Categories > Celebrities > Def Leppard > Moonlight #2: In the Still of the Night

Chapter Two

by Brambleshadow 0 reviews

Category: Def Leppard - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover,Drama,Fantasy - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2013-04-14 - 4282 words

Chapter Two

Sav's gaze held Joe's for a moment longer, then dropped to a safer place—nose, mouth, shoulders. He'd known Joe's secret ever since he'd accidentally walked in on him on a full moon night—Change Night, some called it—to find Joe halfway into the lupine state, and had been involved in all sorts of crazy since then, but these past three days made some past events seem downright normal. Being claimed by an alpha werewolf, the complexities of his relationship with said 'wolf, and the stress of being on tour coupled with the full moon . . . This was definitely one of the strangest tours he'd ever been on.

"I don't suppose you want to tell me exactly what you were doing before we were interrupted," he mumbled.

"It's fairly obvious, don't you think?"

Yes, it was, but he wanted to hear Joe say it. Not that Sav would ever admit it, just like he wouldn't admit that he'd liked what the 'wolf had been doing to him—and he wanted more. He was pretty sure Joe knew that, that the lupine had been able to smell it on him. If Jon and Richie hadn't walked in when they did, what would have happened? Sav knew it wasn't entirely one-sided: Joe had admitted that his 'wolf wanted him, and Sav had guessed that, for some reason or another, he was the only one who could help the singer when the beast inside was fully in control. He'd felt Joe's tense muscles relax under his touch (and quiver, too). The bass player was also sure that Joe had been able to smell his rising desire, and Sav didn't quite know what to make of that anyway. Still, he couldn't stop picturing the scene back in the restroom: Joe up against him, tasting him . . . claiming him in the way his 'wolf wanted . . .

"It's not just my 'wolf," Joe said suddenly.

What the fu—

"I can read your mind. There's an empathy link, remember?"

"Can you turn it off?"

The singer flashed him a wicked smile. "Only if I want to."

"Do you?"


Wonderful, Sav thought sarcastically.

"You never answered my question," Joe said after a slight pause.

"Because I want to hear you say it." So much for not admitting that out loud.

"Say what?"

Sav, frustrated, raked a hand through his hair. "You know bloody well what," he snapped. "You're the one who had me up against the wall, teasing me—wanting—"

"Okay, you're right," Joe interrupted, the hint of a growl in his voice. "And so was I. It's not just my 'wolf who wants you, Sav." He sighed, shook his head. "The thing with this—and this is what I've learned from other 'wolves—is you can be the straightest person on Earth, but when the wolf picks its mate, your human side has no say in it. And, well, it looks like my 'wolf chose you."

"Damn." Sav's eyes flew to Joe's, then glanced away just as quickly.

"Hey, do you two want to move?" said Richie from the bathroom doorway. "You're blocking the hallway."

Both Joe and Sav jumped, startled, and moved out of their fellow rocker's way, then headed back to the dressing room.

When the werewolf and his bandmate were out of sight, Richie turned to Jon. "So, do you think there's something between them, or is that just me?"

"It's not just you," Jon said with a smile, his fingers playing with Richie's long dark hair. "I see it too—we even walked in on them, Sambora."

"What were they doing, exactly?" Richie mused. "Certainly not what you do to me or what David does to Tico when you share that stolen energy after a gig."

"Not exactly," Jon said. "I don't know much about werewolves—"

Richie scoffed. "Does anyone?"

"—but it's fairly obvious he's made Sav part of his pack."

"Meaning what?"

"What do you know about wolves?"

"Not much. I know there's a strong pack mentality, but that's about it."

"And you've hit the nail on the head," Jon commented, starting to walk down the hall to his band's own dressing room. His best friend scurried after him. "Joe's lupine, so he has that pack mentality, and he's an alpha on top of that—a pack leader."

"How do you—" Richie began, then stopped. "Oh, yeah, that whole feeding-on-energy thing. For someone who doesn't know a whole lot about werewolves, you sure know a lot."

"I read, believe it or not. Anyway, he probably views me and David as a threat to his pack."


"His band. Def Leppard."

"Oh. You think he had anything to do with their first guitarist leaving?" Richie was remembering how Jon had had Alec leave Bon Jovi: staring into the bassist's eyes, tearing out a piece of his soul, implanting a false memory.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Jon said.

