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You dwell on the whole Jace situation for the rest of the day. Normally, you don't do the whole dwelling thing, but usually, also, you don't have sudden werewolf threesomes that end with a dramatic revelation of unrequited feelings.

That's not exactly how it went; you're dramatizing. Also, you're not entirely sure the feelings are "unrequited" as such.

Also, every time you sit down or fidget the werewolf threesome part is underlined again.

You spill out of school after the final bell, and halfway to the busses with Shey you look over at the parking lot, waver, and stumble over your own feet. "I'm gonna, uh," you say, gesturing over at Jace's Porche. It's silver and shiny and it was what basically cemented your understanding of him as a rich jock douchebag. "Is that... okay?"

Shey knocks shoulders with you. "Go for it, man," he says, and steps close, breath puffing against your face before he leans in, presses his lips against yours, mouth slowly parting as you go from a light peck to some serious makeouts. When he pulls back you whimper and lean forward, almost knocking yourself over. Your lips are flushed, stinging where he nipped at you, and Shey grins, eyes flashing red in the middle of school, because he has no subtlety.

"When you say 'it'..." you say, trailing off. You're not even sure what you mean by "it". Jace had -- has? -- a crush on you, and then you fucked, and you have literally nowhere to put that information. It's even more disorienting that Shey seems to be totally okay with it.

"Just go talk to him, man," Shey says.

So anyway, you run over to Jace's car.

And, because your life is rapidly approaching being a farce, you get waylaid by two werewolves on the way. It starts to dawn on you that this is going to be your life now. Forever.

They're... you don't even know. On the field hockey team? You've seen them around, but you don't know anything about sports. Currently, their most relevant characteristic is how they're loitering against the wall like cliche delinquents, their eyes gleaming unnaturally -- well, naturally for werewolves -- and have their claws out, absentmindedly scoring lines in the brick.

"Oh my god," you say, as they sniff at the air obviously, grinning at you with too many teeth. "Seriously, does getting turned into a werewolf make everyone think they're a master of theatre here, because--"

"Hey, fuck off," says the one you're thinking of as the Short One, even though he's roughly your height. The other guy is just huge.

Also, you were expecting a snappier comeback, but whatever. "Look, I really don't care, deal with your dumb wolf problems yourself," you say.

"Smells like you've been dealing with a lot of guys' wolf problems!" the guy yells as you blow past them, loudly enough that a few people look over, and if there's ever a line that seems strange out of context it's that. Literally every jock here is a werewolf now, you bet. Everyone has just been taking it really well. That's what you decide.

Anyway, Jace. You consider just sitting on the hood of his car, on account of he's not out there yet, but it occurs to you he'd probably be less than pleased at finding you absentmindedly kicking the shit out of his front bumper, which is a thing that would happen if you sat on the hood.

You're saved from actually having to make a decision -- and from Wolf Tweedledee and Tweedledum from starting something -- by Jace making his entrance, slamming out of a side door next to -- oh, fuck -- Danny.

The thing with Danny, okay, is that he's gay -- you mean, out; as it turns out a lot more guys around here are gay than you realized -- and also intimidatingly hot. Let's talk about his ass. His ass is amazing. It is the best ass you have ever, ever seen. Like, you think food comparisons are kind of gauche and also a little gross, but: his ass reminds you of a caramel apple. You want to bite it. It's pert, but not narrow: wide and heavy with muscle. You think he waxes, or at least, you've never seen a single hair on his ass. It seems like every time you're in the locker room with him Danny is only in his jock, stretching. Once you whimpered out loud watching him bend over. He noticed.

Which brings you to the complication, namely, that he noticed and thinks you're really weird and gross and he hates your guts. Which, you have to admit: not unreasonable. You're frequently gross.

He's also best friends with Jace. You honestly kind of figured that if Jace were gay (which you did not think, at all) that he'd have something going with Danny, because, come on.

