Archive of Our Own

As a kid, Eddie always struggled to fall asleep; He’d get tucked into bed, his mother kissing his cheek and rubbing her hand gently across his back as she wished him goodnight, close his eyes, and then—Nothing. An hour would pass and he’d still be awake, no more tired than he had been when he’d first gotten under the covers. 

What made it worse is that he was always able to hear everything around him, the crickets outside, the quiet hum of his parents talking in their own room, the occasional creak of a door or floorboard and the flick of a light switch, he perceived it all and it made it impossible to focus on the task at hand: sleeping. 

Whenever he’d stay at his abuela’s house, she’d have the perfect remedy, a herbal tea that she said she’d gotten the recipe and ingredients for from her curandero. Eddie never quite believed in his grandmother's spirituality, and his doubts only grew as he got older and watched her get scammed by fraud brujas praying on her vulnerability and beliefs, but even he had to admit that the tea really did work like magic. He’d drink it, quickly brush his teeth and get ready for bed, and then he was out like a light.

There was only one night at his abuela’s house that he didn’t manage to sleep the whole way through, and it was because he’d been woken up by a piercing scream and crash in the middle of the night. He was fifteen then, and his sisters had been in the room beside his own. Eddie had shot up, rushing to their room to check on them and give quick reassurances, before following the scream. 

He found his abuela in the kitchen, bent over in front of the sliding glass door and picking up shards of a shattered ceramic mug. As he moved closer, he could see that she was shaking.

“Abuela,” Eddie panted out, chest heaving from how hurried he’d been, “Is everything alright? What happened?”

His abuela shook her head, waving a hand behind her, as she stuttered out, “Go back to your room, mijo. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Instead of following her directions, he’d moved to grab the broom and dust pan, looking over her shoulder, “Let me help you clean up.”

She met his gaze, looking contemplative, before standing to her feet and backing away from the mess, letting him brush it all up.

As he went to throw all of the gathered shards in the trashcan, his abuela followed, a hand touching his shoulder. He turned towards her, and she smiled wistfully, nodding at the glass door she’d been in front of minutes ago. 

“Edmundo,” she didn’t often use his full name, and that alone had been enough to put him on high alert, “Do you remember the year that your abuelo died?” 

All Eddie knew was that he’d died fairly young from a heart attack, not so much so that it’d been abnormal for his age, but enough for it to have been a surprise for the whole family. His dad didn’t like talking about it, and his abuela only really mentioned him when Día de Muertos came around, “Eh, no,” he admitted, “Not very much. Maybe a vague idea of the funeral.”

“Of course not, it was silly of me to ask. It was nearly twelve years ago, so you should’ve been, what, about three or four years old? Siéntate,” Abuela led him to the dinner table, sitting them both down in seats across from one another, “Nowadays, there aren’t any animals here, but back then? We’d been raising a mini-farm, chickens, goats, we even had a horse.” He knew that, not out of recollection, but from having seen pictures of himself as a toddler ‘riding’ on the horse, his mother’s hands wrapped around his waist to balance him as he sat there, “In the months leading up to his passing, rumors had started to spread about a creature attacking farms. It started in Puerto Rico then made its way to Mexico, all around Latin America, before eventually landing here in Texas, close to the border. 

“I spoke to my bruja, asked if she had any advice, frightened that it could end up reaching us in El Paso. She told me to spread an ointment around our farmland where we kept our animals and that everything would be alright; But my husband said no, insisted he wouldn’t be doing such a thing. He was a lot like you, never quite believed in these things, called it all a joke, a myth, una fantasía.” She sighed, looking back towards the glass door and into the dark outside, “That was until we woke up in the middle of the night to rustling, and when he went to go check, he came face to face with that creature sucking the blood out of our livestock. It scared him so bad that it sent him into a heart attack, the same one that ended up killing him.”

“Abuela …” Eddie responded, drifting off.

His abuela hummed, “You don’t believe me, do you? It’s okay. I understand. But that creature, that chupacabra, it’s still roaming around. And I need you to listen to me…”

And maybe Eddie should’ve listened to his Abuela’s warnings (“Always lock your doors, Edmundo, and never go out in the dark at night,” she’d told him, “Los que tienen hambre no pueden ser melindrosos. If it wants to eat, it will.”) but he’d just been a kid, naive and clueless and ever so skeptical. Even present-day—as he came home from a long day of Uber-ing from dawn to dusk, stripping his clothes off and walking into the shower ready for the soothing hot water only to find it freezing cold, going outside of his fixer-upper of a house to go to the back and check if there was a problem with his haphazardly installed water heater with the only external light source being the phone that he held in his hand—he was naive. 

