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Sleeping Dogs 5

CHAPTER FIVE: The White Wolf

Harry slipped into Remus’s classroom after the last student filed out for the day, hands tapping mindlessly on each desk as he passed them and approached his professor. Remus had his head down, fiddling with some paperwork to finish, so Harry waited patiently, staring out the window at the snow covering the ground outside. Sirius was hidden away somewhere out there, although the man came by, time to time, to visit in the Shrieking Shack and spend nights with them.

“What did you want, pup?” Remus asked gruffly. Beaming, Harry turned to reveal his bloodied face and bruised cheekbone, eyes falling onto Remus’s exasperated expression. “Tell me he at least looks worse?”

Harry nodded, wincing slightly as it pulled at a sore cut. He licked his lips, tasting blood, eyes taking in Remus’s mussed hair and rumpled shirt, as if the man just couldn’t go the day without lounging and stretching, and doing things to Harry that made him even more rumpled looking. Which Harry was really hoping for because he was aching after fighting with Draco Malfoy, and since Remus had not approved of anyone to touch Harry, the werewolf was currently his only option with Sirius out.

Remus had also been very resistant lately, somewhat uncomfortable with Sirius not around to join in. It had been way too long and Harry was taking greater risks, trying to get what he needed. Sirius had warned him that Remus might slip into halfblood, muggle, backwards nonsense, but Harry hadn’t really understood what that meant until Remus had stopped filling him.

“Tell me what happened,” Remus ordered in his quiet way, waiting for Harry to step up to his desk across from him so he could view the damage.

“Oh, you know, he was cracking something about mudbloods again… Fuck, Remus, he really has such a nasty mouth,” Harry said hungrily, leaning in to let large fingers touch the cut on his lip, and then the bruise on his cheek.

“That may be extremely accurate, Harry, but until you can prove to me that you can keep him in his place, you know I can’t let you near him. You are of my pack, and even the way you are, you need to reflect the right level of intimidation to those outside the pack.”

Harry whined, eyes closing into the touch. “It’s so fucking hard, Remus, so fucking hard to not want him to say such fucked up things to me. I want him to do things to me… oh, the things you and Siri do… but with his nasty mouth.”

Remus sighed, caressing the boy’s cheek, watching his dark eyelashes sweep over his pale skin. Harry had gotten stronger since joining Remus’s pack and magic. Stronger physically and emotionally. He could transform now, nearly with pure ease into the young, spitfire of a chocolate dog that happily chased Padfoot around in the forest, cheering and grounding the older dog so much that Sirius seemed himself again. Harry was waking them both up, erasing a lot of the damp and ice from the last years. But the boy was still a handful, all said and done.

They were glad that Harry was better, seemingly happy to have the two men in his life, and learning to accept the ache that had consumed his existence since it woke up. Remus suspected something was still wrong with the boy, Harry prone to dark, angry moods, and spending a lot of time alone. He had stopped talking to his old friends all together and seemed to have little interest in making new ones.

Harry was just too different now, had always been, but now he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was too difficult to be around others that expected him to be something he was not, instead of accepting him for how he was. Which was likely why Harry had become drawn to the the obnoxious, rabid toothed Malfoy who had never seen Harry the way everyone else did.

Sirius was just as pissed as Remus was that Harry had fixated on the Slytherin menace. Of all the people to have a crush on, Draco Malfoy was not the boy. He was an arrogant, conniving, piece of shit death eater in training with parents, amazingly enough, even worse. The only good thing about him was his absolute terror of Remus. Terror Remus had started to treasure after realizing the way Harry was fucking determined to get the vicious prat into his hole.

Harry suspected that Malfoy had a canine in there under it all, and Remus thought Harry was probably right, if only because his ache had yet to be wrong. It still didn’t mean he wanted the arrogant sod touching Harry, never mind had any interest in him as a packmate.

“Remus, he fucking touched me today,” Harry whispered breathlessly, eyes half open to stare at the brooding man. “Right after I finally let him up—I think I might have broken his finger.”

Remus smiled at that, pulling out his wand to heal the wounds on Harry’s face, leaving the cut on his lip because the boy loved how those hurt so good. “How did he touch you?”

“Pushed me up against the wall with his hands and body… called me a filthy whore halfblood mutt…” Harry was trembling, lips parted to pant. “Said… fuck… said someone should show me how purebloods took care of things proper… And I… I couldn’t help myself, Remus—I tried, I really, really did,” Harry whimpered anxiously, eyes sliding away as Remus growled and pulled his face up to meet him again.

“What did you do, pup?” So help Draco Malfoy if he touched Harry—even if Harry could convince a damn stone to fuck him raw on its own accord. Harry bit his lip, tongue flicking out to lick over the cut there. “Harry, tell me.”

