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[eatmoreprotein]

I have no idea why I put myself through the torture of going on runs with Derek Hale.

Actually, I do, but it's hard to remember the reasons right now. I was relieved when Derek and Barry showed back up from their weird Darrow-related absence, and not only because it eased the worried pinch in Bittle's brow when his friends showed back up . Derek doesn't say much about where he was, but he does say that he and Barry were together, so I suppose that's a good thing. They didn't have to miss each other.

Derek seems to fall back into his routines easily enough, and it isn't long before his triumphant return that he's swinging by to pick me up for runs. I had gotten out of shape (for me) in the time he was gone, and it reminds me why I subject myself to trying to keep up with a werewolf.

He literally has supernatural endurance, running through the woods without so much as a hitch in his breath, and it pulls at my competitive nature. I could never win when it comes to him, and he doesn't rub the fact in my face. He simply pushes me to be better, to try harder, simply by allowing me to run alongside him. He seems to know that it helps me, but doesn't say anything about it. We seem to understand each other in that way.

It's after such a run in the swampy summer heat that I break off from Derek and jog back home. My shirt is tucked into the waistband of my small running shorts, because it's far too hot to cover more skin than absolutely necessary. Every bit of my skin is glistening with sweat and I look over myself in the elevator to check for burns. I smell like the fake chemical coconut of too much sunscreen, but it seems to have done its job. I'm grateful for it, especially after a long morning of watching Derek's sunburns heal themselves before they have a chance to turn his golden skin anything more than slightly pink.

I wouldn't want it for myself but damn, it must be nice to be a werewolf.

There's the ubiquitous scent of baked goods coming from our front door, and I smile to myself as I let myself into the apartment. Bits is distracted at the oven, and I run my fingers through my sweat damp hair as I reach gratefully for the bottle of water he must have set out for me.

He hasn't noticed me yet so I take my time to watch his hips sway to the music. Blood is still pumping through me but at the sight of his ass and thighs it all seems to rush downward. "Hey, Bits."

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[puckandpie]

Honestly, there hasn't been too much of a change in our routines since Jack moved in. We still start our days mostly the same, it's just now we're sharing a bed every single night instead of most nights and I spend my mornings in my own kitchen with my steadfast Betsy instead of sometimes using Jack's. Most days, that is. Sometimes I can be talked into joining him and Derek out on their run, but unless we're doing sprints, I find myself lagging behind way too soon.

So usually I just stay home and sleep in a bit, maybe catch up on some homework or make breakfast. Over the summer, I had two early classes that got in the way, but now that the fall semester has started, I'm eager to get into a nicer routine, humming my way through Lady Gaga as I put the finish scooping in the muffin batter and slide the whole batch into the oven.

I'm just reaching over to start the timer when I hear Jack's voice behind me and I just about jump out of my skin.

"Oh! Goodness, I didn't hear you come in," I apologize, darting over to turn off the music before getting a good look on him. He's bare from the waist up, wearing little more than a pair of shorts that, frankly, should be illegal. The fabric sticks to his legs and his entire upper half is covered in a sheen of sweat.

He tips his head back to swallow a gulp of water and I stare at the long line of his throat, my own mouth suddenly dry.

"You have a nice run with Derek?" I finally manage, forcing myself to snap out of it though I can't quite tear my eyes away yet. "And, uh. Do you want bacon or sausage?"

[eatmoreprotein]

"It was good," I say absently, staring right back at him. He's wearing a light tank and his shorts are small enough that the hem nearly disappears under his apron. There's a smear of flour across his forehead and his cheeks are stained pink. He looks so good, and I set the water down as I toe out of my shoes and socks. He looks so comfortable, so at home here with me, and I find myself moving towards him before I can even really process that my feet are moving.

"Neither," I tell him, reaching out to grab him by the hip. Sunlight filters in, nearly making him glow where it catches on his golden hair and the tips of his thick eyelashes. "Not yet, anyway. I think I need to work up more of an appetite."