So maybe he should’ve listened, but he hadn’t. And he wasn’t able to get the chance to regret that fact before getting bitten and dragged off by a growling creature on all fours. 

—

When Eddie moved away, Buck had figured there would be a bit more awkwardness between them. Had prepared himself for it, in fact, scrolling through Quora forums and Reddit threads about what to do when friendships grow long-distance. He’d even googled a list of discussion topics to have at hand (How’s your family? Do you like your new house? Is the weather good? Are the drivers any better than they are in Los Angeles?). 

And then Eddie did move away and—barring the first week when he’d been getting his house ready and Buck had been struggling to unpack his own—they’ve been just fine. Their FaceTime numbers have skyrocketed in both quantity and length and their conversations have become no less plentiful, no stilted small talk or awkward silences, things have been just fine. Perfect, even.

So the first time that Buck wakes up and doesn’t receive a “Good Morning!” text from Eddie, who’s been sending them to him every single day as a way to poke fun at the fact that he’s officially two hours ahead of Buck, he doesn’t think much of it, just assumes that Eddie overslept and grins at the prospect of being able to say it to him first and rubbing it in Eddie’s face that he missed the chance.

But then Eddie doesn’t respond at all that day, not to the “Good Morning” text, or the “You missed out on saying good morning” text, or the “Are you busy today?” text, or the “Goodnight” text, or to the ten different FaceTimes Buck sends his way. And that’s fine, really, it is. Buck gets it. One odd day doesn’t mean anything.

But it keeps happening, again and again, for seven days straight. That’s a whole week of no Eddie. No texting Eddie, no calling Eddie, no seeing Eddie. The last time Buck did that was—Well, like previously mentioned, it was the week that they were both just moving into their new places, but outside of that, Buck can’t remember when. 

He tries his best not to fret, because he does still get it, he does. He even read about it during his anxiety induced researching, saw a graphic called a W-Curve showing how when moving to new places (usually a College or University since, as it turns out, most fully grown adults aren’t googling what to do when their friend moves away) there’s typically a honeymoon phase where somebody’s perfectly fine before it dives down into a culture shock, which is probably happening to Eddie right now at this very moment.

Because of this, Buck isn’t fretting. He doesn’t go over to Maddie’s place to rant about it nor does he try to bully Ravi into going to the bar with him so he can take the chance to complain; He’s perfectly normal about everything.

Then he gets a phone call from Chris, the first one he’s gotten since the kid took half of Eddie’s (and, if Buck’s being honest, his as well) heart with him. 

—

When Eddie wakes up, it’s to a throbbing sensation in his head and a sore body all over. His body feels like it’s been run over and thrown into a ditch, and there’s an abnormal staticky feeling creeping down his spine, making him feel out of place in his own skin.

He lifts a hand, because he doesn’t feel like he can lift much else at the moment, and freezes. His hand is much darker than usual, skin leathery and cold. His fingers—of which there are only four—are grotesquely long with sharp curved nails, the rest of his arm boney and crooked. 

Something isn’t right. He isn’t right. He scours his brain trying to think of what could’ve happened, what he’s missing, but nothing is clear. Any panic at his initial awakening seems to fade away, his thoughts floating to the back of his head as he searches and searches, trying to grasp any sense of self but comes up empty.

He heaves his body up and surveys the area around him. He’s in the forest, surrounded by trees and chirping wildlife, and laying in a pile of leaves. Looking down, the leaves are covered in dried blood. He wonders where it could’ve come from. He can’t seem to find it in himself to care.

A squirrel comes up next to him, eyes curious as it chitters. It occurs to him that he’s hungry. He feels like he hasn’t eaten in days—maybe years. Time isn’t an exact measurement to him at the moment. 

The squirrel runs off. As if on instinct, he gets up to follow.

—

“Buck!” Chris yells for him as he pulls up to Eddie’s new house, having started the eleven hour drive to El Paso as soon as he was told what was going on over the phone. It wasn’t very clear or detailed, Chrisopher crying on the phone so hard that Helena had to take it from him and explain in very terse words that they hadn’t heard from Eddie in a week and that when they drove over to his place they hadn’t been able to find him anywhere, but it was enough. 