“God… okay… I’m sorry, I… I made that noise you told me not to make around other people,” Harry whispered, scratching his messy locks worriedly.

“The moaning one?” Remus asked, voice gone flat, eyes hard with rage. “Which one?”

Harry bit his lip harder, eyes staring at the desk. “The loud one… the long loud one when you’re usually, oh, pushing in so hard…”

“Fuck,” Remus snapped, grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and holding him still as the boy insisted on swaying. “What did he do? Was there anyone else there? Did anyone figure out what you wanted?”

Harry smiled again, panting heavier. “No one else… just him… and me…”

“I told you not to be alone with him, Potter,” Remus growled, infuriated when Harry continued his secret smile.

“No, he followed me.” Harry said. “And I beat him up, again, like you said. And he pushed me up against the wall and said terrible, nasty things to me. Fuck… and then I made the noise… that noise you and Siri like so much. And he—he kissed me!” Triumphant, Harry beamed again while Remus snarled.

Sirius was going to murder the little Slytherin prick, and Remus was going to fucking help.

Glaring, he pulled Harry across the large desk, pushing his head down into the hard wood and grinding his face. He bent down, listening to Harry gasp with head turning so he could breathe easier. “How did he kiss you?”

Harry pouted, eyes meeting Remus’s angry ones. “He was… rather dull about it, actually,” Harry admitted with a sigh, thinking back to the incident.


“Sweet… too soft… Like I was a girl, or something.”

Remus blinked, letting Harry up and sitting down in his chair. Harry didn’t move for a moment, then turned his head so he could watch Remus from his prone position on the desk, tongue again licking out to run across the cut on his lip. The boy really was getting better, more in control, although still hornier than sin.

“Pup… do you think the little git might like you?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, not having given it much thought. He knew what he wanted from Malfoy, but hadn’t thought much what the boy might want from him beyond stopping the ache. “I dunno… Does it really matter?”

Remus shook his head, forever shocked by just how messed up the little pup was when it came to emotions. Sirius had his many excuses, but hell, Harry was still so young. His muggle family had really messed the boy up. “You tell me.”

Harry groaned, head thudding back down on the desk. “I don’t care… Just fucking need, and not in a soft, sweet way. It’s been so long… Remi, are you going to—?”

“No,” Remus growled, meeting the frustrated face turned his way again. “I told you to stay away from him. I told you to never be alone with him.”

Harry groaned again, his hands coming to his face, pulling at his hair, and licking at his fingers and palms in a desperate way. “Fuck… damn it… why do I tell you the truth if you’re just going to punish me for it every time?” He whimpered in anguish. “It’s been way too long… fucking need it…”

“Because you need to remind me of all the fucking bad things you do, Harry, or I might think you’re a good boy,” Remus said softly, watching the boy moan and arch at the answer.

Raising his hand, Remus summoned an owl, scrawling a note and sending it off while Harry sulked agitatedly, lying half on the desk, knees hovering off the floor while his sneakers curled toes on the ground. Remus tangled fingers in the boy’s dark brown hair, combing soothingly, bringing Harry back to some sort of calm semblance beyond just pure ache, like he had been teaching him.

There was a knock at the classroom door and Harry jerked alert, having spaced out long moments under Remus’s soothing touch. Remus held him down with his hand, waving the door unlocked with another. “Enter.”

“You wanted to see me… sir?” There really was no better term for Malfoy but pale. Well, except slimy git, but that went without saying in Remus’s eyes. The boy was white blond hair, silver gray eyes, and pale moonlight skin. A little taller than Harry, bulked more, but both boys ridiculous thin still. Currently covered in cuts and bruises, looking half healed, as if Remus had interrupted him.

The boy was fearful as well, a body half strewn across Remus’s desk likely not helping matters in that area. Internally smirking at the thought, Remus waved Malfoy in, locking the door behind him.

“Potter here told me you two were brawling again,” Remus began, watching as Harry focused at Draco’s approach, green eyes following intently as the boy came into his range of vision from the desktop.

Draco was staring at Harry, confusion and something else flitting across his face. Then he looked up, flinching as he met Remus’s golden glare. “Er… is this a detention thing?”

Remus raised his brows, meeting Harry’s interested look. “Do you have many teachers giving you detention over their desk, Malfoy?” Harry asked nonchalantly, head firmly stuck under Remus’s heavy palm.

Draco didn’t answer, instead slowly biting his lip as he looked Harry over. Then, once again, silver eyes were back to Remus’s, less flinching this time and more curious.

“Hands,” Remus said simply, waiting patiently for Draco to place his pale, graceful ones before him, fingers bruised, knuckles scraped bloody. “You did break his finger… two of them…” Remus glanced up at the pale boy’s face, grabbing the broken digits and twisting hard.

Draco gasped, but didn’t yell out, instead glaring at Remus as the man twisted his hand backwards.

