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It had been six months since Aurum had flooded with gold, and Kwat had finally gotten her footing after taking over the Pond as Boss. The two of them had been rescued from Aurum by a small party of Mod Frogs, sent out after not hearing any word from Sartori about Scarlemagne’s coronation. Were the Mod Frogs supposed to be there? They hadn’t heard from their boss, and they hardly trusted Scarlemagne enough to approach him directly. They got Harris and Kwat out of the small cell they had been locked in, but by that time, Sartori had already been taken away. They searched the building for her and found her, smothered in gold, killed in a horrific way.
With Sartori dead, Kwat and Harris had been two of the top Frogs, but there had still been some unrest over her taking over—especially seeing as some of the Frogs blamed her and Harris for Sartori’s death. There had been other Mod Frogs who wanted the position of Boss, but with Harris and her mate Miru backing her up, and a handful of other allies, Kwat had crushed the competition.
Since then, the Mod Frogs had mostly been keeping to themselves. They stayed in their territory and they kept their heads down, while listening to the spreading rumours through Cappuccino and a few other friendly mutes.
They’d heard about HMUFA, about Kipo’s PRAHM, about Emilia and the cured mutes.
Kwat had enough on her plate without getting involved in human-mute drama. But now it seemed like HMUFA wasn’t going away, and literally all the other mutes were involved. It was time for the Mod Frogs to see what all the fuss was about.
Harris had been at Kwat’s side since they’d left Aurum. Literally, for the most part. He’d been especially clingy since they’d returned. She knew he was missing Jamack, that he was a little adrift, but she couldn’t do anything to change that. So she let him stay near her without complaint, even when she could have done with some time alone, or with her mate. She knew he was missing his own mate, even if he’d never truly admitted that him and Jamack were together.
“We’re going to the Timbercat village,” she told him. “Grab us a dragonfly.”
Harris made an expression of distaste. “Why are we going there?” It didn’t help that he still wasn’t used to following Kwat’s orders, at least not immediately. It still chafed, especially if he gave in right away.
“We’re going to talk to the leaders of HMUFA.” What a ridiculous name. It seemed pretty obvious that it was an invention of that overly friendly burrow girl. “It’s about time we see what that’s all about, now that the human resistance has fallen apart.”
Harris groaned dramatically, tipping his head back. “Whyyyy?” he drawled. “We have a good thing here—everyone’s been leaving us alone, why don’t we just leave them alone?” He grinned ferally at her. “Until we want something of theirs, of course.” Just because things had changed within the Mod Frogs—and Harris still wasn’t sure he liked all the changes Kwat had imposed—that didn’t mean the Mod Frogs had to change in their dealings with other mute groups.
“The world’s changing, Harris, we have to keep up. If all the other groups have aligned themselves with Kipo, don’t you think it would be more dangerous for us if we didn’t? We don’t want to be their only enemy, we’ll get wiped out.”
He grunted. He knew she was right, but he didn’t want to just come out and admit it. “And you need me as your bodyguard.”
She grinned. “Just in case.” It was more that she knew he’d be a mess if she left and he was alone at the Pond, but she could definitely use his help if they were attacked.
*
Harris tried to keep his expression as blank as possible as they dismounted their dragonfly and strode into the Timbercat village. There was so much activity, so much happening, it was almost overwhelming. Harris found himself drawing breath more frequently, wishing he could narrow his vision down so he didn’t have to take in everything at once. It was disconcerting to see different kinds of mutes intermingling and talking freely, without fighting, outside of Ratland. Which had been destroyed. By Scarlemagne. Who was currently sitting in front of a mixed group of Timberkittens, snakelets, and other baby mutes. And small humans. He appeared to be telling them a story.
This wasn’t…natural. None of it was. It made his skin crawl like he was about to shed. He couldn’t wait to finish whatever business Kwat had here and get back to the Pond where things made sense. Only Frogs. Any other mute would get driven out—if they were lucky—and he didn’t think even Kwat’s new rules would change that.
Yet, said a small, unwelcome voice in his head, which he promptly drowned.
He blinked and shook his head, following Kwat closely.