Buck rushes out of the car, running up to Chris and pulling him up into his arms for a nice, long hug. He only considers letting go when Helena clears her throat from beside them, giving him a polite—but clearly forced—smile. 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right? Buck?” She asks. Ramon is beside her, looking at him inquisitively. He wonders if they remember him from when they came to take Chris to Texas, Buck defeatedly handing over the teen’s bag. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry for not starting with an introduction, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz.” 

Christopher shakes his head, grabbing Buck’s arm, “There isn’t any time,” he drags him inside the house with a surprising amount of force. They pass through the living room and kitchen, before ending up at the backdoor. They go through this one too, ending at the back of the house where Eddie’s abuela is standing.

“Oh,” he says, “Isabel.”

“Buck,” her eyes are soft, “It’s good to see you. Thank you for making the drive over.”

“Of course, I—I would’ve offered to bring Pepa with me, but I didn’t even think about that before—“

Isabel waves her hand, cutting him off, “It’s alright. Josephina won’t be coming. And even if she was, her back wouldn’t be able to handle the drive. Mi hija is getting older by the second.”

All three of them are silent for a minute, Isabel refocusing her attention to the water heater she’s standing in front of while Chris moves anxiously back and forth on his feet. Buck is the one who breaks the silence, “Do you guys have an idea of what happened? I didn’t really explain anything to anyone before I left, but if we think Eddie’s hurt I could call the 118 and—“

“What would they do? It’s not like they can bring the firetruck.” Chris mutters.

“Christopher, be polite.” Isabel lectures gently, “But he’s right, they won’t be able to do anything as firefighters in El Paso. Look here,” she points down at the bottom of the water heater. Buck follows her finger, and his breath catches when he spots what appears to be dried blood on the edge. Tracing it downwards, the stains seem to continue onto the grass, before disappearing into the forest. “You know what that is?”

“Blood,” Buck answers pitifully, before quickly glancing at Chris. He doesn’t seem to be shocked by it, face molded into an empty look of acceptance, “Why aren’t the police here?”

“They were, but the stains are old and it isn’t objectively clear what they are. It could easily be rust, or from an animal. They need time to have it tested.” 

“That’s not what rusted metal looks like.”

She hums, “That’s what I said. His phone was left here too, so they’re planning to do a scan on that as well. But, right now, since Eddie’s an adult and there’s no real evidence suggesting he could’ve been taken, they can’t do anything.”

So Eddie could be anywhere; maybe he’s getting tortured by kidnappers with a vendetta, or just a serial killer with a tendency to make things slow and painful for their victims, or he could simply already be dead, buried in the woods or thrown in the river. It makes Buck feel sick. Maddie’s kidnapping had only been a month or two ago, and she’d barely survived that, and now Eddie could be dealing with the same thing at this very moment?

They’ve lapsed into another silence, but this time it’s Isabel who puts an end to it, putting a hand on Christopher’s back and telling him to go into the kitchen. He frowns, turning back to his bisabuela, “I want to stay here with you two.”

“I need to speak with Buck, mijo. Please.”

He looks between the two of them, before huffing out a sigh of defeat, “Okay,” Chris nods, “But I’m glad you’re here, Buck.”

“I’m glad too. Just maybe not under these circumstances.” He laughs humorlessly and Chris does the same before going back into the house through the backdoor. Isabel watches him leave, then focuses on Buck.

“Buck, I trust you very much,” She says, looking at him seriously, “And I know that you’re the exact person who can handle this job right now.”

“Thank you, but I don’t know what job—“

“I know where Eddie is,” Isabel cuts him off, getting right to the chase, “I know he is in danger, and you’re the only one that can help him right now. Christopher is a good kid, and he wanted you to come here, but he wasn’t sure if he should call or not. I was the one who urged him to. I need you to do this for me. Do you understand, Evan?”

Sorry, what? “You know where Eddie is?”

“Not for sure, but I have a suspicion. You can help me prove it. I regularly visit both a curandera and a bruja, and my bruja says you have some magic within you. Is that true?”

And that’s a—Well, that’s a bit of a complicated question. 

When Buck was a kid, he quickly came to realize that he wasn’t very normal. Nor was the rest of his family, though they knew how to hide it better than he did. When he’d cry as a kid, it’d cause the water in the house to go haywire, turning off and on again and again until it snapped back into place. If he got angry at a classmate for not sharing their toy, the lights would flicker and whir hard enough that they’d freak, shove it in his hands, and run away. Whenever he laughed, his hair would start to frizz before straightening back up on a hiccup. 