The bones were already healing, and Draco showed amazing resilience to pain. Suspicious, Remus pulled the hand towards him, growling when the boy made to resist. Then, letting his claws grow, he cut Draco until scarlet pooled into his pale palm. Remus didn’t need to taste to know, but he did anyways, because Harry was staring with such interest it seemed rude to waste it.

Remus let Malfoy go, pulled Harry up by his hair and snatched his glasses off, and then slammed him back down into the desk.

“What is he?” Harry asked, panting softly.

“Wolf—He’s a fucking wolf, and you didn’t even notice,” Remus growled, pulling Harry up again and dragging him across the desk until they were face to face. “How long have you been fighting with him? This whole god damn time, and you couldn’t tell?”

“You didn’t fucking notice,” Harry shot back, groaning as Remus snarled and shoved his head back down on the desk, splattering the papers he had been grading with spots of blood. “Fuck… fucking tease…” Harry moaned, green eyes hazing, mouth gaping loud pants.

“Cry about it, bitch,” Remus muttered, fixing his glare on the very still, very silent Slytherin pain in the ass that had a wolf animagus form. What the fuck was he supposed to tell Sirius now? That their reckless, fiery pup had fallen for some nasty mouthed, noble hearted, god damn wolf? That would go over well, Siri already so ridiculously protective when it came to the pup.

It explained the kid’s absolute fear of him, werewolves pretty much being the goddamn monster under the bed for any self respecting wolf. Didn’t explain the overall fucking prat in him though, but maybe that was just Lucius and Voldemort’s doing. Hell, maybe it was just kids these days, and Remus had forgotten what it was like to not give a shit about how cutting one could be when the opportunity arose.

Remus hauled Harry up to him again by his hair, turning the boy’s gasping face to look at the very confused wolf currently licking his palm to heal the cut there. “Come on, Potter, he fucking let you break two of his fingers instead of defending himself. Never ever hurt you the way he could easily have, for all your years of fighting. You can’t want something so fucking reserved and refined. He wouldn’t even know what to do with you. He’s a pup, and a damn sweet one at that, nasty mouth aside.”

Harry glared, eyes directed to Remus beside him. “You gonna fuck me, Lupin? I’m tiring you out, and we both fucking know it.”

Remus snarled, wrenching Harry’s hair and exposing his throat as he pulled him back, flipping the boy to his back and nearly into his lap. “You think some prissy little wolf can compare to a god damn werewolf? Look at him—he’s fucking pristine. How the fuck can he dirty you like you need? How can he fucking appreciate it, pup? You’d be better off with a common canine mutt, than some pretty animagus.”

“Stop being… so fucking… jealous…” Harry gasped out, body arching back, hands clawing at the desk to keep from falling off as Remus pulled him further back to the edge.

Draco quietly cleared his throat, eyebrow raised coolly at the very odd display of Harry grabbing at the strong hand holding his hair, whimpering and gasping, face flushed while his teacher growled heatedly at him. “Professor, I think there has been some sort of confusion. I have no interest in challenging you for Potter… And I apologize for hurting one of your own. I did not realize he was… pack.” He said the word with a small growl, Remus stilling from the sound of it.

Remus released Harry abruptly, the boy yelping and toppling back into the man’s lap, blinking up at Remus’s golden gaze. “Remi…” he whined beseechingly, red mouth pouting.

“He fucking apologized, Potter. What if something were to happen to you while around him? How the fuck could he protect you? Would he even, considering his family? He’s fucking domestic!” Remus spat the word, glaring again at Draco’s calm form.

Draco sighed, turned away and took a few steps, and then turned back, annoyance twisting his haughty, aristocratic features. “Why the fuck am I here? I’m sorry I kissed your dog, Lupin. He reeked of sex—not of werewolf, that’s for fucking sure, because I wouldn’t have fucking messed with that shit. Do you need me to write you a god damn essay on not touching an alpha’s slut? What the fuck is going to get me out of this room and away from his fucking sex scent? He’s fucking overwhelming and I have been trying to be respectful. If you saw to him properly, this wouldn’t have even been an issue.”

Harry whined louder, eyes fluttering shut with the realization that Malfoy had been able to discern his ache and had been effected by it. “Fuck… see to me, Remi… make this fucking better…”

Remus ignored him, pushing Harry forward to sway on the desk while he stood. “Fucking listen to just how prim you are. He doesn’t want fucking respect; he wants cock. Why you would fight that damn irresistible scent doesn’t make much sense in the face of that.”

“I have my reasons.” Draco shrugged irritatedly, eyes straying again to where Harry was now sliding down to lie back on the desk, the boy’s dark head lolling to gaze hazy green eyes at him. “Probably the same reason you haven’t dealt with it yourself. He’s god damn needy and I don’t know how I feel about sharing. Better to avoid it all together.”