[puckandpie]

There's a darkness in Jack's gaze I recognize all too easily. It's not a look I would have a recognized back at Samwell. In fact, I don't think it's a look anyone would have recognized back then. Here in Darrow, I'd like to think it's one Jack saves just for me, all intent and focused and... goodness, predatory.

I watch him set his water bottle aside and slip out of his shoes and socks. He walks toward me slowly, his hands landing on my hips. The lip of the counter is against my backside and, because I have permission, I drop my own hands to his sweat-damp sides, feeling all that rock-hard muscle just beneath his skin.

"Do you?" I ask, my voice catching a little as all the blood in my body starts to rush south. I curve my lips up in a teasing grin, cock my head to the side as I play innocent. "How far'd you run today? Given how long you were gone, I'm assumin' at least six miles. That wasn't enough to make you hungry?"

[eatmoreprotein]

When I was in the elevator, all my thoughts were on making sure I wasn't sunburned and what I was going to stuff in my face when I got inside the apartment. That's such a distant concern now, but I can't say that I'm not hungry.

"We didn't keep track," I murmur, leaning in to drag the tip of my nose up the side of his throat. I never thought I would find myself addicted to the mingling scents of deodorant, cinnamon, and summer peaches but here we are. My hands slide down to cup the backs of his thighs, palms skimming over the soft golden hair there as my thumbs slide up under the fabric to fit under the curves of his ass.

"I am hungry, though," I tell him, kissing at the spot where his jaw meets his throat as I move my hands around under his apron, fingers working the button open. Our lips meet in a kiss as I pull the zipper down slowly, and I dip my hand inside to gently cup him through the soft cotton of his underwear. "Starved, even."

[puckandpie]

He smells like sweat and I know it should gross me out. I still have too many memories of sharing locker room space with a bunch of smelly frat boys for years on end, but this sweat... well, it's Jack. There's nothing gross about it. If anything, it's the exact opposite and I tip my head back easily as he presses closer, feel as he breathes a line up the stretch of my throat as he slips his fingers up under my own shorts.

And he keeps moving, ducking loser to kiss right at the hinge of my jaw as his hands wander under my apron and around to the front of my shorts. I don't bother to hide a gasp when I feel his hands making quick work of the top button, just grab hold of his arms with both hands and hold on tight. I'm not hard yet, not completely, but with the heat of his hand curled around the front of my underwear, I know it won't take very long at all.

"Jack," I breathe, almost dizzy with the whole thing, the rush of blood, his scent, the press of his lips against mine.

Forget the muffins, all I care about right now is getting Jack closer. A moan is lost as I lick into his mouth and roll my hips upward. I slide my hands higher up his arms and over his broad shoulders, partially just to feel him, but also to just hold on, glad for the counter against my back that's offering some bit of leverage. "Goodness-- God, you smell so good," I murmur, tracing a line of sweat down across his clavicle with my fingertip.

[eatmoreprotein]

His reaction makes me grin against the curve of his jaw and I nip gently with my teeth as I feel him swell against my palm. My shorts are already starting to tent, but I'm not surprised. I've never been so easy for anyone else but Bits just gets to me. He barely has to touch me and I get hard.

"So do you," I finally reply, burying my nose into his hair. It smells like the faint vanilla of his shampoo, mingling delicately with sweat and sugar.

After giving him a long, promising kiss, I grab him by the hips and gently turn him around. His hands fall away from me and I mourn the loss of his touch, making up for it by pressing in close behind him and taking his hands to place them flat on the counter.

"I seem to remember a conversation we had awhile back," I drawl, accent thick as I nudge his feet apart with one of my own. Carefully, I work his shirt up and off without removing his apron, tossing it aside before pressing in close again. My dick is almost painfully hard with anticipation now, and I press it to the small of his back while running my hands up his stomach and over his chest. His skin is so soft, nipples stiff when I pinch them.