He never saw the rest of his family going through the same thing (except for when his mom was sad, she’d cause the plants around them to wilt, but that was most of the time anyways, so it was hard to distinct which plants were dead from natural causes and which had met the end of her black thumb), but he figured they had to have at some point. Maddie had reassured him of this once, telling a story about how when she was four and scared of going down a slide, she’d slid down and ended up hovering midair while their parents frantically tried to get her back down without anybody noticing the child floating above them.

His quirks lasted a lot longer than most witches, seeing as his parents weren’t too keen on teaching him how to handle them. Maddie was the one who taught him the basics, and once she left, he didn’t really have a reason to practice.

By the time she came back he’d not bothered practicing much magic at all except from a few quick and easy spells—Keeping food heated up without having to stick it into the microwave, he could do that with a flick of the hand. Anything else? He’d need a spell book and some time and faith. Most days, he didn’t even think about the fact that he had witch blood. He certainly hadn’t been thinking about it just a second ago. 

So it was a complicated question with a complicated answer, and he explained just as much to Isabel, ending on the inquiry of: “Wait, how did your bruja know?”

All she did was smile, “She has her ways. Now, come with me—I’ll tell you how we can help Eddie.”

—

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t even know who he is, not anymore. It’s all faded away into hunger and bloodlust. There’s still some light outside right now as the sun sets, so he’s tucked himself away to avoid exposing himself to it. When it’s dark again, he’ll go out and hunt. That’s how he’s been doing it each night.

Every once in a while, when his teeth sink into another innocent creature and the blood touching his tongue allows him to clear his mind enough to have an actual coherent thought, it strikes him that he doesn’t actually enjoy hunting. There’s still some shred of humanity left within him, but it fades away just as quickly as it comes. He’s a monster now, and monsters only care about feeding.

He hears something in the distance, the crinkle of leaves and the tapping of footsteps. It’s loud, louder than most of the sounds in the forest. When animals move around, it takes him some effort to locate where they are. Like this, he can hear whatever it is coming around the corner distinctly and clearly. It has to be a human, then. 

He’s never had a human before. He can’t find it in himself to be very picky. Not when the hunger within him is so ever present. 

“Los que tienen hambre no pueden ser melindrosos. If it wants to eat, it will.” 

The words ring out in his head, but he can’t remember who said them to him. All he can focus on now, as the footsteps come closer and closer, is preparing himself to strike.

A blinding light hits his face and he quickly ducks down, shielding himself. The leaves that were covering his shelter have been pushed away—somebody’s entered. He can smell them; he was right, it was a human.

“Eddie?” The person says, voice deep and masculine. He whimpers at the name, it sounds familiar, as does the voice, yet he can’t figure out why.

The man looks over at him upon hearing his whimpering, eyes widening. He’s holding a lantern in one hand, the source of the blinding light, and a large bag in the other.

“Eddie,” he kneels down in front of him, setting his bag down and bringing the lantern closer. His hands touch his skin, bringing warmth to his cold body, “Your abuela sent me. I’m going to help you, I promise.”

It occurs to him that this man has to be stupid, because his free hand is now caressing his face, right by where his mouth is. Like this, he’s close enough to get a better grasp on the scent of his blood. It’s intoxicating. 

In one fell swoop he flips the man onto his back, pinning him down onto the ground beneath them. He opens his mouth, exposing his sharp fangs and long tongue as he prepares himself to bite this man straight in the neck and suck out all blood he can—

Something hits him in the face, some sort of powdery substance that makes his eyes water enough for him to squeeze them shut and fall back. Within a second, he’s rendered incapable of movement, frozen still. 

“Sorry,” the man apologizes, “That won’t last for long, didn’t have a lot of that powder. Just had to make sure you didn’t end up eating me, would’ve been, uh,” he chuckles, “Pretty awkward for the both of us.” 

He seems to have zipped open his bag, a vial of the powder he’d blown into his face within his grasp. The lantern fell to the side when he pounced, and the light is now allowing him to watch as the man gets himself up off the ground and digs into his bag, pulling out a large book and even more vials of powder alongside some liquids.

His body is still stuck, but he growls as the man comes closer, once again putting his hands on his face, “Isabel told me that you’d understand what I’m saying, but you wouldn’t be able to comprehend it or speak back to me. But, uh—I feel weird not saying anything at all, so—I’m still going to explain what I’m doing,” he shows him one of the liquids from his bag, red and pure, it’s blood, though not just any kind, “I’m going to help you drink this. It’s witches blood, my own. It’ll clear your mind for longer than normal blood would.”

