Damian's Wolf - 41. Field of Glory

Warm lips wrapped around his length, Jordan’s hips bucking slowly as he roused from the depths of sleep. Damian’s eyes twinkled in the early dawn, staring up at his mate as he worked for a little breakfast.

“Morning…” Jordan yawned, rolling over to lay on his back.

A moment later, the bed shook as the neko bounced up between the two wolves. His hips straddled Jordan’s shins, his torso lowering slowly until his mouth engulfed the man’s length again.

“Morning,” Lysander murmured, reaching over to stroke Damian’s back. “I think we’ve created a demon.”

Damian pulled off with a quiet merf, giggling quietly.

“No, I’m just trying to make up for a month of blue balls,” the neko said, reaching over to play with Lysander’s morning wood. “So… who’s gonna stick it in my ass? I’ve been a bad boy and my wolves need to punish me.”

“Sorry Kalael, but not today, okay? Jordan and I need to get ready to meet the team.”

“Oh, right! What were you supposed to eat? Spinach and eggs, right? With some tuna?”

The neko jumped off the bed, racing around in the dark to grab clothes. He collided with the dresser, letting out a yowl that was followed by a whine from the other room.

“Slow down Damian. We have time. Oh, and don’t forget the berries,” Lysander added, rolling out of bed. “I’ll get siala kalael. Jordan, don’t worry about what to wear-”

“Wasn’t going to,” the man muttered, sitting up. “I was more worried about if I’m supposed to piss or cum.”

“Um… sorry about that,” Damian frowned, rubbing his leg.

“Piss. Definitely go pee. Best not to cum until after the match,” Lysander added as he pulled on a shirt. “It’ll knock your testosterone down a bit.”

Jordan grumbled, but stood up anyway. He pushed past Lysander, heading to the bathroom.

A quick shower had him feeling a little better about the ungodly hour, though it did nothing for his nerves. Nothing would help that, he knew. Why had he agreed to play in front of hundreds, no, thousands, of people again?

Sighing, the werewolf made his way back to the bedroom, letting out a startled yelp as a hand smacked his butt. He turned, finding Damian smirking at him.

“Hey, if you’re not too tired after the game, I was wondering if you’d let me… you know…”

The neko’s ears flicked as he trailed off, his bravado fading as fast as it had come.

“You could what?” Jordan chuckled, stepping into the neko. “Come on, tell the werewolf what you want.”

His body twisted, his back rubbing over Damian as the neko squeaked. A had wrapped around the werewolf’s naked body, Damian standing on his toes as his tenting groin pressed into Jordan’s butt.

“Oh, do you want to fuck me?” Jordan teased, reaching behind him to play with the neko’s crotch. “Fill me with your seed so we can fuck, and then fuck, and fuck again, until we’re nothing but two horny animals breeding each other?”

Damian breathed heavily, his chin knocking against Jordan’s shoulder as he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, that…”

Jordan stepped away from his mate with a smirk, Damian nearly stumbling forward.

“We’ll have to wait for that,” the werewolf grinned. “Aw, are you all hot and bothered?”

“This is punishment for waking you up, isn’t it?” the neko grumbled.

“Yep. Enjoy,” Jordan snickered, before vanishing into the bedroom.

“...Thayla Asternil has been apprehended. She has been confirmed as the head of the pro-mage group known as the Silver Hand. Official charges have yet to be levied-”

Jordan shut off the radio, letting out an angry growl as he sat back in his seat. Beside him, Lysander drove quietly, not letting any emotion escape in regards to the arrest.

“Pro mage? They’re literally known for killing werewolves!” Damian snapped. “Pro mage my tail! They’re anti werewolf and nothing else!”

“Settle down Kalael. The important part is she’s been captured, and the Silver Hand is somewhat leaderless. They’ll be panicking for a bit, not knowing what to do. This is good no matter how they spin it,” Lysander said quietly.

“That’s him!”

Lysander pulled the car around the stadium as Jordan growled suddenly, the elf carefully weaving through traffic toward the back gates. Jordan’s face was pressed against the glass, his eyes following the man that had been eying Damian up at the bake sale.

“Yes, that’s Alistar Retty,” Lysander grunted as the car settled to a stop.

“What- no, that was the man that was leering at Damian!” Jordan protested.

“Man? No, he’s an elf… well, half elf,” Lysander said. “And entirely too long lived to be on a football team.”

Behind them, Damian coughed, and Lysander sighed.