An evil smile slowly crawled across Richie's face. He threw back his head and cackled, wringing his hands together, while Jon looked at him like he was nuts. "What was that?"

"So much ammunition," Richie said gleefully. "Aahoo! Werewolves of London. Aahoo! Aahoo! Werewolves of London. Aahoo!"

"He's from Sheffield, actually," Jon said with a smirk.

"Ah, so you see my point."

"Yeah. Now shut up before Joe hears you. Do you really want an angry werewolf out for your blood?"


"Now you see my point. C'mon, let's see if Tico and David are around anywhere."


Hours later, Jon and his bandmates were just coming offstage; the members of Def Leppard were in the wings. As David and Jon passed him, Joe wrinkled his nose. It was an involuntary reaction—he couldn't help it. He knew Jon and David glutted themselves every night they played: his 'wolf sensed it. Thankfully, the two bands were playing "in the round" and it was the last night of the full moon. Yes, the full moon made it easier for Joe's lupine to grab hold of him, but the reason it was most associated with werewolves was because it was the 'wolf Sabbath. During its other phases, it was still an influence on lycanthropes, but more powerful ones—or even sharp newbloods—could shift at will.

When Bon Jovi was completely offstage, Joe, Sav, Phil, Rick, and Steve took their places. (Joe thought it was pure genius making their way to the stage in laundry carts: no one ever thought about what was in a laundry cart, and this way, they weren't mobbed by the fans. Besides, being near so many humans excited the 'wolf bloodlust, and when they came up through the stage floor, the crowd almost always went nuts. It was one of the band's favorite things about performing in the round, and the fact there were four front row seats didn't hurt, either. Certainly it beat performing on a regular stage, where people in the way back might not hear or see them clearly.)

Joe glanced around at his packmates to see if they were ready, then looked out to the audience. "I said, Welcome to my show. Just you and me, babe. We got the whole damn night to go!"

The guitars kicked in, and Joe was already crossing to the other side of the stage, singing the next verse of "Stagefright." One advantage about performing during Change Nights was that he had a lot of excess energy. On the downside, when the performance high wore off, he was almost sick—or so it seemed—with the moon-fever. That was for later, though.

When they reached "Love Bites" in their set list, Joe found his attention was drawn to Sav. Suddenly it took on a very personal meaning—and none of their songs were personal, save maybe "Photograph" and "Rocket" (and even those were about Marilyn Monroe and favorite bands, respectively).

"I don't wanna touch you too much baby
'Cos makin' love to you might drive me crazy
I know you think that love is the way you make it
So I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it

Sometime during that verse, he and Sav were back-to-back. His 'wolf, sensing the bassist's nearness, leapt to the surface, trailing a clawed hand down Sav's side. Hopefully, from the angle they were at, no one in the audience could see.

"Love bites, love bleeds—it's bringing me to my knees
Love lives, love dies—it's no surprise
Love begs, love pleads—it's what I need"

Sav's head rested on Joe's shoulder, eyes half-closed in bliss as his fingers moved across the guitar strings, a smile ghosting over his face. It was incredibly sensual all of a sudden, and Joe had to fight the urge to taste him. Phil and Steve did stuff like that onstage all the time, but then again, they weren't called the Terror Twins for nothing. Besides, stunts like that were expected of those two, not Sav and Joe.

"When I'm with you, are you somewhere else?
Am I getting through, or do you please yourself?
When you wake up, will you walk out?
It can't be love if you throw it about.
Oooh, babe . . ."

Joe's 'wolf was going crazy, trying to take over. A familiar heat was coursing through him; his eyes were flickering from green to blue and back again.

"Don't you dare go 'wolf on me," Sav hissed, so quiet that only Joe could hear.

For once, the anchor wasn't working. Joe gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and willed the heat in his skin to dissipate.

Somehow, he wasn't sure how, he made it through the rest of "Love Bites." Then the band launched into "Comin' Under Fire," which really didn't help.

"Your kinda woman got a heart of stone
But watch it break when I get you alone
Take a chance, come lay down with me
Oh, I wanna make it

Slow and steady never lost the race
Don't stop runnin', I'm a fool for the chase
Play the game, surrender to me
Baby, I don't wanna fake it

Is it any wonder, you got me comin' under fire?
Comin' like thunder, you know you make me walk the wire . . ."

