Red Riding Hood

Chapter Five: "Sweetest Tongue, Sharpest Tooth"

The yard had weapons and targets laying around that were in the process of being set up eventually. Patting him on the back, Geralf told him boldly. "Excuse the mess. We're still trying to get settled in. We're a bit behind with this recent attack... but evil never sleeps." Grabbing the collar of his cloak, Geralf stopped him and gestured him to stay. Jack obeyed and Geralf moved off to set up a wooden shield on a stand. Removing a hand ax from it, Geralf asked him curiously. "You have any experience with any kind of weapons, little Red? Or did daddy not want you playing with big boy toys?" Jack glanced at a table that Geralf was headed toward. There a rolled out bundle of weapons sat unattended. Geralf tossed the daggers down on the table, gesturing to them like he wanted him to pick one. Slowly walking over, Jack scanned the table, then picked up a dagger. Turning it over in his hand to feel the weight of it. Geralf snorted to himself, chuckling out after. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. Daggers are for people that like getting up close and personal. And I don't think you have the-" Jack's anger flared, but he turned and threw the dagger with a level head. Putting all his anger and frustration into the throw alone. The dagger whizzed through the air, before hitting the painted center of the wooden shield so hard that it fell off the stand.

Geralf's jaw dropped, and Jack snatched up another dagger to stab it into the wooden table between Geralf's fingers. Geralf jerked his head to look at him with a guarded look, while Jack finally answered with bitterness in his voice. "My name is Jack. And yes. I have played with knives. I know what it takes to use them." Yanking the knife out of the wooden table, Jack added flatly. "And no. You don't need to be close to use them. You just can't miss." Geralf gawked at him, before asking coolly. "Where did you learn to play with knives?" Jack dropped the dagger on the table and slowly walked away to retrieve the other, answering dismissively over his shoulder. "I'm a baker. I use knives all the time." Geralf huffed, retorting bluntly. "I've never seen bakers use knives like that." Jack shrugged, grumbling out as he pulled the dagger free of the shield. "You've probably never seen a baker with a rat problem either." Geralf raised an eyebrow, asking neutrally. "You got good at throwing knives because you have a rat problem?" Jack smirked to himself, replying with a blush. "No. Because I 'had' a rat problem. I don't have one now." Geralf chuckled, asking curiously as Jack walked back to the table. "What did you do with the rats?"

Jack set the dagger down, mumbling out honestly to Geralf. "I might have cooked them into a meat pie and gave it to someone that pissed me off." Geralf raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to him when he asked in a soft whisper. "What did this person do that pissed you off enough to do such a thing?" Jack locked his eyes on Geralf now. He could tell what Geralf was doing. He was still interrogating him. Trying to figure out what kind of person he was. If he was evil in nature like the wolves he hunted. Without blinking or showing a trace of humor, Jack answered stony faced. "He called me a princess." Geralf stiffened, then let out a deep chuckle. Punching his shoulder, Geralf told him with amusement. "Funny. I like you." Lifting his hand to touch Jack's chin with the tips of his fingers, he stared into his eyes and purred out. "I'm sure you are quite the little rat killer... but a werewolf is a lot bigger than a rat. It will take a lot more to surprise him." Something on Geralf's leather gauntlet clicked softly, before a silver knife shot out toward Jack's face. The blade came short of Jack's nose, but Jack jerked backward from it in response anyway.

Stumbling, Jack fell on his ass with a startled cry. Geralf laughed heartily at him, then quickly stomped toward him. Grabbing the front of Jack's shirt, he yanked him close to his face and growled out in a sudden serious tone of voice. "Don't screw with me, boy. Unlike you father, I will strike you down. Rein in the attitude or I'll rein it in for you." Geralf shoved Jack flat across the dirt, straightening up to his full height as he told him openly. "And by the way, Princess. I happen to like rat meat." Geralf turned away from him, stating out lightly. "Stay here while I go find you a sparring partner that is... closer to your level." Geralf vanished into the barn, prompting Jack to throw up his middle finger in his direction. Slowly sitting up, Jack started muttering about the guy not being able to take a joke. Right up until a familiar voice cooed out. "You should quit while you are ahead, Jack." Scrambling up onto his feet, he whirled around to see Mark leaning on the fence. Storming up to him, he snapped out. "What are you stalking me now?" Mark blinked, then gestured to the board that he was leaning on. The board was newer than the others that made up the fence. Jack lowered his eyes to the ground with embarrassment.