They both notice you at the same time: Jace looks worried and tentatively hopeful (that is what you're deciding, at least) and Danny just looks thunderous. And, fuck, you're just going to assume he's a werewolf now too. Everyone you know is a werewolf.

"Heyyyy," you open, weakly, waving.

Danny gets up in your face. "What do you think you're doing, huh?" He looks over at Jace, whose ears are getting all flushed again. "Looking for someone else to harass?"

"Whoa, dude, heel, it's not you I'm after here," you say, which is on reflection basically the exact opposite of anything helpful. Danny looks even more pissed off, and he levels a finger at you like it's a gun, mouth opening to say something no-doubt super cutting.

Jace steps between you, physically pushing you apart. Danny just shifts his feet, but you almost topple over. "Cool it, okay? What do you want, anyway?"

"So, you're giving me a ride home!" you say. Danny looks even more angry. You try a different angle: "Look, I was just hoping we could... talk."

"Fine," Jace says, scowling.

"Wow, okay, don't act like it's a huge chore, I just figured after--" and you cut yourself off before you say "we had a weird werewolf threesome". "-- we should, like, talk about it."

Danny is gaping like a fish, and Jace looks mortified, hand covering his face, blush creeping up his cheeks. "Seriously?!" Danny says. "Him? You said--"

"Fine," Jace repeats, cutting Danny off, which is unfortunate because you really want to hear what, exactly, Jace said.

So you get into his car.

"Wow, that was awful." You've always been great at breaking awkward silences with even more awkward statements. Jace doesn't say anything as he drives out of the student parking. "I mean-- Actually, wait, hold on, is Danny a werewolf now? I need to know this."

"No," Jace says, like you're completely unwarranted in asking that question. He's a werewolf; you don't know what's up with that.

You open your mouth to ask about that, then start over. "So until a few hours ago I thought you hated my guts, man, and I always thought you were kind of an asshole, like that whole dumb football rivalry with Shey--"

"Thanks," Jace says, strained.

"I'm setting the stage. I'm saying, I had no clue you even thought about me aside from that gawky nerd friend of Shey's."

"You're not gawky!" Jace says, like that was the part of the sentence you wanted reassurance about. Thanks.

"It's just like, it'd be one thing if you just wanted to get your rocks off, but like." You look over at Jace, who's concentrating on the traffic and beet fucking red. "Do you want to date?" You try not to say it like, "do you want to date?!" but it kind of comes out that way anyway.

Jace fingers creak on the steering wheel. "That's not really my decision, is it?"

"What? Um, yeah, dude, it is."

"Doesn't Shey have something to say about that?"

Uh. "Dude, we had a threesome! He's okay with it. I mean, he said so, it wasn't just the threesome. And, putting my cards on the table here, I, too, am okay with it, or at least... I don't know, I mean, if you want to give it a try..." You let out an exasperated breath. "Like I don't know shit about relationships, okay, and I'm a huge asshole, but I figure you might be into that, or into me, or whatever."

Silence from the other half of the car. You keep talking. "You know, if someone told me a week ago I'd be trying to figure out, like, a bunch of gay werewolf relationships, I would've said they're completely fucking nuts. This whole situation is just -- I can't believe that this is my life now." The 'werewolf' part only vaguely even enters into it. You should probably asks what's up re: Jace being a werewolf, but honestly you're a little more invested in the dating thing right now. "I mean, did you only make a move because you're a werewolf? Because I'm starting to see a trend here."

"Okay."

"Okay, yes, you only made a move because you're a werewolf? Is this just a weird werewolf thing?"

Jace clenches the steering wheel so hard something cracks. "Everything I do is a werewolf thing, since I'm a werewolf. I meant, okay, we can try dating."

You whip your head over to look at him, sharp enough it stings your neck. "Seriously?!"

"Yes."

"Oh. Um. Cool?"

Jace laughs a little, awkward. You are both so smooth about relationship talk. "Yeah," he says, and takes the next turn.

You watch the scenery. "Wait, this isn't the way to my house."

"Yeah," Jace says.