“Yeah yeah, I’m an elf too, I know…”

Jordan watched a group of humans close in around the half elf, escorting him into the stadium. Turning back to Lysander, he frowned.

“What the fuck is a football player doing looking at a werewolf’s mate?”

“Sizing up his competition?” Lysander shrugged in indifference, opening the car door. “It’s not like neko werewolves are common. And they’re known to be athletic anyway; it makes sense Damian would want to be on the werewolf team. There were more than a few wolves visiting just to get a bit of insight into the new player.”

“Really?” Damian asked nervously. “But I’m not even that good.”

“Kalael, with your tail untucked, you are amazing. And that’s without the proper uniform,” Lysander denied. “Now why don’t you take Dylan into the stadium? You get to be on the sideline, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to carry a baby through the locker rooms.”

“Arisa said she’d be saving a seat for you near midfield,” Jordan added.

Damian nodded, stepping out of the car. Jordan watched his mate’s tail flicker as the neko bent to unbuckle Dylan’s car seat. The smaller neko let out a wailing cry as he was removed from the car, and Damian wrinkled his nose as a stench filled the vehicle.

“Uh uh, you’re going to have to deal with baby duty today,” Jordan said quickly.

“Yeah, sorry Damian, but Jordan and I are running a little late,” Lysander added, stepping out of the car. “We need to get into the locker room and get changed.”

“Fine, but you two better breed me good tonight to make up for this,” Damian grumbled, setting the carseat down so he could take care of their son.

Lysander grabbed the neko, pressing a kiss to his lips as a hand slipped the car keys into Damian’s pocket.

“Don’t worry Kalael, the big bad wolf will be out in force tonight.”

“You still owe me that fucking you teased me with earlier,” Jordan added with a sharp smirk on his face.

“Yeah… I’ll get on that as soon as we get home,” Damian promised. “You two go do your thing. Have fun.”

Jordan followed Lysander toward the stadium, his smirk replaced with a frown.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Don’t worry about our mate. He can handle himself,” Lysander promised. “Take a breath, and let your worries drift away on the exhale.”

Jordan did as he was told, his mate’s voice soothing him as they stepped into a long hall. Lysander was right; Damian could take care of himself.

The sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the room. The wolves were relegated to the guest locker room; they were in the Foxes’ stadium after all.

Beside Jordan, Lysander had stripped to his underpants, his white hair glowing against dark skin as he teased fringe strands into a surprisingly tight knot on the back of his head. Jordan found himself more focused on his mate than on dressing himself, and Lysander let out a low chuckle.

“Keep it in your pants, Aerael,” the elf said.

“Yes, please do,” a human nearby agreed. “We don’t need to get a wolf pile going in here right before a match; the Foxes would not appreciate it.”

“You can have as much of me as you want as long as you block at least one ball today,” Lysander added with a smirk.

“Does it count if I gave Damian blue balls?” Jordan offered, pulling an undershirt on.

He stared at the jockstrap that had come with his uniform, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when Lysander kicked his own underpants off. The elf tucked himself into a support, his cheeks glowing in the light of the locker room, and Jordan growled as another wolf glanced at his mate’s body.

“Dude, fucking settle. He’s mated, we know. I don’t do elves anyway,” the other werewolf snapped.

“Lysander, control your mate,” someone said sharply, and Jordan bit off his growl, face burning in shame.

The man fitted himself in his own jockstrap, Lysander’s hand smacking his butt lightly.

“Growl again and I won’t let you top me after Damian is done with you,” the elf murmured in Jordan’s ears.

“Duly noted…” Jordan breathed, fighting the blood rushing to his groin.

He focused more on getting dressed, pulling on a pair of loose shorts. Shin guards followed, the werewolf struggling for a moment to fit his foot through the right hole. Finally, he pulled his socks over the plastic guards, stretching his leg out to try to get a feel for the material. A jersey followed, a large number one emblazoned in yellow on the back of the green clothing.

“Now there’s my sexy athlete,” Lysander grinned, poking Jordan’s shoulder.

The elfs own green jersey bore a yellow 18 on the back, Ethis stencilled over the top, and Jordan frowned, pulling at his own shirt in an attempt to see what name he was using.

“You’re wearing Ethis too,” Lysander provided. “I hope it’s okay; that’s probably going to be Damian’s jersey too.”

“Yeah,” Jordan said quietly as an elf stepped up on a bench in a suit and tie.