Remus scowled, pissed with how the little prat had damn near guessed the problem. Filling Harry was not a one time job, but a many time, exhausting fucking marathon. Remus had tried training the boy to wait longer between sessions, but had been finding that the longer the wait, the more Harry wanted to make up for it once he finally got some much needed filling. Sirius had been an important element in this filthy dynamic, but the man was holed up in hiding indefinitely, and Harry was growing very fucking impatient, training only curbing so much.

“Damn it!” Remus growled, hands slamming to each side of Harry’s prone form, green eyes looking up at him hopefully while Remus snarled back. “It’s not like there’s a god damn abundance of fucking choices out here, Malfoy. What the fuck is he supposed to do, a pack bitch without a proper sized pack?”

Draco sneered, glaring at the two of them. “What the fuck do I care? Go throw him on some city street. I’m sure he’ll attract himself a nice pack of wild dogs to fucking take care of him. Clearly he’d enjoy it, the fucking slut mutt.”

Harry gaped, aching moan slipping out, body arching on the hard desk. “Nasty… fucking nasty mouth…” he panted, head falling side to side.

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t already,” Draco continued, nostrils flaring, silver eyes sharpening as Harry gave another needy moan. “Just thrown him out in the Forbidden Forest where whatever weird shit could come along and ruin him. I doubt he cares what it is at this point—probably never fucking cared to begin with. Hell, I’m sure the giant has some beast that will ride him. He always seemed taken with those savage hippogriffs.”

He stepped over, glaring down at Harry and smirking viciously. “What do you say, Potter? Want to spread for some fucking half eagle and just utterly all horse dick? Could it even be enough for a fucking gaping hole like you? Maybe you’d need two in there? Think the oaf could do it for you finally, wedged in there with the beast?”

“Holy fuck…” Harry choked out, writhing uncontrollably on the desk, hips bucking until he was pressed up against Remus’s hot torso, neck crunched forward, back of head pressing into the man’s awakening erection. “Think… I’m… dying…”

Remus rolled his eyes, secretly impressed with the creative shit talk coming out of the little wolf bastard’s mouth. “Thanks a lot, Malfoy, now the little bitch is overcome. Do you fucking know how difficult it is to keep him from breaking down like this? It’s been months of training and he’s still a fucking mess.”

“I would have shoved something in him, and left it in him,” Draco said with a shrug, watching Harry jerk and moan again. “Don’t you fucking werewolves know how to use a dildo?”

Remus glared, grabbing Harry’s chin and turning his head when the boy seemed about ready to swallow his tongue. “Is that what you wolves use, instead of getting hard and dirty in a tight hole? You fucking prissy little princes.”

Draco barked a harsh laugh, hand smacking at Harry’s questing fingers as they reached for him. “I don’t fucking care how dirty a hole is, as long as it’s not a shit werewolf cum trap. You have to draw the line somewhere on the level of skank filth—although Potter sure as fuck can’t be arsed to. He’s too busy being double teamed by the half-giant and hippogriff.”

Harry’s hands were tearing at his own t-shirt, pulling at the material to expose his flat stomach, biting at the fabric with his mouth, wet tongue lapping as he gagged himself on the softness. He was so fucking hard, and for whatever fucking retarded reason, no one was touching him, and he was pretty sure he was going to lose his fucking mind. He began kicking off his shoes, pressing back against Remus with his head, hoping the fucking man would cave already and put that big cock of his to proper use.

Remus seemed more interested in growling at Draco, slamming Harry’s head down, cheek bruised into the table when the boy kept trying to rub on him. “Potter, don’t you dare fucking touch yourself in front of this prissy prince wolf, or so help me, it will be a fucking month of ache, you little slut—and stop whining! Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know what the bitch sees in you, besides the fact that you’re species related. But as his fucking alpha, I have to make sure he’s not taken advantage of—”

“He’d fucking ride a house elf’s nose; everything is going to be up his hole. It’s hardly taking advantage,” Draco growled back, twisting Harry’s hand backwards and pinning it when the boy again reached for him.

“I’m talking about that sick fuck Dark Lord looking to kill the boy. The one your parents are fucking in league with. I’d have to be out of my fucking mind to let Harry anywhere near you.”

“Listen Lupin, I’m not my fucking parents. They don’t know what the hell I am, nor does their master. I have gotten very damn good at hiding it, which is why you couldn’t even tell. I am a fucking wolf, and I will not kneel to some halfblood, snake faced, crazy maniac that can only think of so much blood hate that he can’t pause to wonder why the fuck he was nearly killed by a god damn infant. A fucking infant could very literally beat him up—and did!”

Draco raked his free hand through his long, white-blond hair, glaring down at Harry’s rocking form with something more than anger. “Give me some fucking credit. When not begging for it, Potter is a powerful fucking force, and I’m betting on him and not the loser that couldn’t kill a baby. You know, if he’d ever fucking stop begging for it for five seconds.”