Jamack had been talking to Puck when a pair of large red eyes caught his attention. He froze, suddenly deaf to whatever Puck was saying. Kwat and Harris were here. They were alive.
It felt like an eternity that he was frozen, unable to move, maybe even breathe. When his body finally relaxed, he croaked helplessly, hopping over to them as fast as he could and practically tackling them in an embrace.
Kwat only had a moment’s warning when she heard Jamack’s croak. She recognized his call immediately, but was still thrown to find him clutching her and Harris like he was about to be torn away. “Jamack!”
Harris’ head snapped up at the sound, but he didn’t have time to think, to even decide what he felt, never mind feel it, before Jamack hit them like an out-of-control car. He would have been knocked off his feet if he hadn’t had Kwat’s sturdy bulk behind him. Jamack. Jamack was alive. He was here.
Jamack was grinning, but his eyes were tearing up. “You’re alright. You’re both here. I thought you were dead!” He refused to let go of either of them, one arm around Harris’ waist, the other around Kwat’s arm. She was too big to properly hug.
Kwat gently removed Jamack from herself. “We’re fine.” She felt so strange, seeing Jamack like this. He’d been cast out, he wasn’t a Mod Frog anymore, but did that matter? Could she welcome him back, bring him home? Could she be honest about how she felt now? After a short pause she went with her gut. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
Harris was glad Kwat was talking, responding in some way. He was frozen, stiff as a bundle of twigs. Well, at least one twig.
He should move away from Jamack. But he didn’t want to. But he should. Should at least want to move away. But he didn’t, and now he was afraid that, if he moved, the bubble would burst, the dream would end, and Jamack would vanish. Again.
Kwat gave Harris a little grin to see him unable to move, wrapped up in Jamack’s arms.
Jamack came back to himself a little as Kwat nudged him away, realizing how inappropriate this was for Mod Frogs. Even if he wasn’t one, they still were. “I—” He stepped back, forcing himself to let go. “It’s good to see you both. You’re here to see Kipo, I’m guessing.”
Harris blinked once when Jamack let him go, but didn’t move, beyond that, or speak.
“She is the ring leader of this whole HMUFA business, isn’t she?” Kwat checked.
Jamack shrugged. “Molly has taken over a lot of that, Kipo’s getting some time off.” She needed it, after all she’d been through. She was still just a kid.
“I’ll deal with that,” Kwat said.
Jamack pointed her in the right direction.
Before Harris could follow her, she stopped him. “Why don’t you two talk? I’ll be awhile.” Harris wasn’t exactly helpful in negotiations, and these two had a lot to sort out.
Momentarily snapping out of his stupor, Harris shook his head. “But I’m here to protect…”
“She’s safe,” Jamack assured him. “There’s no danger here.” He felt like a fist was tightening inside his chest, squeezing his heart and lungs. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, seeing Harris again. He was glad, so glad, that he was alive, but after everything… Jamack wasn’t sure they should actually see each other.
“You’re here.” Harris hadn’t meant for it to sound like that meant there was danger here, but maybe he meant it. Just not danger to Kwat. Probably. He hadn’t seemed hostile, but Jamack was an expert at masking his feelings and backstabbing. Maybe he still resented Harris and Kwat for still being Mod Frogs, for not helping him after his tie was cut. Not that Harris hadn’t tried.
“Yeah,” Jamack laughed, “There’s really no one to fight anymore, though. Unless Kwat isn’t here to join, I guess, but she’s not stupid enough to bring just two of you if she was planning on a fight. What’s…what’s going on? Is she the boss now?”
Harris nodded, wishing he could take his eyes off Jamack, but he literally couldn’t, not without physically looking away, which Jamack would definitely notice. He couldn’t seem to get any words out, at least not when he wanted to.
Jamack waited for a long moment before realizing that Harris had frozen. “Let’s find somewhere quieter,” he suggested. He knew it was easy for Harris to get overwhelmed, and there were a lot of mutes around today. The Timbercats had invited everyone from every group for today. PRAHM had been exactly a month ago and though everyone was still mourning, it felt important to celebrate their victories and solidify their new alliances and friendships.