“Alright everyone! First match of the preseason, and it’s a friendly match!”

A smattering of chuckles around the room left Jordan a bundle of nerves. Was that a joke? Or would people be trying to kill him on the field?

“We have fresh blood today. I’m told we’ll be getting a new keeper in a month or so, but until then, let’s try not to damage Jordan too much. Kyle, Aerin, you two make sure no balls get near the new guy.”

A deep breath shook Jordan’s chest, his eyes staring blindly ahead as Lysander patted his back.

“Shoes on, big guy. You can’t play just in socks.”

Nodding absently, Jordan shoved his feet into the pair of cleats he’d been loaned. It was a tight squeeze around the ankle with the strap from the shin guard, but he finally got the cleats on, tying them tightly.

A shadow fell over him, a comforting hand dropping on Jordan’s shoulder. He looked up at the elven coach, another deep breath filling his lungs.

“Don’t stress too much Jordan. This really is just a friendly game. No one’s going to be upset if you let a ball past you. Just do your best, and think about whether you like it or not. It would be nice to have a second keeper.”

“Yo Coach, Silas here says he could seduce Retty to our roster!” someone called loudly

Raucous laughter filled the locker room, Jordan letting out a nervous chuckle at that thought.

“Just relax Aerael. We’ll have a few minutes to jog around the field, get some time to warm up. You’ll see, most of the people won’t even be watching you most of the time,” Lysander encouraged as the man pulled on his other cleat.

“It’s time. Let’s get to the tunnel.”

Numbly, Jordan stood up, following a growing line of barely sixteen people out of a door.

Feet scuffed at the floor, Jordan waiting impatiently as the non wolf Foxes slowly trickled into the tunnel after the werewolves. He stood at the front of the line, his nerves at a near breaking point as a man… no, a half elf, stepped up beside him.

“You were stalking my mate,” the werewolf growled quietly, turning his head toward the Foxes’ keeper.

“Who, me? Why would I go after a wolf?” Alistar smirked. “I am happily promised to a beautiful elven woman. I have no need for a sack of fur in my bed.”

“I saw you. Damian organised a bake sale for my bookstore. You were there, staring at him.”

“Is that why you were tongue fucking the neko in public? It sounds like you might have some jealousy issues,” the half elf scoffed. “You might want to work on that.”

“Look here-”

It was too late. A quiet bell chimed through the tunnel, and the other keeper was already walking toward the sunlight, and the field beyond. A sharp finger pressed into Jordan’s back, and the werewolf stumbled forward, catching up to Alistar quickly.

He matched the half elf’s pace as they emerged on the halfway line. Sunlight nearly blinded him after the artificial lighting of the lockers and tunnel, and Jordan blinked rapidly, feeling disoriented as the roar of thousands of people bored into his ears. They weren’t here for him, he knew. They were here for the other team. To watch the professionals kick the wolves’ asses.

Clearing his eyes, Jordan broke into a jog alongside Alistar, the two lineups splitting at the half. His eyes flicked at the white lines spray painted along the pitch, magic filled runes capturing the sound of the field itself and dulling the roar of the crowd, all to improve the audio quality for the cameras he could see placed around the stadium.

And yet there were other runes mixed with them, evenly placed to blend with the technical runes. A wave of heat washed over Jordan as he led the wolves on a warm up jog around their half of the pitch, and his heart nearly stopped.

Turning the corner, the werewolf’s head turned, and he put on a burst of speed, matching the long strides of the half elf on the far end of the pitch. These runes… barely visible unless someone knew what to look for. They were Thayla’s runes… or someone who had studied under her. There was no doubt in Jordan’s mind what they were for.

Warmth filled the stadium, and he knew where it came from now. The entire field was a firebomb set to go off if so much as a foot was set inside. Lysander had told him the players entered the field first, before the officials. He needed to stop the other team.

“Slow down, this is just a warm up,” the player behind him called sharply.

Watching Alistar turn the final corner, Jordan ignored the wolf, putting on a burst of speed. He tore around the corner, racing down the visitors’ side of the field. Terror filled Alistar’s eyes as the wolf sprinted toward him, and the half elf picked up speed himself, trying to beat the wolf to the field.

“No!”

Jordan threw himself at the half elf, knocking Alistar off his feet as a foot hovered over the sideline. They two rolled away from the field, Jordan forcing the half elf to stay down as the entire stadium broke out in a roar of disbelief.

“It’s a fucking bomb!”