I have no idea what's come over me, but I'm not complaining and it doesn't look like Bits is about to either, so I work my hand into his open shorts again, this time sinking my hand into his underwear to curl it around his cock. My mouth finds his ear, biting softly at the lobe. "Do you remember, mon chou?"

[puckandpie]

The kiss alone is enough to rile my further, my eyes falling shut as I sink into it completely, stuck between the press of his tongue in my mouth and the heat of his palm through my underwear. Feeling a little needy, I grind against him again, though it quickly turns into a gasp of surprise when he quickly pulls away and turns me around in one smooth motion.

"Jack?" My hands braced against the counter top, I look back over my shoulder, a little worried that maybe Jack's gotten possessed while out running. It's not like we haven't gotten a little rough before, but he's never been like this, never after a run.

And, well. This is Darrow. I've seen stranger things.

But then he brings up a conversation we had months ago, the night of my birthday, and I know it's him. It's all Jack. "Goodness, what's gotten into you?" I breathe, laughing a little as I hold myself up against the counter and feel him pressed against me. Those tiny shorts do absolutely nothing at all to hide what this is doing to him and I'm definitely dizzy now. It only gets worse (better?) when he pulls me up to slip off my shirt, his hands touching me greedily, one sliding down to sneak between me and the lip of the counter, this time to curl around my bare cock.

I'm fully hard now, of course, and there's no hiding the open gasp-groan I let out when he presses his lips to my ear, biting at the lobe. I try to swallow, which doesn't work so well and I whine instead, nodding helplessly as I reach back with one hand, sliding my fingers into his hair and holding on. "I remember," I tell him, rocking back against him and then forward. "God, Jack. Are you gonna?"

[eatmoreprotein]

"You want me to?" I ask, but the answer is pretty clear. His dick is wet at the head and I work his shorts and underwear down until they're tangled around his thighs. Hooking my chin over his shoulder, I wrap my fingers around his cock with the same reverent attention I used to show a hockey stick.

Bits' dick is as pretty as the rest of him, flushed pink with a pretty red head that I brush my thumb over as I give him a few lazy, teasing strokes. I step back with a kiss to his shoulder, tearing myself away with great effort.

"Stay right there. Get your shorts off, but leave the apron," I tell him breathlessly, letting my gaze drop to where the perfectly tied bow of his apron sits right at the curve of his ass, which is tipped up eagerly. It looks so much like a gift that I grab my phone and snap a quick photo, thankful my phone is on silent, before rushing to get the lube. My own shorts are gone by the time I get back, and I plaster myself against his back like an apology.

"I'm here," I murmur, coming back to myself just long enough to look over and make sure all the burners on the stove are off. The oven is on, making the kitchen warm and sweet, and I lean over him to press my hand down into the flour sprinkled across the counter.

I leave handprints on him, powdery white outlines of my fingers around his neck, on his hip and his back and his ass, and I kick his feet apart a bit more as I slick up the fingers on my clean, dominant hand.

"Up on your toes, Bittle," I say in a tone that's soft but firm, reminiscent of all those early morning checking practices. The position makes the muscles in his thighs flex, ass tilted up towards me, and I suck a mark into the side of his neck as I slowly press two fingers inside, letting out a low groan at the way he just opens for me.

[puckandpie]

"I want you to," I answer, though I have the feeling that's pretty clear already.

And I don't know what I'm expecting exactly, but him stepping away isn't quite it. Breath catching, I look back over my shoulder again to make sure nothing's happened and his eyes are a little apologetic as he tells me to stay where I am. At least until they drop to the tie of my apron. I'm warm all over, but I can feel it in my cheeks then and I bite my lip as I nod in reply, reaching down under the apron to tug my shorts and underwear off.