Jamack led Harris through the different camps, waving to Puck, who had been watching them from a distance. He was going to borrow Puck’s tent for a little privacy. He’d left his own tent where he’d been living, in the Terrarium, assuming that Puck would be happy to share with him while he was here.
Harris followed him silently, almost meekly. Sure, Jamack might be taking him somewhere private to kill him, but… But…would that really be so bad? He hadn’t realized just how shut down he’d been, how lost, without Jamack. He’d just been drifting through life, eating when Kwat reminded him to, sleeping when he dropped from exhaustion, with everything in between just an endless, greyish blur. But now Jamack… He hated even thinking it, it was unbearably mushy, but that didn’t make it any less true—Jamack brought colour back into the world.
Jamack held the tent flap aside for Harris, letting him into Puck’s vibrant tent. He sat on the sleeping pad and blankets, indicating the little nest Puck always kept across from his bed, for any guests to sit on while they visited. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, knowing that he was repeating himself but unable to keep the words in.
After hovering for a moment, awkwardly, Harris sat where Jamack had told him to. “I’m glad you’re alright,” Harris parroted.
Jamack laughed softly. “Yeah, it’s been…exciting. I’m glad it’s over.” The events were still bittersweet, with the losses they’d suffered, with no solution for the mutes who’d been reverted to animals, but they’d been victorious. He was still alive, and so were most of the people he cared about. Including Kwat and Harris, apparently. He was suddenly fighting tears and he coughed to cover it up. “How are things at the Pond?”
Harris gave a short, sharp bark of laughter, needing a moment before he could respond. “…Different,” he settled on finally, as he gave Jamack a quick once-over. No missing limbs, no new visible scars, still wearing his cut tie. Harris cocked his head to one side. “Why are you still wearing that?” he asked, pretending he didn’t notice that Jamack was crying, or that his own eyes were far damper than usual.
Jamack raised a hand to his tie, but didn’t touch it. “I—” He shrugged, laughing again, awkwardly. “I guess I wasn’t ready to take it off. I should have, so much has changed for me, but…” He shrugged again. “After I heard you and Kwat were dead, it was harder to let go of it.”
Harris blinked. “Dead?”
“You were at Aurum, right? They said no one stuck inside got out, Hugo’s Nobles were all killed, Sartori was gilded… How did you get out?”
Harris swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “They came and took the Boss away. We didn’t hear what happened to her until after. There was a lot of screaming and, and…noise, and then everything got very quiet. We were in the cell for days, alone.” He tried to tell it emotionlessly, like he was making a report. “Some Mod Frogs came looking when we didn’t come back. They found us and took us back to the Pond. Kwat’s in charge now. I…” What could he say about himself? “But you…” Harris gave a rather damp-sounding laugh. “I’ve heard that you were dead, alive, turned into a Mega, turned into a…well.” He looked down.
“Yeah,” Jamack said, dully, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I nearly was, a few of those things. I mean, I am alive, obviously. A lot happened. I can’t say I’m sorry about Sartori, but,” he hesitated, sighing, “it hurt so much to hear that you and Kwat had… I thought I’d come to terms with never seeing either of you again, never being…” What, friends? Mates? Harris so rarely admitted they had been either of those things, better not to push too far. “…Colleagues again. But it was so much worse to think you were gone.” He had repressed his grief for a long time, as best as he could, but once everything was over, once Emilia was dead and the humans and mutes had become allies, it had hit him hard and he’d been forced to spend some time actually dealing with it. Just like Puck had warned him would happen.
“I…” There was a lump in Harris’ throat that he had to swallow around before he could force any more words out. “I…” Of course, he couldn’t just come right out and say what he really wanted—I missed you. “I would like to be colleagues. Again,” he said rather stiffly and formally, but what else could he do, what else could he say? That was the option Jamack had offered, and he’d take what he could get as long as it meant Jamack wasn’t gone again.
