Rift. (Rewritten in 2010)
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
28,529
Reviews:
162
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
28,529
Reviews:
162
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Summer, Year 1: Settling In.
Summer, Year One (8th Moon)
Alex had been Garron's bondmate for almost 3 months now, and things were going very, very poorly.
Garron sighed as he stumbled into his bedroom. He unbound his hair and undressed, then dropped down onto the bed for a nap. His tail fell heavily against his left thigh, and he stretched his arms above his head. It had been a long day; meetings with the GreatLake Pack had been difficult and stressful, Kriston had been critical of Alex's behavior at the noonmeal, the Council had been displeased with his current lack of a litter ("avoiding the natural responsibilities which an Alpha should embrace," they'd said), and even his time teaching his upper-level students had felt unfruitful and exasperating. Garron glanced around the room from his prone position. No signs of his mate. He sniffed the air. No, his mate certainly had not been here in hours.
Since Alex had become more accustomed to his Wolvish life, he'd also become more accustomed to spending his time outside of Garron's suite. This was not a problem in itself; Alex had been volunteering in the infirmary as a medic, and Garron knew that and praised it. And Alex had also made one or two human friends, both bonded to wolfes in Garron's upper echelons. Both were admirable enterprises, but something particular in his beta's absence just at that moment bothered Garron. It seemed sometimes as if Alex were conveniently busy — as if, without wanting to reveal himself, he were avoiding Garron.
Turning to lie on his back, Garron wondered if he and Alex would ever properly mate, bond, and have a litter; after all, Alex was well past the age at which first litters were generally birthed, and Garron himself was no younger. They were both still in their prime, however, and Garron took some comfort in the knowledge that at least they were trying. Even if it didn't seem to be working. Speaking truthfully with himself, Garron had to admit that he was getting a little worried about that part. Even a month of unbridled sexual activity should be more than enough to bring a lit to a fertile mate. But what if Alex wasn't fertile? It was a possibility, but unlikely. Betas were usually tested frequently for an aberrations in their fertility. He himself could be the problem. Perhaps some battle injury, or age, or some undetected genetic failure… or maybe he and Alex were simply incompatible. Or maybe they were trying too hard.
Whatever the reason, the results were disconcerting. Alex seemed in worse health than ever, and his spirits seemed to have sunk. Sex seemed to become a chore for the human: uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He flinched constantly away from Garron's touch. His skin had a strange pallor to it, and he had lost what little weight he'd had from an unaccountable lack of appetite. He also seemed unusually withdrawn, and oddly secretive — was he sick? Was his mate sick, and unwilling to place the burden of worry on Garron? Was he going through an illness alone? Garron's heart felt heavy at even the possibility. And if it was an illness of the mind and not the body? What then? What would he do if it was ColdRiver that was killing Alex? Perhaps he had too few friends, or spoke too little Wolvish, or knew too few of their customs or went outside too infrequently to ever really be happy. Although an unhappy prospect, at least this route of thinking gave Garron some hope. If the problem with Alexei was his environment, then the problem with Alexei could be fixed, or at least improved. Garron would just have to figure out how to do it.
+++++
Alex had been Garron's bondmate for almost 3 months now, and things were going very, very poorly.
Garron sighed as he stumbled into his bedroom. He unbound his hair and undressed, then dropped down onto the bed for a nap. His tail fell heavily against his left thigh, and he stretched his arms above his head. It had been a long day; meetings with the GreatLake Pack had been difficult and stressful, Kriston had been critical of Alex's behavior at the noonmeal, the Council had been displeased with his current lack of a litter ("avoiding the natural responsibilities which an Alpha should embrace," they'd said), and even his time teaching his upper-level students had felt unfruitful and exasperating. Garron glanced around the room from his prone position. No signs of his mate. He sniffed the air. No, his mate certainly had not been here in hours.
Since Alex had become more accustomed to his Wolvish life, he'd also become more accustomed to spending his time outside of Garron's suite. This was not a problem in itself; Alex had been volunteering in the infirmary as a medic, and Garron knew that and praised it. And Alex had also made one or two human friends, both bonded to wolfes in Garron's upper echelons. Both were admirable enterprises, but something particular in his beta's absence just at that moment bothered Garron. It seemed sometimes as if Alex were conveniently busy — as if, without wanting to reveal himself, he were avoiding Garron.
Turning to lie on his back, Garron wondered if he and Alex would ever properly mate, bond, and have a litter; after all, Alex was well past the age at which first litters were generally birthed, and Garron himself was no younger. They were both still in their prime, however, and Garron took some comfort in the knowledge that at least they were trying. Even if it didn't seem to be working. Speaking truthfully with himself, Garron had to admit that he was getting a little worried about that part. Even a month of unbridled sexual activity should be more than enough to bring a lit to a fertile mate. But what if Alex wasn't fertile? It was a possibility, but unlikely. Betas were usually tested frequently for an aberrations in their fertility. He himself could be the problem. Perhaps some battle injury, or age, or some undetected genetic failure… or maybe he and Alex were simply incompatible. Or maybe they were trying too hard.
Whatever the reason, the results were disconcerting. Alex seemed in worse health than ever, and his spirits seemed to have sunk. Sex seemed to become a chore for the human: uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He flinched constantly away from Garron's touch. His skin had a strange pallor to it, and he had lost what little weight he'd had from an unaccountable lack of appetite. He also seemed unusually withdrawn, and oddly secretive — was he sick? Was his mate sick, and unwilling to place the burden of worry on Garron? Was he going through an illness alone? Garron's heart felt heavy at even the possibility. And if it was an illness of the mind and not the body? What then? What would he do if it was ColdRiver that was killing Alex? Perhaps he had too few friends, or spoke too little Wolvish, or knew too few of their customs or went outside too infrequently to ever really be happy. Although an unhappy prospect, at least this route of thinking gave Garron some hope. If the problem with Alexei was his environment, then the problem with Alexei could be fixed, or at least improved. Garron would just have to figure out how to do it.
+++++