It's houses on the edge of town, heading up into the preserve. "Oh my god, are you going to murder me? I knew this was too good to last. I've been waiting for the bloodlust."

"I'm not going to murder you." He pauses in a way that strongly implies he's got more to say. "We're going to Lookout Point?" It's tentative. Lookout Point is the big makeout location, though at this hour it'll probably (hopefully) be deserted.

"Oh," you say. "Cool. I can blow you!"

Jace swerves and nearly takes the car onto the gravel gutter. "Christ!"

"I mean, not right off the bat, but, like, I seriously haven't been able to stop thinking about dick. I'm thinking I really like sucking dick." Sure, it's overshare-y, but if there's anyone you can say that to it's to the someone you're dating, someone who recently had his werewolf cock in your ass. "It's weird to say that dicks taste good, right? But, I dunno, it's something like that. They've got a nice weight. In my mouth."

"Oh my god," he says. His hips shift, and, yeah, his cock is tenting his jeans, forming a fat, solid curve between his thighs. You look at it and swallow. His fingers clench on the steering wheel, nails thicker and darker, growing longer was you watch. His voice rasps. "You can't just say that."

"Dude, do you even remember how you opened, all growling and like, 'I'm gonna seed you with my huge werewolf cock', like, come on, I wanna suck your cock, this is hardly worse. You totally earned this."

"I mean," and his voice is a guttural growl, throat grown lumpy, dark fur peeking up from the dip of his shirt, inhumanly-defined pecs starting to strain against the fabric. "Unless you want me to crash the car you'll wait until we're fucking parked." There's a dark splotch seeping through his jeans, and you can fucking smell it, the familiar-as-of-recent smell of rank wolf musk.

If he'd known you better he'd know that was basically exactly the wrong tack to take; you're infamous among anyone who's ever been on a long car ride for your incessant hassling. This is exactly the kind of shit you need to go on dates to figure out. You... assume. You've never actually been on a date before, like, a real one. "Will you turn this car around?" You tease, and Jace just growls in response. "Because I'm thinking we'd probably want a little more privacy than a scenic outlook, for what I've got in mind."

Jace growls again, and then pulls onto the next gravel offside, one that's thankfully blocked from view by the road by a copse of trees. He lunges the instant the car stops, half-climbing over the gearshift to push you against the door, mouth lolling open as a long tongue spills out, lapping over your lips before slamming his face against yours. In a sexy way. Your lips part in a yelp, and he rumbles into your mouth, huffing as his fangs drag over your lower lip, tongue pressing it down against his jaw.

He's a very different kisser from Shey, that's for sure.

You reach for his cock instantly. His bulge is inhuman, pinned tight in the crotch of his jeans. He whimpers when you grind your palm against it, rock hard and practically steaming, the denim damp to the touch, slippery wetness seeping through.

You unzip his jeans and his cock knifes out. He's wearing boxers, and the right leg is all twisted and pulled back, letting his cock jut out, balls hanging below. It's... not what you were expecting.

What an innocent, idyllic existence you had all of three days ago when you assumed everyone had a normal, human dick. Well, everyone with a dick, at least. Jace is half-shifted, and his cock is correspondingly... halfway there. Firstly, it's immense, which you're starting to take as a given. It's fat and pink, huge and just getting bigger. His cockhead is a flushed pink, slick and dripping; his foreskin puffy: loose, thick and stretched almost to the base of his cock, the excess skin pillowing in a barely-there ring. It's pointed, but not the sharp tip of his wolf dick, and his shaft is bloated fat in the middle despite otherwise being human. Shaggy hair spills across his inner thighs, prickly hair climbing most of the way up his cock and completely coating his gargantuan balls. It looks like he's got two fucking potatoes for balls, the huge, lumpy, oblong ones, and his sac twitches and pulls, dragging them higher, against the underside of his cock.

And, bizarrely -- at the very base of his cock, almost where it joins his body, he's got what definitely looks like a knot, two swollen hemispheres cracked around his shaft. Just, under his otherwise still very human skin, even with a dusting of curly hair over the red, flushed skin.