The man pops open the vile, opening his mouth and carefully pouring it in, not allowing any to fall out and be wasted. It’s delicious. He’s never tasted anything greater, “Swallow it all down, please. I need you to be able to talk to me.” 

Eventually all of the blood has been emptied out of the vial. The man taps the back of it in an effort to get any lagging drops onto his tongue, before tossing it into his bag and stepping back.

His body feels like it’s vibrating, the meal he’s just had making him feel rejuvenated and untethered. His hunger is the most satiated it’s ever been and he looks up to the man who has just fed him and says, in a scratchy unused voice, “Buck.”

—

Buck exhales, relief filling his lungs as he finally hears Eddie’s voice. It’s odd, hearing it come from a hulking canine form with big shining red eyes, piercing teeth, and spikes trailing up and down his back, but it's Eddie, undeniably so.

“Buck, where—“ Eddie’s voice dissolves into whimpers, distress evident, “where am I? What happened? Why—“ he looks down at his hands, then back up at Buck, “What am I?”

Isabel and her bruja hadn’t prepared him for this part when they’d been briefing him on what had to be done, and hadn't explained to him that he’d have to watch the fear in Eddie’s eyes as it occurred to him what he now was—though maybe that should’ve been self-explanatory. It’s painful, and Buck wishes he could take it all away and bare it himself, “You were bitten by a chupacabra. The venom to become one spread to you when the creature was sucking your blood, but I can help you.”

“Can you fix it?” He asks.

“I can suppress it. I have a spellbook with me, that’ll tell me how to draw a seal on your body. I do that with my powders and you’ll be back to normal in an hour or so. It won’t get rid of it,” Buck admits, “But it’ll make it so you only have to transform at certain times on certain days, kinda like a werewolf, and it’ll replace the urges you get.”

Eddie shakes his head, “So I’m gonna be a monster for the rest of my life …” It’s hard for him to visibly frown with the snout he now has, but Buck can tell that that’s what he’s trying to do, “And how are you going to replace the urges? Even now I still feel it, I’m satiated but—but sooner or later I’m going to have to feed again. The bloodlust hasn’t stopped. Actually, how are you even going to be drawing a seal? You know magic? That’s real?”

Buck chooses to answer the latter question first, “You got bitten by a chupacabra and have now become one, I think that should be answer enough about the validity of magic and whatever other fantastical beings. And I have witches' blood within me, my whole family does. I don’t practice it, not really. But I’m willing to do this for you. I want to do this for you, Eddie.”

He looks into Eddie’s eyes, trying to convey just how passionately he feels about this. Buck would do anything for Eddie. Anything. Which brings him to his next point, “As for the urges … It’s not exactly ideal how I’m going to do it, I’m sorry. But I can make it easier for you to enjoy it.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“No, it—it’s a different kind of lust. Right now you have a longing for blood, but as I’m drawing the seal, I’ll make it so that you lust for, er, intimacy.”

Eddie blinks, and with his eyes so unnaturally wide, Buck thinks it looks a bit funny, “So I’m going to be horny?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “Basically.”

“And why is how you’re going to do it ‘not ideal’?”

“I’m going to have to,” Buck makes a jerking gesture with his hand, “Y’know. It’s to distract you enough that it’s all you long for, and I know it probably isn’t what you want because you’re straight, but I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t what needed to happen, I swear, Eddie.”

“That …” Eddie trails off, looking around at their surroundings. They’re in some sort of cave, deep in the woods that surrounded his house. Buck had spent hours searching for him, trying to let his rusty magic guide him to the right spot. 

“I can’t live like this forever,” he says, “I want to see my kid, and I don’t want to be hungry, I don’t want to kill or hunt, I knew that even when I was stuck in the brain of a monster. So it’s okay, do whatever you need.”

Buck nods, going back to his spell book and flipping through its pages, “We don’t have a lot of time before your hunger comes back in full force, so I need to draw the seal now.” He lands on the page he needs, setting the book down to the side of Eddie and then grabbing the powder, "Everything's gonna be okay.” 

Buck’s spent a lot of time speaking and explaining, so the clarity in Eddie’s mind won’t last for much longer. He needs to get this finished quickly.

Eddie is already sat up against the wall of the cave, so he spreads Eddie’s legs and kneels between them, dipping a finger in the powder as he starts to work on drawing the seal on Eddie’s leathery stomach. His other hand goes downwards to one of the patches of fur on Eddie’s body, where his soft cock is tucked away. He wraps his hand around it, feeling the weight of it in his palm. Even without being hard, it’s large and heavy. Eddie gasps at the touch of Buck’s hand, dissolving into a moan when he begins to gently stroke. 