Mark's voice was calm and collected when he stated out. "You should pick your friends more carefully. Guy's like that are bad news." Jack scoffed, placing his hands on the board, before blurting out a bit defensively. "I'm not trying to make friends. I'm just using him to get what I want. Which is to get out of here." Mark tapped his hammer against his shoulder, saying casually. "So, I've heard. But I highly doubt you are using him as much as he is using you. If you had friends, I'm sure they'd point that out for you." Mark crouched to rummage through his tools and Jack crouched too to reply swiftly. "And I'm supposed to trust your judgement? Was the guy last night not using you?" Mark's hand slipped on the hammer, causing it to bang loudly in the toolbox. Their eyes met and Jack smugly asked him. "That's right. I'm onto your little secret. Is that why you really don't want to see the bakery go? Are you afraid the new owner will find out what you've been doing out back?" Mark's startled look quickly faded, before he gathered up his things and dismissively replied. "I don't know what you're talking about." Getting to his feet, Mark started to walk away.

Upset that Mark dismissed his words so easily, Jack hopped the fence and walked after him, blurting out. "You know damn well what I'm talking about! Hey!" Jack grabbed his arm, yanking him to a stop. Mark stopped, then dropped his toolbox to shove Jack into the windmill. Jack fell back onto the bags of grain, then looked up as Mark stood menacingly in the only doorway in and out of the mill. Swallowing, Jack told him nervously. "You lay a hand on me, and I'll tell everyone you fuck boys." Mark closed the door as he stepped in, then slowly walked up to Jack. Jack pressed himself back into the firm bags of grain. He was terrified to look away from him. Crouching to be at his eye level, Mark casually whispered to him. "You don't want to do that." Jack shrugged, anxiously asking. "Why not...? You think no one will believe me? I've heard what they do to guys like you. The Devil's Whores. I don't believe the nonsense about people like you selling your souls for the ability to summon werewolves like the stories say... but what you are... it's just as unnatural as the werewolves that plague us." To Jack's surprise, Mark smirked. Shaking his head, Mark whispered to him nicely. "Who I find attractive has nothing to do with the werewolves. Although, Geralf and his huntsmen would have you think otherwise. But that's not why you shouldn't tell..."

Jack looked Mark over, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't see anything on him that could be used as a weapon. Mark placed his hands on the bags of grain by Jack's ribs, leaning closer to him. Jack instinctively laid back to avoid him, only finding himself more pinned down by him. Staring up into his beautiful brown eyes, Jack scolded himself. Mark was close enough to him that it made him weak in the knees. Mark had never been so close to him. Just the warm inviting smell of him was making his heart leap around in his chest. Mark smirked down at him through his long dark bangs, before whispering so deep and beautifully to him. "How long were you watching us?" Jack licked his dry lips, unable to make even a tiny sound. He wasn't even sure that he was breathing. Mark leaned closer, whispering with a wicked grin. "Curiosity killed the cat, Jack... Didn't your Granny ever tell you that?" Jack parted his lips to say something, then whimpered as Mark's lips lowered to touch his. Jack's whole body tensed beneath Mark and yet Mark was so calm about it. Mark's teeth lightly grazed his lower lip when he pulled back from the gentle kiss. It teased Jack's heart to have a kiss that was so fleeting and yet so powerful. He never imagined how breathless and weak his first kiss would leave his body in.

Mark calmly stared down at him, before telling him in a deep butter voice that was dripping with a smug confidence. "You won't be able to tell people, Jack... because they'll ask you for details... and I doubt a virgin like you can without getting hard." Jack sat up a little, starting to say bitterly. "You son of a-!" Mark cut him off by just coolly interjecting with a charming smile that made Jack swallow the rest of his words before he could get them out. "It's true, isn't it? I've never seen you with anyone... but I've seen you staring at me." Jack felt his face pale. Mark had noticed that? Mark's smile faded, when he whispered to him in a calm and almost loving tone. "Don't tell them about me... and I won't tell them about you." Jack blushed a deep red, mumbling out unconvincingly. "I'm not... You have no proof." Mark's eyebrow raised just a little, before he looked down. Instinctively, Jack crossed his legs and pulled his cloak over his waist to hide that he was hard. Avoiding his eyes, Jack mumbled out. "That doesn't prove anything..." Mark brought his lips closer to his ear to whisper lightly. "It does for guys like US."

Mark moved back, straightening himself up. Walking to the door, Mark opened it and added out to him in a warm voice. "Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth. Be careful, Jack. Wolves take on many disguises. If you're not careful. You'll be counted among them... and killed." Without another word, Mark slipped out, leaving Jack a flushed mess amongst the bags of grain. To Be Continued...