“He can’t help it,” Remus growled softer, surprised by Malfoy’s answer. “We’re working on it.”

Draco tore his eyes away from Harry’s gasping mouth, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t say there was anything bloody wrong about it. Fucking look at him. But he is a damn distraction… And I really need to get the fuck out of here.” He released Harry’s hand, turning to go, only to have Harry grab the back of his shirt and hold tightly.

“Come on, Malfoy… fucking do me…”

Draco half turned, wresting with the fingers gripping his crisp shirt. “No one likes a pushy bottom, Potter. You take all the fun out of it, you damn slut,” he snapped, bending Harry’s fingers back enough to release himself, but not hurt the boy. Harry looked back at him, eyes so wide and needy, he almost felt bad. Almost.

This time when he went to leave, Remus snarled and grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, holding the pale boy in place as he clawed at the heavy hand. “What? I didn’t fucking hurt him!”

“I am well the fuck aware, now shut up and hear me out.” Glaring at the Slytherin warningly, Remus turned down to Harry, snapping his fingers until the boy focused on him. “Where’s your collar?”

“Bag… there…” Harry pointed in the direction of where he had left his school things, head a red haze of want and nothing else. Remus accio’d it over and rummaged through while Draco scowled from beneath the unbreakable hold. Triumphant, he tossed the leather at Harry, who blinked at it a few times, before getting enough sense to wrap it around his neck and fasten it, the metal glinting dark black in the light.

Only to have the boy gasp a moment later, eyes wide, the scent of fear slowly rolling off Harry as he looked around confused. Sirius had designed it, the creatively deranged fuck, the collar imprinted with personality traits of right when Harry was first waking up as a bitch dog, and still full of shame and confusion, and lots of fight.

They had returned Harry’s memories slowly of the events that had woken him up, first having the boy see them from a pensieve to desensitize him a bit. His body fully awake, the memories seemed only to arouse Harry, and at the suggestion of the collar, he had readily agreed to try it, knowing this time he would not forget what happened once the collar was removed. It had made things very riveting for the two men, and Harry too, who remembered the incidences in his normal state of mind quite heatedly.

Draco stopped struggling, watching with interest as Harry groaned and rolled off the desk, crouching on the floor as he tried to get his shirt in some sort of order. “Sorry Professor… I don’t know what… I…” He appeared, standing slowly, hand tangled in his messy hair, face flushed with embarrassment. “Shit, and Malfoy too… I am so never living this down…” he covered his face with both hands, breathing out shakily.

“You werewolves are fucked up…” Draco whispered incredulously, just as Remus let him go so he could stalk forward and grab Harry around the waist, curving up the back of the dark haired boy and leaving Harry’s expression exposed to Draco’s blazing stare.

“Professor, what are you… oh god… stop…” Harry gasped, his wrists suddenly pinned in Remus’s large hand and pulled above his head, while Remus snaked his other hand down the front of Harry’s jeans, grabbing his straining erection.

“It’s okay, Harry… I just want to touch you a little,” Remus murmured in the boy’s ear, grinning when Harry shuddered and tried to throw him off.

“Get the fuck off me… you sick shit… oh god… oh…”

“Oh, come on… you know you want it…”

“N-no… fucking stop…”

“But you’re so hard, Harry… You can’t be so hard, unless you really want it… fucking slut…”

“No—oh hell.” Harry groaned in anguish, eyes squeezed shut as the hand moved from his cock to his fly, wrenching his pants and underwear down his legs. He was completely exposed to Draco’s very heated gaze as the gray eyed boy bit his thumb hard and continued to watch in silence.

“You know what else I think you want, slut?” Remus took his hand and ran it over Harry’s ass cheek, the boy jerking away from the touch. “I think you want a long, hard ride…”

“Please, no… don’t… it’s so wrong…” Harry shook his head fitfully while Remus pushed him over the desk, slamming his chest down into the hard wood.

“Wrong?” Remus breathed into his ear, pushing his bulge against the boy’s bare ass. “But you’re so hard, you little slut. Didn’t you know, this is how you like it?”

“No… stop… damn it—I’m going to fucking kill you!” Harry snarled beneath the hand on his head, eyes glaring even as his mouth opened wide and he moaned, fingers pushing into his tight hole. “Oh fuck… stop… that’s fucking dirty…”

“You’re fucking dirty, you filthy little slut. Look how hard you are with my fingers up your dirty little asshole. You want this… you want to be a filthy wide slut, opening whenever anyone asks…”

“No… god no… stop, Professor, please… whatever I did, I won’t do it again… promise… oh—oh fuck…”

“You seduced a wolf, little slut… You went begging to a wolf your own age, trying to get it into your hungry hole…”

“No… that’s fucking sick… Oh god… is that…?” Harry moaned, hips jerking forward as he opened his eyes to find Malfoy gone and a white wolf in the boy’s place, sleek and majestic, and currently licking his face. The long pink tongue kept whipping over his gasping lips, sliding into his mouth and tasting his tongue and roof of his mouth. Eyes closing slowly, Harry let it, his own tongue reaching hesitantly forward to meet the slippery intruder.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. You won’t just open for your teacher, but a fucking wild animal too. Talk about issues, Potter.”