Jamack’s expression grew tense. “Oh, I—” He grimaced. “I’m not going back,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to be a Mod Frog anymore.” As much as he’d missed Harris, there was no way he could go back to the Pond and try to pretend everything was normal again. There was no way he could ask Harris to leave his home, either, to leave his place in the world just for Jamack.
Harris blinked. Somehow it managed to come as a complete surprise and be totally expected at the same time. “Oh. I…” He shot Jamack a helpless, pleading glance. “What do you want to be?”
He laughed. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. “I’ve just been Jamack for the last few months, I guess.”
Harris laughed in return, hollowly. Just Jamack. Did that mean he could be just Harris? What would that mean? Where would he live? Who would he be?
No, it was all too much, too fast, too much… He shook his head. “What does just Jamack do?” he asked. “Does he live here?” He was probably prying a bit too much, but it was easier to ask questions, get Jamack talking, than having to stop and think his own thoughts.
He smiled a little. “I’ve been at the Terrarium for the last couple weeks. But before that, yeah, I was living here, or travelling with the TheaOtters.”
He’d been staying at the Terrarium. Harris’ heart somehow managed to plummet and soar at the same time, leaving him feeling dizzy and sick. He decided to focus on the other part of what Jamack had said. “What’s a…TheaOtter?”
“They’re Otters. And actors. They kind of took me in,” Jamack admitted. As pathetic as it sounded, he didn’t have to be untouchable anymore, he reminded himself. It was alright to admit he had needed help. Even as he told himself that he still felt weak watching Harris for a reaction.
“Actors,” Harris repeated, turning the thought over and over in his mind. He broke out into a grin, playfully reaching across to elbow Jamack the way he would have before, the way they used to. “Yeah, I can see that.” He immediately pulled away, hunched over, made himself small, went still, looked down. He had no right to that, no right to Jamack, not anymore. But oh, how he wanted.
Jamack grabbed Harris’ arm, not letting him pull away any further. He drew him into his arms in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too!” Harris wailed, as though it was being wrung out of him under torture. He couldn’t have held the words back if he wanted to, if he tried.
“Hey, it’s alright, we’re here, we’re safe,” Jamack soothed him, stroking a hand over the back of Harris’ head in a familiar gesture. He couldn’t help himself. He pressed a kiss just above Harris’ nostrils, almost between his eyes.
Harris wrapped his arms around Jamack, quickly followed by his legs. He burrowed his head beneath Jamack’s lower jaw, pressing them as close together as they could get. It was something he’d done before during their years together, but this time felt different. Weighty. Significant. It was terrifying, but Harris didn’t pull away. He kissed Jamack’s chest, letting out a slow, heavy sigh.
Jamack couldn’t help mirroring Harris, letting out a breath. He really hadn’t intended to do any of this, to hold Harris, certainly not to kiss him, but now that they were touching he couldn’t make himself let go. He tilted Harris’ head back and kissed him properly.
Harris’ sigh turned to one of relief for an instant before he stopped breathing and kissed Jamack back. He closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of Jamack’s mouth against his, Jamack’s scent—so familiar and like his own, yet utterly different. He let out a wordless whimper against Jamack’s mouth, pawing at Jamack’s clothes almost desperately.
Jamack’s good intentions were quickly shunted to the side and he undressed both of them in a rush, kissing Harris’ skin as it was exposed, running his hands over him eagerly. His breaths were coming fast and he was trembling, struggling with every damned button.
Harris practically swooned against Jamack once their skins were bare, his head resting on Jamack’s shoulder. He felt…passive, which wasn’t an emotion or feeling he’d experienced often in his life. He was terrified that if he moved wrong, too much, too quickly, he’d frighten Jamack away and never see him again. For real, this time. He allowed Jamack’s hands to wander and explore him, keeping his fingers curled over Jamack’s shoulders, barely moving.
Jamack stroked his hands down Harris’ chest, but he hesitated when Harris seemed to be frozen again. He paused, kissing him again, tenderly.
Eyes wide and uncharacteristically soft, Harris kissed him back with just as much tenderness. He hummed a soft approval, his hands sliding from side to side across Jamack’s shoulders, individual fingers making brief forays up Jamack’s neck.
