Finn, mostly.
Finn had also read, going through thrillers nearly as quickly as Jaime read romances. And he’d take an hour or so here and there to run laps around the cabin in his wolf shift, burning energy and assessing their perimeter.
But not now. Now, he was glued to Jaime’s side, their anxiety bouncing off of each other.
In theory, they didn’t have anything to worry about. Bishop was still in the wind, but it had been two days with no sign of him, and with Detective Jones’ continual denial that he had anything to do with Bishop, no one had any more concrete evidence that he knew where Finn and Jaime were.
Still, the not-knowing had changed the dynamic of their stay at the safe house.
On the evening of the fourth day there, Jaime was ready to pull his hair out from the anxiety and tension pouring from them both. Finn was staring at him nearly as much as he was staring out the windows, giving him those big, brown, puppy eyes like he expected Jaime to disappear into thin air.
Unable to stand it any longer, Jaime snapped, “I'm fine. Stop looking at me like I’m going to fall apart at any moment.”
Finn looked down and shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a lot. I didn’t realize how much I was counting on Bishop being locked up and unable to get to you again.”
Guilt washed away Jaime’s irritation. His shoulders dropped, and he padded over to Finn and reached for his hand. “No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I’m just anxious.”
Jaime ran his fingers through his messy hair, lightly pulling. “I hate the waiting. I hate that we are both so tense, and I hateletting him control what I do, again. Over and over I’ve let this monster dictate where I go, and who I can and can’t see, and how I feel. I hate that he’s wormed his way into our lives, again. I’m just tired of it.”
Finn didn’t say anything—there really wasn’t anything he could say. He pulled Jaime close, wrapping him up tightly.
After several long minutes of just holding each other, Jaime stood on his tip-toes to pull Finn’s mouth down to his, the kiss moving from tender and sweet to filthy and hot, teeth clacking.
And then Finn was in his human form again, walking Jaime backwards until he dropped down onto the couch. Following him down, Finn’s voice cracked on a plea. “Jaime, I need?—”
Jaime knew what he needed. “I know. I know. Take it.”
They came together quickly, frantically, all grasping hands and needy kisses and breathy gasps, thrusting hard over clothes pulled aside just enough. The hasty swipe of lube provided enough slick so that the stretch around Finn’s girth simmered low at the base of Jaime’s spine, making him cry out and see stars, his own cock throbbing in pleasure.
Finn was the only thing Jaime knew, after that. His weight on top of him, cradling him tight while he moved deeply inside, swallowing all of Jaime’s gasps and whimpers, words full of hot praise and earnest love—Finn filled Jaime up, and there was no more room inside of him for anything else.
Finn exercised his need to protect, his fear of losing Jaime again in brutal, powerful thrusts, and Jaime took it all. He let the high tide of Finn completely overwhelm him, needing to feel covered, consumed, and held.
He whispered his own promises back to Finn—one for each time that he pounded deep into Jaime—that he would never leave, he was Finn’s, and Finn was his.
Forever. Forever.
Jaime’s words ripped Finn’s orgasm from him, sobbing in pleasure and relief as he spilled deep inside, and fisted Jaime’s cock until he came, too.
Finn was still trembling when the aftershocks finished, pressing kisses and high pitched whines into Jaime’s neck, behind his ear, into his hair. So Jaime wrapped his arms around his love, and held him tight.
Still seated deep inside, neither willing to part just yet, Finn finally spoke. “We’re together now. We’re together, and I’ll never let him rip you away from me again. I won’t allow it. I won’t.”
Jaime placed soothing kisses along Finn’s temple, sensing that the words were meant more for himself.
Jaime driftedout of a fitful sleep the next morning when he felt Finn shift beside him. Pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, Finn whispered, “I’m going to go split more firewood, baby. I’ll be back inside in a few minutes.”
Jaime pressed his face back into the pillow, mumbling about eggs for breakfast.
Finn huffed out a laugh, and tromped down the stairs, shuffling around in the kitchen before he went outside.
Yes, he does always clomp around everywhere he goes.
Jaime smiled into the pillow and drifted off for a little while, allowing himself to wake up slowly. Finn came back inside only a few minutes later, though, shutting the door quietly behind him and softly treading up the stairs.
Smirking, voice still muffled by their bedding, Jaime said, “While I appreciate the effort to be quiet so that I can sleep in, I’m starving. What are you?—”
He rolled over to look up at Finn, but it wasn’t Finn looming over him.