You'd say something like "holy shit, that's hot," except instead of doing that you just groan and break your kiss, lurching down to drag your face against it. The gearshift is in the way; it's kind of awkward, but you slump down, ass pressing against the window as you push him back enough to fit your mouth on and around his dick. Car sex is kind of logistically awkward.

So it's heavy in your mouth, taut and fluttering in the way you're quickly learning dicks are. It's flushed, pulsing with his heartbeat, and each pulse makes it jerk, twitching up to tap against the roof of your mouth. He wails, a growling inhuman noise, and his cock spurts enough pre to puff your cheeks out, a slimy drizzle squirting from your stuffed mouth. You try to groan and just spit out a mess of pre down his dick, and then you go crosseyed watching the cloudy white mess drool down and soak into his jeans. You gurgle more as you lap on his cock, tongue swiping across the underside of his cock, to where the stretched-out flesh of his foreskin forms a thick line all the way down.

Jace wraps a hand around your head, his claws pinpricks behind your ears. He hunches up, rolling his cockhead over your lips. Each time he pulls out a burble of slime follows, streaking down your chin and drawing out into jiggling strings; it's a little gross but Jace -- and you -- are into it, his eyes golden and gleaming as you suck on his cockhead.

You lean into him, head pressed against his stomach, hands grasping his cock, stroking with both hands.

"Oh fuckkkkk," he says, voice warping into a growl, and he sprays pre all across your face, hosing you down. The patter of his pre dripping from your face onto the leather seats is loud in the car. "Oh, fuck, the seats!"

You laugh a little against his cock, getting another faceful of slimy werewolf pre for your troubles. "You want me to stop?" Talking drags your lips against the underside of his cockhead; he sprays arcs of pre out, wetness streaking your cheeks and soaking into your hair.

"Ah, fuck no," he says, claws closing on your chin and dragging you back down, stuffing his cockhead back into your mouth.

The angle's super awkward, you splayed out over both seats, him sitting sideways in the seat, one leg crushed under him, but he sure as hell isn't complaining. You stroke him off, lapping back and forth over the loose flesh of his stretched-out foreskin, and he groans and growls, pumping a constant spray of rank-tasting werewolf pre down your throat. You stroke him off, the layers of sludgy pre gummy and crackling between your fingers, and you clench tighter just to have it ooze through your fingers, thick and more than a little gross. Your fingers press against your lips, and then you pump down, smacking into his fully-inflated knot, splattering ooze everywhere, thick lines sticking his rucked-up teeshirt to his stomach and soaking his boxers to his skin. He hunches into it, grunting and groaning, cock knifing up through your fists, completely coated in slobber and pre, blobs and clusters of the messy slime smeared all across his probably really expensive seats.

Jace groans, bracing a hand against the roof of the car and pressing his face against his forearm, just grunting and groaning, stuttering out little "oh fuck" and "yeah"s, drooling, his teeth sharp and big in his mouth as he fucks your face. His knot slaps against your curled fingers and he strains, the whole length of his cock twitching and pulsing. He drags back not even an inch before pushing forward again, smacking the flesh of his knot against your hand with a sharp crack, again and again as his grunting grows into an uneven roar.

You let him knot your hands, since that seems to be what he's aiming for: you pump tight down his shaft and then let his next thrust plant his knot right between your fingers, clenching your fingers around the rubbery flesh. He goes fucking mental, a low noise building in his chest and sounding like it's being yanked up his throat, coming out in a series of sharp, high yelps. His cock shudders and shakes, tip painting your tonsils with pre before it erupts, tar-thick wolf jizz flooding your mouth, gummy-thick. You cough and choke, spitting in in huge, sluglike globs down his shaft, and he just sprays out more, chunky and thick and clotted to the inside of your mouth, rancid with animal musk. You gulp it down, wheezing for breath between spurts. Just as much ends up drooling down his dick as ends up in your mouth.