When they both finally pulled away to breathe, they were panting a little. Jamack had a little grin on his face. His erection had slipped free of his cloaca and he couldn’t help grinding against Harris’ thigh.
“Oh. Ohhh,” Harris gasped, spreading his legs and giving Jamack more to rut against. His own erection was most of the way out, his cloaca slick with need already.
“Fuck,” Jamack breathed.
“Fuck,” Harris agreed, slowly and emphatically.
Jamack briefly untangled their legs, long enough to line his body up with Harris’ and nudge the tip of his erection against Harris’ entrance.
Harris nodded eagerly, eyes still wide and vulnerable.
For a few moments Jamack just let his tip glide down where Harris’ cloaca opened to him and then out and back up, their erections sliding against each other.
“Please, Jamack, please!” Harris whined. Really, if this was the extent Jamack planned on punishing him, he knew he’d gotten off lightly—no pun intended—but all the same he couldn’t stand it. Jamack had always been good at teasing, every way and every form, and it drove Harris mad.
With a low groan, Jamack let his erection press into Harris’ slick opening. “Oh, fuck, oh, Harris.” It felt so good, his skin so perfectly soft and smooth, his muscles tightening around him, pulling him deeper. Every touch, every sensation Harris lit in him was so familiar and safe and overwhelmingly good.
Harris let himself relax as soon as he felt Jamack slide home, aware that he probably should have done it the other way around. Jamack wasn’t going to tease him. Not now, not yet. Anything else he could handle. A sound escaped him, partway between a laugh and a sob. No, he couldn’t. He didn’t think he could handle very much at all right now, actually. He wanted this, just this, nothing more and nothing less.
As soon as he’d adjusted to Jamack filling him—it had been a long time—Harris rocked forward, draping his arms over Jamack’s back so he couldn’t escape. He pulled them so close that nothing could come between them.
Jamack wrapped Harris up in his arms just as eagerly, refusing to let him go. They only moved enough for him to slide out of Harris a few inches before thrusting back into him. He was already overwhelmed, already close, digging his fingertips into Harris’ skin, possessively.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harris hissed, coming completely undone as he was caught between the delicious pain of Jamack’s fingers biting his skin and the feeling of Jamack deep inside him, spreading him wide and taking him.
“I’m close, I’m close,” Jamack moaned.
Harris was moved beyond words, so he could only nod.
Jamack pressed desperate kisses across Harris’ shoulder, meeting his eyes briefly before digging in his teeth, biting him hard.
Harris’ eyes got even wider and he came with a scream, head flung back as he rode the waves of pain and pleasure, unsure if he was imagining the warmth spreading from the bite, from his centre, or if he was actually glowing.
Jamack came in him, clenching his jaw even tighter before finally releasing Harris with a gasp. “Oh,” he panted. They were still completely entwined, and Jamack didn’t want to ever move again.
Harris cried out again when Jamack let go, his whole body spasming as a second climax crashed over him. Finally he was still, nestled in Jamack’s arms, panting, eyes tightly closed and covered with both pairs of eyelids.
Jamack’s hands wandered slowly, stroking Harris’ skin in the same worshipful way that he always had in the past.
Harris hummed with pleasure, letting out a thoughtful sigh. He smiled against Jamack’s shoulder. “You know…that Terrarium isn’t really ideal for you,” he said boldly, hands tightening on Jamack’s sides.
Jamack snorted. “Well, I did fix it for you.” He paused. “Are you… You’d want to stay with me? Outside of the Pond?”
Harris felt his world teeter, knowing he had the power to make it tip one way…or the other. It was a heady, wild feeling and he hated it.
He couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, so he could only nod with his face buried against Jamack’s shoulder.
Jamack nuzzled in against Harris, kissing him softly. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too!” Harris kissed him back, practically shouting.
Jamack laughed quietly, keeping Harris wrapped tightly in his arms, even as his erection grew soft and slipped out of Harris’ cloaca. He had concerns, he knew their relationship might not ever be what he wanted, but for now he was just so happy to know Harris was alive, to have the chance to do this again, that he didn’t want to ruin it with words or fears.