In this form, Eddie’s dick isn’t the only part of his that’s bigger than usual. When he’d first spotted him, he’d registered just how hulking he was, but it wasn’t as apparent until now when he’s kneeling in front of him. Eddie’s torso is significantly longer, his legs too, and Buck would guess that he’s at least a foot—maybe two—taller than him. With each jerk of his hand, Eddie’s torso bends, looming over Buck.  

“Buck,” he grunts, “I—I don’t think we have a lot of time left.” 

Shit. The seal wasn’t anywhere near close to being finished, Buck had only just started. If Eddie’s hunger was ready to resurface at any minute, it’d ruin everything. 

“Try to fight it, okay?” he digs his thumb into the head of Eddie’s cock, gathering the precum to make the movements smoother. Now that he was getting closer to reaching full hardness, it was getting difficult to fully wrap his hand around the length. 

Eddie bucks his hips up, trying to thrust into Buck’s grip and whimpering when Buck uses his arm to keep him down, “Buck.” 

“I can’t let you move when I’m drawing the seal, it could mess it up,” he dips the finger of his other hand into the powder once again, carefully adding more to the seal, “I’m sorry.”

He knows Eddie is trying, can see it in how his thighs are straining and how his whole body seems to have veins popping out. If he really wanted to, Eddie could push him off and have his way. But he hasn’t—Not yet. He wants this seal to work just as much as Buck does, probably even more.

Buck has to distract him more, it’s the only way he’ll be able to get it drawn in time. He takes another glance at the spell book, memorizing the rest of the design, before ducking down and licking a stripe over Eddie’s cock. He groans, claws scratching against the dirt ground. 

He wouldn’t possibly be able to wrap his mouth around the whole of Eddie’s cock, but he gets the tip down the best he can, bobbing his head as he keeps his eyes peeled open, ensuring that the seal is kept clear and detailed as he continues to work on it.

“You,” Eddie doesn’t seem quite sure of what to do with his hands, reaching his fingers up to bury themselves in Buck’s hair before throwing them back down as if he doesn’t trust himself to not use the leverage to his advantage, “You look so fucking good like this, fuck.”

Buck does his best to say “thank you” with the dick stuffed in his mouth, the vibrations causing Eddie to groan again. His hand is still stroking what he can’t fit, saliva dripping from his mouth and mixing with the precum and making everything even stickier.

He flicks his tongue against the head and Eddie bucks his hips again, Buck unable to stop him this time as he fucks into his mouth, causing him to choke. He doesn’t quite care about that, though, instead whipping his hand away from the seal to not fumble the design as his eyes squeeze shut.

“Sorry,” Eddie cries, but he does it again, unable to help himself, “Feel so good I can’t—Buck—“ 

“It’sokay,” he coughs, taking his mouth off Eddie’s dick and quickening his strokes, “I’m almost done, Eddie. Almost done.” His other hand goes back to the powder, sketching the last parts of the seal. Whereas with the first lines he was out of practice and trying to keep it slow, now he’s drawing confidently and hurriedly. He can’t let Eddie lose clarity without the seal being finished, so he’s willing to take risks and be more haphazard.

All at once, with one last stroke of both his hand over Eddie’s dick and and his finger over his stomach, the seal is finished and Eddie is coming all over his face, dick twitching as he runs out of breath. 

“Buck,” the growling edge is making its way back into his voice, “I don’t—The hunger, it isn’t—“

“It’s okay,” Buck reassures him, “It’ll only last for an hour, then everything will be sealed away.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” he says, “Just trust yourself.”

Buck wipes the cum off of his face, licking it off his hand and watching as Eddie fully lets go into the hunger.

—

Letting the hunger and lust overtake him feels easy, and once it has, he isn’t quite sure why he was stopping himself from letting it happen in the first place. His mind settles, hyper focused on one thing: Buck.

All other concerns are thrown to the side as he swaps their positions, pinning him to the cave wall and scanning his eyes up and down the other’s body. He registers the clothes that he’s wearing—a hoodie, joggers, and some tennis shoes—and decides that he wants them all off immediately. 