He's completely out of it: when you look up, one eye squinted closed from the lines of jizz webbed over it, his mouth is slack, jaw absently working, lines of drool winding down his thickened throat. He's grunting -- whimpering -- in time with his throbbing knot, the gummy flesh straining against your fingers in sharp, sudden pulses.

He hits the point where his jizz goes from near-solid to near-water, like he's just pissing out... something, acrid sprays hosing into your mouth and gushing out, pouring down onto the very probably ruined seats.

You figure you should let him keep going for a while. You're not gonna lie, you're increasingly jealous: the blissful hour-long orgasms definitely seem like the best part of being a werewolf. You didn't think to even get your cock out; with both your hands stuck around his knot you have to resort to grinding against the gearshift. Your trapped cockhead jabs against the grip and you grind down hard until it shifts and pops to the side. You start up a rhythm, hardly even thinking about Jace's dick -- aside from how, you know, it's heavy and solid and your lips are wrapped around it, still spurting in your mouth and spraying you with come. All that stuff is kind of difficult to ignore. But whatever, you just let his load slop out of your mouth and breathe through your nose.

You rock against the gearshift, the pressure sending lighting arcs of pleasure zinging up your spine, too much and not enough at the same time. You groan around Jace's cockhead, fingers clenching down harder -- and dragging a higher whine from Jace's throat, his hips jolting forward and vainly trying to fit more of his spurting dick in your mouth. It's kind of a fucking chore, but at the same time, so, hey, you're drooling all over a huge weird werewolf dick while it pumps out what's rapidly approaching literal liters of jizz, wrecking a completely fancy car; it's less about having the right dick sensations and more about how the whole situation is absolutely hot.

So you come in your pants, is the point. Your awkward rutting against the gearshift pays off, and Jace keeps making these shuddery growling-groans that go straight to your dick, and the mess he's making soaks down your body, adding just-enough friction, and then you're shuddering as your cock pulses in your jeans. You pull off his dick, the nearly cherry-red tip painting your face with watery lines, and you have to close both eyes.

Jace makes a sad little whimper when you open your hands, letting the bulb of his knot pull from between them with a wet slurp. It's gnarled with veins, and they're visibly throbbing. A wave of jizz gushes all across your face and chest -- not that you weren't already soaked -- before settling down, the arcing spurts dying down until it's just streaming down his shaft. You don't actually take your eyes off his dick. Jace sits back, ass landing with a splash in the puddle all across the driver's seat, and he curses.

On further inspection, the car is seriously wrecked. The windows are fogged, slimy cords forming from the not-quite-water condensation, and almost every surface on the dash is shining and slippery. There're coagulated globs of jizz in a ragged strip between the seats, and a watery flood of it in the footwells. This is really putting the time Shey knotted you in perspective: werewolves come a whole fuck of a lot. It's a little more obvious when it's not all, uh, up your ass.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and the touch of skin against your lips -- your lips are seriously swollen, flushed and aching.

You'd maybe apologize for the state of the car, but let's be honest: you're not sorry in the least.

"This is gonna cost a fortune to clean up," Jace says, making a face when his feet stir up the mess in the footwell. Then he looks up at you and grins. "Worth it, though." He leans in, still-clawed hand curling around your neck, and it feels like it takes forever before your lips actually meet. His fangs nip at your bruised lips, and his cock twitches between you when you groan.

All-in-all, you're rating this idea pretty high.

Jace eventually breaks the kiss, minutes later. Your face and jaw are dotted with red marks. His lips are slick with spit and his own jizz, flushed red. He grimaces again at the squelch when he sits back. "We should, uh. Probably get going."

His load is cooling against your skin, sloppy and increasingly gross, so: you agree. "Yeah. But, like -- oh, hey, I should give you my number!" You try and fail to pull your phone from your pocket. It's too slippery. "Uh, maybe later, though."