Harry groaned, the tongue now moving over his face, down his throat, teeth tearing at his shirt and pulling it off him. “Oh fuck… I need help… there is something so… fucking… wrong with me…”

“I’m going to help you, Harry,” Remus murmured, biting the boy’s shoulder as he thrust his fingers in a final time. “And so is that prissy little wolf… Would you like that?”

Harry shook his head no, sweat dripping down his face as he struggled with the hands holding him down. “Stop… fucking stop… this is wrong…”

“You like it wrong, you little slut. This is the only way you like it… violated.. and forced… and begging for me to stop…” Remus slowly pulled down his zipper, watching Harry tense at the sound.

“Oh fuck… please don’t… please stop…” But Remus was over him now, the man’s deceptive form hiding steel strength as he grabbed Harry’s hips and pressed the head of his large cock to the boy’s twitching hole.

The white wolf gave a whine, biting at Harry’s ear, the boy crying out and inadvertently pushing back onto Remus’s thick dick. “N-no… stop… it hurts…”

“You fucking like it, you bitch slut… You fucking need it…” Remus growled, pushing forward, Harry’s cries only making him want to hurt him more. “Fuck, you get so fucking tight, pup… so fucking tight when you’re like this… still afraid… still ashamed of how fucking filthy you are… And you are filthy… so fucking filthy…”

Harry didn’t answer, gasping loud sobs and moans as Remus began to fuck him hard, driving him into the desk. “Noo… nooo…” he groaned, and then shuddered, the hot, long tongue back, finding his face, finding his mouth and tasting him so intimately, Harry couldn’t help but press towards it, even as his body was being torn apart and filled so good. God, he was so fucked up… so fucking wrong inside…

Harry stopped fighting, letting his body relax and give in to the searing, hard jolts of his teacher pounding into him. His head resting on the desk, he kept his eyes half open to stare through tears at the mouth and wicked teeth of the white creature before him. Harry reached a hand out, brushing fingers down the narrow jaw, curling slightly, pulling it closer so he could kiss it. He slid his tongue over the long, sharp teeth, tasting the wolf the way it had tasted him, sliding his tongue to reach and flutter against the roof of its mouth, and then the flat of its wide tongue.

“I’m so… fucking… sick…” Harry groaned again, and then kissed its nose, lapping across the black, wet point. Silver eyes regarded him intently, another soft, hungry whine meeting his ear. And then the tongue, sliding over Harry’s face, slower, languid, catching his sweat, tasting his tears, meeting his reaching tongue and tasting his mouth again. So slow… so sweetly… Harry wasn’t sure he had every known such sweetness.

“I think I preferred you… with dick in your mouth…” Remus grunted, glaring at the wolf kissing Harry, who intentionally ignored him. It was not going the way he had planned when getting Harry in the collar, having hoped to shock the damn prissy thing into something appropriately wild and unleashed. Growling, he grabbed the collar around Harry’s neck, undoing the clasp and throwing it aside. “Come on, pup, remind him how a fucking slut dog wants it.”

Harry moaned heatedly, pushing back against Remus’s hard body, trying to get some fucking leverage so he wasn’t flat on the desk. “Fuck, Remi… fucking do it hard… break me, you fucking monster…”

“That’s it, you fucking slut,” Remus growled approvingly, glaring down at the white wolf as he pulled Harry back and up, letting the boy rest his palms on the desk as he slammed into him, nearly toppling the pup forward. “I’m going to make you so fucking raw, every time you go to get your hole filled you’re going to fucking scream in pain.”

“Yes… oh fuck… do it…” Harry gasped, hands reaching above to grab onto Remus’s neck and head as the boy bent backwards, body stretched out long and taut. “You know… how I need it…”

“I do, you little bitch slut… hard… until you can’t stand it anymore…”

“Fuck… fucking fill me… need the wet so bad…”

Remus grunted, pulling Harry back and lifting the boy so his feet were no longer touching the ground. He pushed the boy’s knees to the desk and bent him over, Harry’s thighs wide to get the perfect height. Snarling possessively, he buried himself in deep a final time, giving hard, shallow thrusts as he filled Harry with some much needed filth. The boy howled in aching joy, forehead heavy on the desk, sweat covering his face as he gasped.