I hear him leave the room a moment later and I have a pretty good idea what he's after. His absence helps me catch my breath a little, though my legs still feel a little week and I tuck a self-conscious hand under my apron to give my erection a light squeeze. The oven's still going with twenty minutes still to go on the muffins and I let out a breath of relief that I hadn't thought to start in on some eggs before Jack's arrival.

Speaking of Jack, he's back in seconds, his footsteps clear across the linoleum and that white-hot thrill runs right up my spine all over again.

Biting back a smirk, I turn to the counter again and push up onto my toes just as he's said. I keep my head ducked, glancing back at him just enough to catch sight of the curve of his shoulder as I murmur, "Yes, Captai-- ahh!"

The press of his fingers shouldn't be surprising, I know, but somehow it is. He's not wasting any time on starting off slow and, honestly, I don't need him to. There's a little bit of a sting with the stretch, but I instantly relax the muscles and bend forward further, changing the angle just enough for him to slip right on inside. I can feel the heat of him pressed all along my backside, a stark contrast to the cool of the countertop against my front and I feel my eyes flutter closed. I can only imagine what we must look like, floured hand prints all over my back, Jack completely naked and me just in my apron. It sounds like every fantasy I ever had back at Samwell, but a million times better because it's actually happening.

"God, Jack," I groan again, arching my hips just a little rock back into him once I've loosened up some. "Please-- please tell me you didn't grab a condom."

[eatmoreprotein]

"Say that again." My voice is ragged and I should be a little embarrassed by the slight jolt of pleasure I got from him calling me captain, but I'm not. I just want to hear it again.

The sight of Bittle bent over the gleaming countertop in the middle of his pristine kitchen does something to me, makes my cock twitch where it's pressed against his hip. He's squirming on my fingers, making all sorts of gorgeous noise, and I crook my fingers up to find the spot I know will make it even more intense.

"Crisse," I gasp out, dragging my lips across the back of his neck and biting into the strap of the apron. I didn't grab a condom because we don't normally use them unless we're worried about clean up, and I'm definitely not. I want to get him as filthy as possible. "Why? Do you want me to come inside you, Bits? Tell me."

The third finger slides in with barely any resistence and I let out a low groan, withdrawing my fingers and stepping up behind him to press the bare head of my cock to his slick hole. It would be easy as anything to press inside, to not stop until I'm as deep as I can go, but I want to hear it first. "Tell me, mon chou."

[puckandpie]

There's no denying that tone in Jack's voice. It really is like being on the ice with him again, where he exemplified such effortless leadership, where even when I was convinced he hated me, I also knew he just wanted me to be better.

He's not asking for better right now, though. He's just asking for me and I just want to give him everything.

"Captain," I breathe in reply, though it comes out more like a whimper as he presses against me, biting at neck. He swears in French, fingers squelching as he presses deeper inside me and my feet skid on the floor before I catch my balance again, and try to catch my breath at the same time.

It's hard to answer him, mostly because he's driving me out of my mind with every push of his fingers, but I suck in a breath and give a jerky nod. "Yeah. Yes. God, Jack, please. Please." And I don't have to beg again, a grunt pushing past my lungs as he slips his fingers free. My muscles clench instinctively, already feeling too empty, but then he's pressing the blunt tip of his cock against me instead. Not pushing in yet, but teasing, making me feel how bare he is. "Jack," I whimper again, rocking my hips back against him, just enough to feel a more insistent nudge against my hole. "Please, baby. Fill me up. Wanna-- God, I want you. Want your come in me."

[eatmoreprotein]

"Bittle," I breathe out in reply, practically shivering with pleasure. He slips a little and I bend my knees to help accommodate for our differences in height, pressing him more firmly into the counter as I do.

It's so hard not to press into him, but I wait until I hear him plead in that syrupy southern drawl, the one he gets when he's too tired or too turned on to keep the honey out of his voice.