"Sorry," Jace says, and he's clearly not. He gingerly tucks his cock back into his jeans, half-hard and knot still partly inflated, and the ludicrously huge bulge it makes is, if anything, even hotter than having his dick out in the open. His shirtfront is plastered to his chest, and you can watch as his black fur slowly recedes.

He rolls down a window, and for a brief idyllic second you can smell the green forest scent, before the muggy sex-smell swamping the car (and painted all over your face) rolls back in, salt and musk and really, mostly a smell that's just "jizz". You cough. It's strong.

"I'm not." You wipe down your window, the glass slimy under your fingers. When you pull back, tendrils web across your palm. "You think you can make it through town without getting pulled over?"

Jace wipes the rear-view mirror. "Hope so."

"God, werewolf sex is so messy. The locker room was such a great idea. I have no clue how I'm gonna get inside without tipping off my dad -- Oh! Uh. You could drive me over to Shey's, his mom's gonna be working."

Jace gets a weird look on his face, like every time you mention Shey. This is going to get old fast: it's already getting old. "Sure," he says.

"Dude," you say, because you're never one to let awkward situations go when you can probably make them worse. Or, at least, more awkward. "I know you got that weird rivalry with Shey going on but this is, seriously, one thing where you really, really don't gotta compete with him."

Jace scowls when he starts the car (and it starts; you have to admit you were more than a little worried that some of Jace's load, like, seeped into the works. You have no clue how cars work.) and peels out with enough force to jerk you back against the seat. With a wet thump. Ideally, you'd find the right thing to dissolve his messy superiority complex, but it's starting to dawn on you that there isn't some magical string of words that'll make him get with it. Which is unfortunate for everyone.

Despite the awesome sex, the ride back into town is basically as awkward as the ride out. You slump against one (greasy) door and watch the smears in the glass distort and crust over as the car airs out.

Jace pulls over a block from Shey's place. You have, thankfully, not alerted any cops in the drive over, because that would be mortifying on all levels. They would call your dad. Jace clenches the steering wheel before pushing away, back hitting the seat with a thump. "You like me, right?" he says, and that's definitely a thread of nervousness in his voice, trying for casual and completely blowing it. No one ever casually asks if you like them.

"Yeah," you say, and then after a pause where Jace just clenches his hands you add "but I'm not gonna sit on your lap at lunch like Jess does with Bryce, that shit is obscene."

Jace grins, faking it. This whole situation sucks, and you kind of want to just bail out all "well thanks for the ride, seeya," except that would probably validate every one of Jace's dumb worries about him vs. Shey.

By this time your pants are only damp with jizz instead of soaking, so you peel your phone out. "Call me, like -- we can go on... a date, or something, I dunno." You're also really failing at sounding casual about this. Yes, popular football jocks hit on me all the time. That's what you should be projecting. You think.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah! Yeah, let's do that."

"Seriously," you say, pulling him over to kiss him again, comparatively chaste on account of how you are in a residential neighborhood and also he's freaking out. "Stop freaking out." You pull your backpack from the back seat, comparatively unscathed from the fucking jizz explosion that happened in the front, and shoulder it. "Thanks for the ride. I'll -- see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," he says, again, and gives you a cocky wave as you tumble out of the car. Stringy lines of jizz drool from the underside of the door; you're again aware of how much you reek of sex, shirt kind of plastered to your body. "Seeya!"

"Don't get pulled over on the way back!" you yell, watching him drive off. It's not that you regret -- well, any of it, at all, but this is rapidly spiraling out of your control. Insofar as it was ever in your control, which was never.

And now you have to clean yourself up and get over to your place before your dad gets super suspicious, because... fuck, because he knows you and Shey are together, and so "hanging out at his place while his mom's out" is probably not gonna fly as well as it used to. You don't think telling him you were actually off making out in a car -- to put it extremely lightly -- with someone else would help your case at all.

Things are only looking to get more complicated from here on out. What a mess.

...And only then, of course, does it occur to you that you never actually asked Jace what the hell was up with him being a werewolf. Add that to the to-do list.