Remus ran his hand shakily over Harry’s stomach and groin, finding at some point during the hard reaming the boy had cum, his climax lost in the whirlwind of it all. “That’s it, love… that’s how you fucking like it… Nice and wet inside… full of cum and filth…”

“Yes…” Harry agreed softly, rubbing his face into the table, sweat making his movements slick. “Thank you, alpha… it was… so fucking good… what I needed…”

Remus stayed buried inside, filling Harry as long as the boy wanted it, while his golden eyes glared again to the silent pain in the ass watching from his furry seat.

As a wolf, Malfoy was a little less annoying, body nearly as large as Padfoot’s heavy form, but more narrow, its muscles compact, and silky bright fur much better cared for. The eyes were an intense silver instead of the beautiful manic blue of Remus’s lovely mate. But the eyes weren’t looking at Remus, they were staring at the panting boy crushed beneath his larger body, and there was definitely more than just lust in the creature’s gaze.

Fucking pups… fucking sweet pups, falling for things they shouldn’t even want… Harry was a damn wild mutt, and the wolf just talked shit and couldn’t follow through, too sweet and domestic to take what he wanted properly. He just wasn’t fucking good enough for his Harry.

Harry gave a whine when Remus withdrew, trying to push back and impale himself again. “Fuck… don’t stop yet… need it…”

Remus sighed, reaching down and picking up the collar he had thrown on the floor, slamming it down next to Harry. “You are fucking exhausting, pup. Let the wolf have a go so I can rest.”

Harry looked back, beautiful green eyes wide in surprise. “For real?”

“This one fucking time,” Remus cautioned, growling at the both of them. “I don’t know when Siri will be back, and fuck, Harry, I’m not twenty anymore… If the prissy thing can bear to be second to my foul scent.” He turned his glare to the wolf, stalking over intimidatingly.

“Don’t get too full of yourself. The boy just really needs filling. And the collar is his choice. Anyone ever forces it on him, I will kill them, understand? It’s not something to be abused, ever.”

“He gets it Remus. Stop mothering,” Harry muttered, grabbing the collar and wrapping it around his neck. He paused before clasping it and activating the spell, eyes glancing carefully to Draco’s wolf form and assessing him long moments.

Harry bit his lip, smiling shyly, so shyly Remus wanted to break something. “So, uh, Malfoy… would you… um, stay like that? Just for this… I uh… fuck… I like it… a lot…” He was mumbling, cheeks red, and Remus wondered if the collar was a damn good idea when Harry was already so syrupy in mood.

Swearing under his breath, Remus stepped up to Harry, pecking the boy lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right outside. I’ll be listening if you need—”

“You’re henning,” Harry growled, lightly pushing him away with a small smile.

Remus growled back. So what if he was henning? Harry was his pup, and he would fucking protect him all he liked. Glaring a final time at the white wolf nuisance, Remus gave himself a once over to make sure he was presentable and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Taken By Beasts

Taken By Beasts

This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.

Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.

18+ For explicit man on monster action, graphic language, breeding, growls, tears, and over 66,000 words of hot, sexy fun.
66,000+ wrds, Published October 28, 2016.
Heat level: XXX


on October 30, 2016
Incredibly awesome, hot and steamy. Multiple books but all were well written erotic shorts, guaranteed to get you a little wet in the pants
on June 17, 2017
This was a really sexually erotic series of stories that was full of the paranormal and very entertaining. Vampires, thralls, werewolves, magicians, shifters and mythical creatures..Menage’ is part of some of the stories and the sexual encounters are really hot. An excellent book. Would recommend it for anyone to read.
on June 1, 2017

I love this story collection. It has five wonderful stories, each one taking place on Halloween night. If I have to pick a favorite, it is the final story in the collection, a werewolf story that intrigued me and pulled me in from word one. I just loved the way the story unfolded, so perfectly through dark and shadow, the main character so haunted by howls and laughter in the woods. The writing in this one was some of the best I’ve seen by this author. (cont…)


Sebastian stepped reluctantly down the dark street, hearing the sounds of happy children shrieking yards away as they rang doorbells and demanded candy. He would have driven to the store, but the roads were black and reflective from the cold rain that had been misting that evening and with all the kids milling around for Halloween, he was certain he’d end up running one of the idiots over. Totally by accident, no matter how annoying they were with their costumes and laughing and damn near happy ass lives.

He might be depressed. Not that he didn’t have good reason—He wasn’t one of those emo types that just hated life. Much.

Scowling, Sebastian kicked a wet maple leaf off of his sneaker, feeling the trickle of water get in through the hole in the sole. Perfect. Really perfect. His parents had sent him out to get more candy for the trick-or-treaters, but at this point, he was pretty sure they just wanted to get him out of the house so they wouldn’t have to watch him mope.

Gay. Claire Stevenson thought he was gay.