"I've got you, Bits. I'll take care of you," I promise, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as I sink into him with one smooth thrust, hips rocking forward until I bottom out. The groan that tumbles out of my lips is obscene, and I place a hand at the base of his spine, right above that inviting bow as I press him into the counter as I start to rock my hips. It's slow at first, deep rolls that have me pulling nearly all the way out before sinking in as deep as I can go.

"You feel so good, baby," I gasp out, uttering praise in two different languages as I fuck him slow and filthy over the kitchen counter. It's a fantasy come to life and my breath stutters out of me as I look down at the place where our bodies are joined. "If you could see yourself, Bits. You're incredible. Tell me, does it feel good?"

[puckandpie]

There isn't a single part of me that doubts he means exactly as he says. He's been taking care of me since the moment we met; it's just changed in type a little over the past couple years. And, right now, he'll take care of me in just exactly the way I need it.

His hand is warm at the base of my spine, grounding, and I try to find a grip on the counter as he slides in and then out, letting me feel every last inch, the flared tip catching at the rim before he's pushing back in again. It's slow and thorough and so completely overwhelming in the very best way.

"Don't-- don't need to," I tell him, arching my back a bit to change the angle so that he's hitting that spot inside in just the right way. It makes me gasp, makes my toes curl and every muscle in my body go tight. "Nnf, God. Jack, you're-- your cock is-- fuck, you feel so good. Please, you can-- A little harder. Please, Jack. Please fuck me."

It's not like me use that word, but I've come to learn that it just sorta drops out whenever Jack's inside me. I just sorta lose all control.

[eatmoreprotein]

Both of us are good at keeping ourselves composed. We were raised to hide away parts of ourselves, to live up to certain expectations, but when we're together, especially like this, it all falls away.

Filthy curses fall from Bitty's polite Southern mouth and let out a stuttering reply in French as my hips jerk in response. "Crisse, beautiful. So perfect."

My hands land on his hips and I pull nearly almost all of the way out of him just to snap forward with a thrust that's quick and hard, just like he wanted. It wrenches sounds from both of us and I slide one hand up to curl over his shoulder, holding him in place as I settle into a rhythm of quick, deep jabs that slam his hips into the counter. In the back of my mind I'm dimly aware of how easily he bruises, like a soft summer peach, and I slide my hands around to guard his delicate hip bones. My knuckles crack against the counter but all I can feel is the way he clenches down around me, perfect molten heat.

"This what you wanted, Bittle?" I gasp out in that same authoritative voice. "Tell me."

[puckandpie]

The first slam hurts a little, not inside so much but against my hips where I'm rammed into the counter. I can't hide a flinch and I shift just a bit to try bracing myself better. Except Jack beats me to it, his big, warm hands curling around my hip bones and tugging lightly, a barrier between myself and the edge of the counter top.

Instinctively, my muscles clench a little and I hear him react behind me with a soft gasp before I rock just a bit, urging him to keep going, to find a rhythm that will drive us both crazy in the best way.

"Yes," I groan, though I'm certain he's already well aware. He just wants to hear me say it. My beautiful, dumb Canadian just wants to hear me talk dirty. And I'm more than willing to try my hardest, to do whatever I can to make him feel good, too. "God, yes. Love-- love how you feel inside me. How you stretch-- goodness, how you stretch me wide so I can take all of you."

I arch a little then, propping myself up with one arm and reaching back behind me with the other so I can slide my fingers into his hair. My own cock keeps bumping against the counter here and there, not too hard, thankfully, but there's no doubt I've stained the inside of my apron something awful with pre-come, that I'm bound to make an even bigger mess if he puts one single hand one me right now.

[eatmoreprotein]

I'm wholly unprepared for the way that Bits stretches his lean, lithe body so that he can touch me, head lolling back on my shoulder as his fingers slide into my hair to leave streaks of flour through the strands. His whole body is on display for me, pert little pink nipples peeking out from just over the top of his apron.