He starts with the hoodie, pulling it off Buck’s body with speed before refocusing his efforts on the joggers. They won’t come off just from pulling, and he won’t be able to muster the precision to untie Buck’s shoes to give the joggers the space to slide off with how long his fingers are, so he’s just about ready to rip them with his claws before Buck puts a hand on his own, stopping him.

He growls, and Buck quickly bends down to get his shoes untied and throw them off before pulling his pants down, “I know you’re straight so I, um, I wanted to make it easier for you to enjoy this, and so,” his boxers come off too, throwing them in the same pile, “I did a spell.” 

Curiously, he moves closer to look between his thighs, where in the place of the genitals he would’ve expected for Buck to have is a pussy, already turned on and wet from sucking him off earlier, “I figured you would like this, since it’s what you’re familiar with. If you want me to switch it back I can, though, with a snap of my fing—ah—“

Hungrily he picks Buck up by thighs and brings them up to wrap around his face, balancing on his shoulders and squeezing tight around his neck as buries his tongue into the awaiting cunt. Buck whines, fingers wrapping around his canine ears as he devours him. 

“Eddie—“ Right, he’d almost forgotten, that’s his name, Eddie. “I—Ungh—“

He wants to ask if Buck has ever done this before, if he’s ever used magic, changed his own body and played with himself like this or gotten somebody to fuck him, or if Eddie’s the first; the first to bury himself inside and stake his claim. He wants to be. He needs to be. 

Buck’s taste is something Eddie could’ve only dreamed of. It doesn’t feel real just how good it is. Before, when Buck had been pouring a vial of his blood into his mouth he’d thought that that had been the greatest thing he’d ever tried. He was wrong, because this is the greatest. He lets his tongue elongate, the way he usually only does when he wants to suck a wound dry of its blood, flicking it inside Buck and relishing in the feeling of him gasping and squeezing his thighs even tighter around him.

As much as he is hungry for his own lust, he’s even hungrier for Buck’s. Watching him fall apart because of him, being able to taste the arousal that Eddie’s brought to him, it’s beautiful, like watching a masterpiece being painted before him. 

Buck brings his hand down, trying to get a finger to rub at his clit, but Eddie shoves him away with his head, instead bringing up one of his own hands to do it. He bends his fingers so as to not accidentally cut Buck with his claws—his brain might be so deep in his monstrous state that he can’t even speak, but he knows that he doesn’t want to hurt Buck—flicking his clit with his knuckles as his tongue continues to lap inside of him. 

Pushing his tongue back closer to the entrance of Buck’s pussy, he presses it upward against the walls of his cunt, targeting his g-spot and listening as his moans become more pronounced and rapid, “That’s so,” Eddie adds even more pressure with his tongue, Buck’s voice cracking, “So good. I’m gonna—gonna—“

Buck’s legs tighten around him again, as does his cunt, clenching down on his tongue, before they shoot out on either of Eddie’s shoulders with the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground as he comes being the tight grip of one of Eddie’s arms wrapped around his waist. Eddie stays inside as he orgasms, sucking in all the juices and ejaculate eagerly.

Eventually he lowers Buck down onto the ground, watching as his chest heaves from the strength of his orgasm. His cock is aching and he wraps his hand around it and strokes to alleviate some of the pressure before settling down between Buck’s legs. Like this, he dwarfs him, torso fully covering the length of his body as he bends down.

He rubs the tip of his cock over the folds of Buck’s pussy, the wetness easing the glide back and forth. Buck whimpers from the stimulation, biting down on his lip.

He wants to ask Buck if it’d be too much for him, considering how much larger his cock is in this form, and Buck’s cunt looks so small like this he thinks he might break him. But he still can’t find the ability within him to form words, so instead he grunts and continues to thrust against Buck.

If he wanted to, he could come like this. He feels electrified, the lust fueling his body and making him feel crazy with want. The movements of his hips pick up, going faster and faster before—

“Ah!” Buck yelps, hands going up to scratch at his back as the head of Eddie’s cock slips inside of him. He hadn’t meant to do that, he really hadn’t, but now that he’s already inside he can’t imagine stopping. He pulls his cock back before shoving more of it in, breaching Buck and groaning as he feels the warmth pulsing around him.

Buck’s seemingly at a loss below him, alternating between trying to shove himself down onto Eddie’s dick and trying move himself away from it, muttering nonsensically about how good it feels. Eddie isn’t even halfway in yet, and he already isn’t sure if more of him is going to fit inside. He needs it to, though, so he lifts up on his hind legs enough to give him some leverage before rocking himself back down and shoving it in to the hilt, hitting a wall inside of Buck that seems to set his nerves alight as he keens. 