Joe knew he was in serious trouble when the wolf crept into his eyes, his canines twisted into fangs, and his nails curled into claws. He risked a glance at Sav, one that screamed Help me! in big silent letters. What was wrong with him? He'd always kept control when performing on Change Nights before, save for last night.

Sav made his way over to Joe as casually as he could—they'd separated during "Love Bites"—and leaned against Joe's free side, the one that didn't have the microphone. This time, his human side was able to push back the 'wolf, and signs of what he was were hidden again.

"It's so easy to put on a show
Your body says yes, but you won't let it go
But my passion, it won't slip away . . ."

A few songs later, the band took a breather. Joe reached out for one of the water bottles that were always kept onstage and took a swig. Then a sudden shriek and a startled noise from Sav made his head whip around. His eyes bulged and the water hit his stomach as a cold, hard lump.

Some chick had somehow managed to grab hold of Sav's leg; the bassist's face was petrified, like, Someone get this crazy chick off me! He was trying to back away, but that wasn't helping.

A swift glance at the others showed they were trying not to bust out laughing. So it was up to Joe—again.

He stalked across the stage, growling low in his throat. His eyes flicked side-to-side—ever a wolf, always predatory. The werewolf reached Sav and the teenage girl and glared down at her, allowing some of the lupine to creep into his eyes, the growl never ceasing. His nails were slightly longer than normal, but he doubted the girl would notice, since his hands were busy disengaging hers from Sav's leg. And if they accidentally grazed Sav's arse, well, was it really his fault?

"Oh my God" reached his ears; Joe jerked his head up from near Sav's shoulder as if he'd been whipped—or caught a tantalizing prey-scent—and glared at the audience member, who took a step back at the wild, dangerous look in his pale-green eyes.

Seconds later, the atmosphere returned to normal, or as normal as could be expected, and the band resumed their playing positions. Joe swept his gaze over the audience before he lifted the mike to his mouth and said, "This next song is off a fairly new album, so we're a little nervous about covering it. But since it fits the mood for tonight . . ." He shrugged. "Let us know what you think, yeah?"

There was silence, then Phil and Steve's guitars screamed out the opening chords to a Whitesnake single.

"In the still of the night
I hear the wolf howl, honey
Sniffing around your door
In the still of the night
I feel my heart beating heavy
Telling me I gotta have more

In the shadow of the night
I see the full moon rise
Telling me what's in store
My heart started aching
My body started shaking
And I can't take no more

No, no.

Now I just wanna get close to you
And taste your love so sweet
And I just wanna make love to you
Feel your body heat

In the still of the night
In the still of the night
Over here, baby

In the heat of the day
I hang my head down low
And hide my face from the sun
From the light of the day
Until the evening time
I'm waiting for the night to come

Ooh, baby

In the still of the night
In the cool moonlight
I feel my heart is aching
In the still of the night . . ."

During all those verses, the band had been moving around the stage, and Joe found himself paired with Sav yet again. The bassist's scent filled his nostrils; it took everything in him to resist bending his head to taste that skin, the throbbing pulse of life-blood. Thankfully, he had to sing the next verse, while the others were on a soft guitar solo.

"Oooh, baby
Oooh, babe
I can't keep away
Need to be closer

I can't keep away
Can't keep away
Can't keep away
I can't keep away, no

You gotta give me love
Got to give me some loving everyday
Can't keep away

Ooh, baby
Ooh, Lord

Tell me here, baby"

Phil, Steve, and Sav were ripping it up on the guitar solo, while Joe—as usual—was running (or not) around onstage. Phosphorescent-blue eyes locked in on Sav on the next verse and stayed there as he moved ever closer to his beta.

"In the still of the night
I hear the wolf howl, honey
Sniffing around your door
In the still of the night
I feel my heart beating heavy
Telling me I gotta have more

Ooh! Mama

Now I just wanna get close to you
And taste your love so sweet
And I just wanna make love to you
Feel your body heat

In the still of the night
Oh, yeah
In the still of the night
I will be sneaking round your door

In the still of the night
In the still of the night
Ain't nothing gonna stop me now

Still of the night
Still of the night
Still of the night

Still of the night
Still of the night
Still of the night

Still of the night
Still of the night
Still of the night"

The crowd was going nuts—or, rather, the teenage girls were—so the 'wolf figured they'd liked the Whitesnake cover. Of course, the fact he'd let some of the wild animal inside him show didn't hurt either, although he figured none of the humans would know what the physical changes meant, if they were visible at all.

