Chapter Text
Nick crouched down and concentrated on his breathing. After it returned to steady and silent, he stood back up and leaned against the tree, bark rough under his palm. He stretched one calf with a toe point and then a twist, then the other. He waited.
He’d never catch up to Charlie if he slipped by. He knew that. He had one shot at this game.
He heard him.
Crunching through a patch of leaves not far away. Coming fast.
Nick rose up on his toes and bent his knees, hands coming up in front of him. Going mostly by sound in the dim, he shifted quietly to one side, closer to the obscured track below him.
Suddenly he planted his feet, locked his hips and shot out one arm. His hand hooked into Charlie’s side as they impacted, waist into waiting elbow, and he lifted him into the air. As quickly as he could, his other arm wrapped around the flailing man and he reached up to cover the wide, breathless mouth with one hand. He drew the curly head to his face and he leaned in to brush that shell of an ear with his lips.
“Gotchu.”
The body in his arms sagged and he heard a muffled whimper. His heartbeat stuttered at that, on its journey back towards normal from the burst of adrenaline it had just experienced.
Charlie was trembling against his torso, feet pulling up, and Nick hefted him high enough to shift into a bridal carry, the dark head falling back and the pale neck elongating in a way that made Nick growl as he ducked down and then snapped at it. He was gifted a gasp and he straightened up with a fierce grin on his face.
As he stalked through the woods, he cycled through a tight grip that brought the pale flesh close enough to rub and a loose grip that stretched his back. His strength lasted long enough to reach their campsite. A small battery lantern illuminated the inside of their canvas tent. Nick paused.
“I won. Do you agree?” Charlie nodded silently. “What colour for me claiming my prize?”
“Green,” came low and ragged. Nick set Charlie’s feet down and let him go with a quick squeeze on the back of his neck. A ripple passed down the slender frame. Nick toed off his shoes just outside the flap and unzipped it, waving at Charlie to remove his trainers. As soon as he had, one broad hand was back at the base of his skull, fingertips tightly bent inward.
A gentle pressure and Charlie was bending, floating to his knees on the foam pads and sleeping bags laid out inside. Nick’s hand had fallen away from him, allowing him to control his own descent, and it now dropped to shove at his hips. Charlie fell to one side, head landing on a pillow, face down.
Nick entered in a crouch, turned and zipped the flap back up. He pivoted onto his knees and threw one leg over Charlie’s thighs, ending up boxing his prone body in completely. He let his hands land on the narrow waist and he pushed up the sleeveless running top, bending over and grazing his nose along the band of Charlie’s black jock strap.
The body below him quivered and mewled in the most beautiful way. Nick was increasingly aware of the direction his blood was flowing.
He began to nip at the skin under him, hands on the flanks, pushing and pushing at that top until it was bunched at the back of Charlie’s head and tilting his face down towards his own chest. The shaky breathing was amplified now and Nick’s body responded, twitching.
He started to draw his hands back down and let the fingernails drag at the skin. As he did so, he rested his forehead on the small of Charlie’s back and took in the smell of him, subtly at first and then with lusty exhales as his scratching elicited small cries and moans.
As his fingertips curled around the waistband, he suddenly lunged forward and pressed his top teeth into the muscle just under where the top was still pushing on Charlie’s head, where the neck met the shoulder. Charlie’s startled exclamation caught in his throat as Nick froze there, exerting no pressure yet, waiting.
The dark curls trembled, the graceful throat swallowed. “Gruh…,” he gasped, “greeeeeen! Bite me! Oh my god!” Nick chuckled deep in his belly and closed his jaw slowly and methodically. His tongue danced on the bulge of flesh in his mouth. He eased up just enough to slide his teeth down further into Charlie’s back, drawing the most delicious noises out of his lover.
His quarry. His trophy.
Lifting his head and bowing his back, Nick felt all the air in his lungs push into the roof of his mouth and rip out of him all at once. It wasn’t a cartoon howl; it was raw, it was proud, it was possessive, it was real.