and tight around it. They might have done this before, but the sounds Tom made, noises that were pure sex and need, never failed to send coils of lust and need twisting through him.
A second finger eventually joined the first, as Tom panted and begged for more, seeming unable to decided whether to push forwards or back. He was close, Andy was sure.
“Stop,” Tom said, breathless, his hand clutching at Andy's shoulder. “Stop a minute.”
Startled, Andy pulled back and looked up. “What's wrong? Is it too much?” He glanced round into the dark, still night. “There's not anyone out there, is there?”
“No. It's just I want you to...” Tom stopped, embarrassed and stumbling over the words. “I want you...there. Not only fingers, I mean they're really nice, but I want you. Like we do when I do it.”
It was unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, Andy just wished that Tom had picked a time when they could have relaxed in bed and taken plenty of time about it. "Are you sure? I've not got anything much with me,” Andy said, checking his pockets and then his wallet, and finding just a single condom.
“What else do we need? Really, I mean?” Tom said, almost pleading now. “'cause I really, really want this. I've been thinking about this for a while, and I really want to try."
“You weren't that sure the time when we tried three fingers,” Andy said doubtfully. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“But that's 'cause you've got really big hands. Not saying you're small down there like, but three's probably wider,” Tom said, kissing him again eagerly, as he trying to unzip Andy's trousers. “Can we at least try? Please?"
Eager, earnest and horny, what a combination, Andy thought, knowing that he really wasn't much better. “Alright, but tell me if it's too much.”
This would be so much easier, Andy thought, if either I were shorter or Tom were taller, as they tried to find a standing position that wasn't either awkward or likely to end up with one or both of them falling over. The sloping ground against the wall at the side of the track was probably the best option, although he'd have to be careful not to push Tom too hard against the rough stonework.
Even with the pre-lubed condom and there was still a little more friction that he would have liked, but the fact that Tom was relaxed already, had fingers up there and that he was ridiculously horny helped immensely. Andy knew Tom probably wouldn't have minded if he had been rougher about it - he didn't seem to acknowledge discomfort most of the time. Whether that was because of the wolf or if it had been something expected of him growing up, Andy didn't know, and it wasn't the time to be wondering about it, Andy told himself. Leaning forwards he kissed the back of Tom's neck, feeling him shudder beneath him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it's....” Tom let out a slow breath. “Good, a bit weird, but good. So could you start doing stuff? Like moving and that? 'cause I really need you to do something."
Andy rolled his hips slightly, not wanting to take it too fast. "Like this?"
"Yeah, that'd be it," he replied, voice less than steady.
It didn't take long to find a rhythm, Tom pushing back, breathing rough and desperate as he pleaded for more and faster and harder. Next time, Andy thought, trying to maintain his footing on the uneven ground, they were doing this in a bed, where they could find a position that was easier on his back and thighs.
Andy could see the scars that ran down Tom's shoulder, the raised skin silvery in the moonlight. Hoping that Tom wouldn't find it too odd, he kissed one of them. When there wasn't much of a reaction, he kissed the side of Tom's neck, just below his ear. Then, aware that Tom seemed to want think just a little bit rougher, he let his teeth brush against back of his neck.
The effect was electric, Tom bucked under him, nearly tripping them both. "Shouldn't feel right," Tom moaned, grinding back against him, hands seeking purchase against the low stone wall. "Don't stop. I need...I need..."
Tom's breath caught, his body going rigid for a moment, then he began to shudder and Andy felt wet warmth pulsing out over his fingers. Resting his head against Tom's shoulder, Andy felt sweat bead on his forehead as he held back. He wanted to remember this, every second of this night, every sight and sound and scent, every tense of muscles and shiver of pleasure as Tom trembled and shook through what felt to him like a very satisfying climax.
"Have you...?" Tom asked, breathless as the aftershocks slowly started to fade away.
"No," Andy replied, voice strained with the effort of keeping still.
"Did I do it wrong?" Tom asked, sounding concerned that Andy might not be enjoying it. He tensed his muscles and then rocked his hips back. “Should I start moving again?”
After holding back for so long it was too much. The feeling of something molten pooling low in his body suddenly overflowed, sparking up his spine and Andy gasped. Gripping Tom's hips as he surged forwards, unable to do but cling to him as he came.
How he was still on his feet he had no idea, Andy thought as he slowly came back down. There was nothing around them but the sound of their breathing and the scent of sweat and sex, and the cool night air drifting against their heated bodies.
Andy stroked a hand down Tom's side, reluctantly pulling out and feeling colder as he did. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much at the end, was it?"
"Course it weren't, it were good..." Tom shook his head, turning so that he faced Andy. "No, it weren't just good, it were great.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and then added, “But next time maybe we could try a bed. Not as far to go to sleep then.”
“Practical and sexy,” Andy said with a laugh. “Is it any wonder I love you?” Wrapping his arms about him, he kissed Tom slow and sure. Closing his eyes, he smiled. This really had been the best birthday ever.
Part 30 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/229208.html