A couple of songs later, the concert was over and the band filed off below the stage. The members of Bon Jovi were waiting there, sly smirks twitching at Richie's mouth and lighting in Jon's ice-blue eyes.

"What?" Joe asked, looking from guitarist to singer.

Mischievous laughter danced in Sambora's eyes. "So, did you mean that, Joe?"

Joe suddenly found it hard to look at his packmates—bandmates, whatever. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

Richie's smirk widened. "How does that one verse go? Oh, yeah: In the shadow of the night I see the full moon rise, telling me what's in store. My heart started aching, my body started shaking, and I can't take no more . . . Now I just wanna get close to you, and taste your love so sweet. And I just wanna make love to you, feel your body heat . . . Then, of course, all the moves with you and Sav onstage—"

The low, feral growl rumbled from Joe's throat and he lunged for Richie, claws extended and fangs bared. Strong arms wrapped around him before he could reach the Jovi guitarist and drew him close; Sav's comforting scent filled his senses. But at the moment, the anchor wasn't helping. Joe's 'wolf was out for blood—and it wouldn't be denied, not even by a human beta.

"Sav, let me go!" he snarled, twisting and bucking, trying to loosen Sav's hold on him.

"Sorry, mate, not happening." Sav's long hair brushed Joe's neck as he turned his head to glare at their bandmates. "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

"You look like you're doing just fine," Rick said quickly after a pause.

Coward. Joe nearly burst out laughing when he caught Sav's thought, but since he was still struggling, it would look odd. So he sent the laugh into Sav's mind.

Jon and his bandmates, meanwhile, had dragged Richie out of harm's way. David, Tico, and Richie were staring at Joe with wide, frightened eyes; their fear-scent was delicious to the werewolf. He twisted in Sav's arms, claws digging into the pink skin, drew blood. Joe heard Sav's hissing intake of breath at the pain, but he still wouldn't release him.

Then, somehow (he wasn't sure how), his back was to the nearest wall, Sav's body pressing against his.

"Joe, cool it!" Sav hissed.

Those glowing blue eyes, filled with bloodlust, never left Richie. Sav could only watch helplessly as he felt Joe's body grow uncomfortably hot, saw the strong features begin to twist and fracture. Joe, his Joe, was no longer there. The beast that wore his skin had crept in to replace him, and in all honesty, Sav was more scared now than he had ever been in his life. He could die here with Joe in his arms if he bit him, an instinctive snapping of jaws in the throes of the metamorphosis, or the bite could change him forever—turn him 'wolf. Since there was no cure, there would be no going back. But for one long trusting moment while he held Joe, none of that mattered.

Sav's hand rested on the golden fur covering Joe's flank, feeling the muscles there quiver. Then the lupine shook his ruff, hackles raised, and forced his way free of the restraining hold. Snarling, Joe crept closer to Richie, muscles tense, and leaped, blue eyes narrowed with hatred.

"Oh, bloody hell," the Terror Twins said in unison. Rick mumbled something incoherent, while Sav yelled, "NO!" The bassist practically flew the few yards separating him from Joe and landed squarely on the 'wolf's back. Startled, the lupine yelped and jumped straight up into the air, crow-hopping and bucking desperately in a circle to try to throw the unexpected weight off. Sav clung on, eyes narrowed in determination—and his arm dangerously close to Joe's muzzle.

He'd never be sure if it was by accident or not, but dagger-like fangs sank into the skin on his arm. Sav yelled with pain and wrenched himself free of Joe's lupine body, landing heavily on the floor.

The 'wolf forgot all about Richie and swung around to face Sav. Recognition flared in those glowing blue orbs, then dismay as they saw the bite mark on Sav's arm. A low whine spilled from his throat, and he padded on silent paws over to the bassist. Joe snuffled at Sav's hair, his face, then licked the pale skin that was already burning. He didn't want to face those accusing blue eyes, eyes that screamed How could you? You'd promised you wouldn't give me the bite!

Above them, unseen, the full moon reached its zenith.