"Crisse, Bits." My thrusts start to get a little erratic and my lips find the bolt of his jaw as I slide one hand in to curl around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. My lips are near his ear and I trace the shell of it with my tongue, holding him up when his feet slip against the tile. "Close, baby? Come on, I want to feel it when you come. So damn tight around me, Bits."

[puckandpie]

I've changed the angle a little like this and I'm grateful for all those years I spent learning and perfecting my Ina Bauer as Jack continues thrusting into me, burying himself deep each time and sneaking a hand under the apron to curl around me.

I can't stop saying his name, though my pitch changes slightly, turning into a high whine, a drawn out plea as he starts stroking, his lips brushing my hear. It's all I can do to even stay upright and I curl my hand tighter in his hair, holding on as the pleasure winds tighter and hotter at the base of my spine.

"Yes," I manage, a breathless admission as my feet slip again and I fall back against him. "God, yes, Jack. Jack, I'm so close. I'm so-- please. Please make me come. Please, please, I'm so close, baby. I'm so close."

[eatmoreprotein]

His fingers twisting in my hair makes me hiss, but it's a good pain-- a sharp contrast to all the pleasure making me feel like I might just float away. His voice is breathy, pitched high and needy as he begs, and I'm so fucking close to coming. My orgasm is waiting just out of reach, fire and pressure in the base of my spine, but I have to make him come first.

"Come for me, Bits," I murmur in his ear, stroking him with a grip that's just a bit tighter as I slam into him at the perfect angle. My own pleading tone isn't enough and I make my voice louder, sharper. My Captain voice. "Bittle, come for me. Let go."

[puckandpie]

His tone changes then, a low shift of pitch and suddenly he's everywhere, behind and around me, inside me, warming me all over. His hand is working quick, a counterpoint to his thrusts as he rocks into me and I have to tighten my grip in hair just to keep from falling over, the pleasure rising up through my veins like a pot about to boil over.

"Jack," I whimper, helpless to that authoritative voice of his, back arching as everything coils unbelievably tighter.

And then it's hitting me, everything going white behind my eyelids as the pleasure explodes. Everything is suddenly wetter where his hand is, messy with my come as he strokes me through it and my muscles clench, making him feel absolutely enormous inside me. My head if buzzing, muddy and faded as I completely lose the ability to breathe.

[eatmoreprotein]

By now I can tell when Bits is about to come and I hold him through it, murmuring praise in his ear. The way he clenches around me and the sounds he's making means that I only have to pump once, twice more before my own orgasm overtakes me and I have to do my best not to smash him against the counter.

I have to let go to grip the counter and brace myself, once strong arm on either side of him as I cage him in and come deep inside of him, messy and intimate and perfect.

"Crisse," I breathe, lips pressed to the juncture of his neck and shoulder as I gently pull out of him so his feet can rest flat against the floor. We're both breathing so hard and I turn him gently in my arms, fingers going to his ruddy cheeks as I search his face for any sign of discomfort. I know we talked about doing this is broad terms, but I was admittedly a little rougher than I intended to be. "Was that-- are you okay?"

[puckandpie]

I'm lucid enough to catch myself against the counter when Jack cages me in, bracing myself against it as he chases his own orgasm, thrusting deep and fast and hard enough to bruise as I struggle to keep myself upright.

And I can feel the exact moment he comes, his entire body going rigid behind me, his thrusts stilling suddenly. I'm not aware of the wetness until he pulls back enough that I can feel some of it slide out and, instantly, my face goes warm at the sensation. It's incredibly filthy and I'm glad we're not doing this on the table or I'd be scrubbing for hours, but there's something amazing in the dirtiness of it, too.

He slips out a moment later and I can't help but groan at the loss, the sound melting into a sigh as Jack meets my eyes, his fingers cool against my warm cheeks.

"I'm okay," I promise because he really looks genuinely worried. Though I'm not sure why. I press my hands to his skin, smooth them up his chest and over his shoulders. "Are you? That was all... pretty sudden, huh?"