He does it again, thrusting against that wall and feeling as it gives, the head of his cock nearly popping through as Buck convulses around him, “Eddie,” he whines, “Eddieeee, I don’t—I think you’re fucking into my—“ he does it again, and this time his cock does pop through, Buck jolting up with a scream and bringing his hand down to hurriedly massage his clit as he comes again and squirt juts out all over Eddie, cunt clenching down around him and causing him to come inside, grunting deeply.

He gives a few more thrusts to push his cum in deeper, once, twice, before freezing as the two of them let out twin groans.

Eddie barely stops himself from collapsing onto Buck, arms supporting him as he instead pulls out and gently lays on top of him like a blanket, rubbing his snout against Buck’s neck.

“Good?” He rasps out, finally finding his voice. 

Buck nods, weakly snapping his fingers, “Yeah. Good.”

Eddie peaks down, noting how the snap of his fingers has chased his genitals to go back to how they should be, dick flaccid and seemingly unaffected by the barrage of thrusts Eddie was inflicting on Buck’s cunt. From the back of his throat, he whimpers. He wanted to see the evidence of what he’d done to Buck.

Buck hums tiredly at his whimper, looking at him curiously, “What is it?” His voice is also raspy, but from his moaning rather than any monster shifting like Eddie.

“Wanted to see,” he huffs out, full sentences still not coming easy to him.

“Oh,” Buck looks surprised, “Sorry. I already magic-ed it away, so I don’t think it’d look like it did just now with all of our, y’know, if I brought it back.”

That’s a shame. Eddie figures his cunt would be sore, anyway, which is probably why Buck got rid of it so quickly. He still wants to see evidence of Buck’s pleasure, though, so he brings one of his large hands down to the other’s cock, looking at Buck pleadingly.

“You wanna …?” He trails off, “Eddie, you’re straight. You don’t have to touch my dick if you don’t want to. I promise you made me feel good already.”

“Wanna make you come again.” Eddie says, “Please?”

The look of surprise still hasn’t quite left Buck’s face, but he nods, spreading his legs and letting Eddie wrap his fist around him.

It’s a slower build than their previous orgasms, less hurried and more just about observing the look on Buck’s face as Eddie strokes him to completion, how his breaths stutter and his cheeks pinken up as Eddie whispers praises into his ear, vocabulary steadily returning to him as the minutes pass. 

By the time Buck comes again, cum getting over his torso and Eddie’s hand, Eddie’s back to his normal human self, looking at Buck adoringly.

Buck seems to be more bashful, dodging Eddie’s eye contact and sitting up from the ground.

“How are you feeling?” He asks Eddie, brushing some of the dirt off his back, “I probably should’ve brought a blanket.” 

“I definitely would’ve just clawed it up,” Eddie grins, “I’m feeling good, thanks to you.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the cum off of it if only to see Buck’s flustered reaction as he stands up, nearly slipping in his hurry.

“Well, of course,” he stutters, “You’re my best friend. I wanted to help. Would’ve sucked if you were a monster in the woods for the rest of your life.”

“What are we gonna do when I have to transform again? You said I would have to at certain times. You’ll help me, still?”

Buck nods, “Of course. Unless you find somebody else you’d want to help you.”

“No,” Eddie stands as well, grabbing Buck’s attention from where he’s been putting his clothes back on, “I just want you.”

“Eddie …”

“I’m serious. I don’t think anybody would’ve been able to have done what you did. Not even just because you’re a witch, but because you’re you,” He cups Buck’s cheeks, bringing him in for a quick peck on the lips, the first one they’ve been able to share despite doing significantly more risqué things for the whole evening, “Thank you, Buck.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles back, leaning down for another kiss.

—

Buck brings Eddie back to his house soon after, watching as he tearfully reunites with Christopher and they promise each other to never let the distance between them grow so far ever again. It turns out that Eddie isn’t very up to staying at the house, so instead he, Buck, and Christopher all go to Isabel’s place.

She welcomes them all with a smile on her face and open arms, hugging Eddie for especially long and giving Buck a grateful nod as he returns the supplies and spellbook that he’d borrowed from her bruja.

At night, when Buck goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water before heading to bed, Isabel is already there, stirring a cup of some herbal tea.

“Give this to Edmundo,” she says, handing it to Buck, “He’ll know what it is.”

And he does, smiling fondly as Buck presents the teacup to him and drinking the whole thing up.

They both sleep easy that night.