Sav's cry of pain mixed with Joe's anguished howl. He felt as if his insides were being squeezed into a vice; he was burning, his body on fire . . . Then the feeling broke, replaced by a calming wave. Instinctively Sav knew it was wrong to feel this way: a feeling this good only came with a terrible price.

He tried to stand up, but his body didn't want to work like that.

It wanted to stay on all fours.

The faces of Jon, Richie, Tico, David, Rick, Steve, and Phil were much higher than he was, and they all reflected shock and horror. And Joe's lupine face was at eye level.

Sav glanced down and froze when he saw his paws—yes, paws. Then he turned rapidly in a circle, chasing his . . . well, his tail. All of his senses seemed sharper, and his vision had a strange reddish tint.

Then the truth hit him with horrible clarity and he shrank back on his haunches, ears flat against his furry head. No, he moaned. No, no, no . . .

Joe's scent enveloped him as the bigger 'wolf nuzzled him, and Sav relaxed. His alpha was here, would know what to do. He wanted Joe's 'wolf to reach inside him, control him, because he had no idea how to handle his lycanthropy. Since he couldn't, he needed someone who would. Instinctively, the submissive beta whined and licked at Joe's jaw before rolling onto his back, exposing his fur-covered belly.

Sav, it's okay, Joe soothed even as he was taking in the bassist's lupine form. Sav's fur was the same shade of brown as his hair, his belly fur a shade lighter, and his blue eyes were the same—human eyes. So that meant Sav was probably a wereling—a werewolf that retained its humanity even in the lupine state. Some purebloods saw werelings as the perfect synthesis between man and wolf, while others thought they weakened the pack. Joe, since he himself wasn't pureblood, didn't care. Just focus on me, okay? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bite you.

Help me,
Sav pleaded, rolling over so his paws were tucked under him. His 'wolf chanted, Take us over. Make us yours.

You're already mine, the alpha growled. It reached out to the beta 'wolf, forced the shift.

Sav's sleek werewolf form was smaller than Joe's, but it was just as muscled and, well, beautiful. The alpha was aware of the others watching as the 'wolf body shrunk in on itself, fur shriveled back under pores, bones cracked as they adjusted to human form. Finally Sav was human again, his clothes in tatters. Joe changed back as well, and rested a hand on Sav's shoulder. The newblood, in shock, buried his head where Joe's neck met shoulder, locked his arms around Joe's neck, and kept them there, trembling.

Joe's eyes met Jon's ice-blue ones. "Jon, can you . . .?" He gestured toward his bandmates. "I don't want them remembering this."

"Hey!" Rick protested. Whatever else he was going to say died in his throat when pale-green eyes turned on him. Joe said, "You guys only found out about my lycanthropy last night and you've barely handled it. How would you deal with another 'wolf in the band?"

"He's got a point there," Steve mumbled.

Jon asked Joe, "You sure?"


It was over within a minute. None of the other three Leppards would remember the truth about Joe, and now Sav.

Jon shot Richie a slightly smug look.

"Don't say it," Richie grumbled.

"Oh, but I must. I told you so."

"Yeah, you did. Happy now?"

"Very," Jon said smugly.

"When you two are quite finished," David interrupted, crossing his arms and glaring at his bandmates.

Jon and Richie cracked smiles at each other before Jon said, "We're good."

"Great," Joe said, "'cuz I want to crash back at the hotel. We all do," he added, resting his chin on top of Sav's head for emphasis.

Sav inhaled deeply, taking his alpha's scent into his lungs, then finally lifted his head. "Sleep sounds good right now."

"Fine by me," Tico agreed, a knowing look in his eyes as he studied Sav and Joe.


In what seemed like minutes (but was really an hour) later, everyone in Def Leppard was in their penthouse condo. Phil, Steve, and Rick were passed out in separate beds, but Sav suddenly found he didn't want to be alone tonight.

He hesitated before climbing into bed. Not wanting to risk waking the others, he reached out to Joe over the pack bond. Joe?


I don't want to be alone tonight. Will you—?

Sure, his alpha replied, maybe a little too quickly, but Sav didn't care. He slipped under the covers and closed his eyes, aware of Joe's warm, muscled body stretching out beside him.

An arm banded across his chest, drew him close, and everything in the newblood went limp.

A small smile curved Joe's lips before he joined Sav in dreamland.
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