She hadn’t even been mean about it. She wasn’t the first person to call him gay but most people had done it while making fun of his sappy heart when it came to animals or the fact that he was short and thin and apparently that automatically made him girly. Whatever. He probably could have dismissed it if she had been bitchy and trying to make him feel like shit about himself. Not that the end result was much different. Because the girl he’d been dating for the last three months had just dumped him because she thought he was gay.

God, he hated his life.

You’re just, well, not that into me, Sebastian. It’s like you’re a best friend, not a boyfriend. I can’t make you want me the way I want you, and that’s really, well, terrible feeling to be with someone that doesn’t want me back.

No, she hadn’t been mean at all, but Claire had still managed to destroy him with one damn conversation. He had liked Claire forever. Sebastian couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had a crush on her. Sure, he wasn’t the most romantic of guys—He’d never say he got butterflies or anything, but that didn’t mean he was gay. Sebastian was just really low key. Boring, if he was feeling down about it. Yeah, he was kind of boring—But not gay. He just didn’t get overly excited about stuff even if he had been crushing on Claire for ages now.

When I kiss you, it’s like, I dunno, wow for me. Really crazy and intense feeling. But you… I don’t think you feel much of anything at all.

God damn it, how could you even measure something like that? How could she just know she felt more than he did? It wasn’t like he was trying to compare or reach some goal of epic makeout sessions. He’d been dreaming about Claire forever, and the moment he finally had a shot at her, he had wanted to take things slow. You know, build a foundation between them. Prove that they could be a long term thing. All of his previous girlfriends had been more like a week to week trial with a whole lot of empty space in between, but with Claire, Sebastian had wanted things to be different.

Well, in a way, they had been, hadn’t they? Instead of being dumped for being too weird or distant, Claire had decided he really just wanted dick. Right after they had been kissing, at that.

He didn’t think he was a bad kisser. He got self-conscious a lot, especially if anyone could be around and see him, but when he did kiss, he thought he was kissing with all his heart. How could she think he didn’t feel just as much for her as she did him? Who even got to say how much you were supposed to feel for someone for it to be officially enough? Hadn’t he like, talked to her every day on the phone and tried to see her every moment he could? Hadn’t he gone out of his way to keep his schedule open around his job and college and her classes to take her out whenever she wanted? How could he do so much and have her think he didn’t feel anything for her? What the fuck else was he supposed to feel?

Fuck, was he supposed to feel something else?

Sebastian growled, his left foot landing hard in an unseen puddle and sloshing up his jean leg, the material immediately soaked. “Fucker.” He hopped, but the damage had been done, his sneaker now squishing with every new step he took, the wet shoe slipping on soggy leaves and concrete alike.

It was an extremely irritating internal monolog, one that didn’t seem to have any answers forthcoming. Sebastian didn’t know if he was feeling enough—He didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to feel. He had trusted his feelings this far. Finally, with a girl Sebastian had thought to one day want to marry, she had told him he wasn’t feeling anything at all. And the truth of it was, Sebastian wasn’t fully confident he was feeling everything he was supposed to.

Movies would have him believe he needed to make grand romantic gestures and last-second dashes to airports to show how much he cared. Real life wasn’t like that. At least, his real life wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the type to go rent out an ice skating rink for a romantic date or send twelve dozen roses for the week of Valentine’s Day. He didn’t feel the need to write a book of poetry for how Claire looked in the morning light. He wasn’t the type to want to slice his wrists just because the girl he’d been crushing on had dumped him. For real, who the fuck did that? That wasn’t love; that was just a total chemical imbalance of insanity…


Running a hand through his damp, black bangs, Sebastian sighed weakly as the line of convenience stores came into view. The small strip mall was lit up in neon oranges, purples, and reds for the holiday, calling customers in from the clammy, wet night with the promise of shelter and heat. He quickened his pace, ignoring the slosh of his sneaker with each frozen step.

God, was he like an unfeeling, dead-hearted idiot and just didn’t know it? Should he be, like, thinking about jumping off a bridge or something because Claire was never going to be with him? Hadn’t he been planning a life with this girl? She was funny, smart, cute, and just all around perfect. Sebastian had friends that acted like if they were dumped, their life was ending. Was he seriously wondering if he was supposed to feel love an entirely different way?

And just who the fuck decided what you were supposed to feel anyways!

He really didn’t know, and the lack of answers was beyond frustrating. Because if he didn’t know, how the hell could he change it? Did he want to change it? Did he need to conform to some level of ‘feeling’ or be forced to accept that he was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life?

Would being alone be better when he wouldn’t be judging himself on how much he was failing to feel for someone he supposedly loved or damn near loved?

Being dumped by Claire didn’t have Sebastian wanting to kill himself, but trying to figure this particular problem out was definitely getting him thinking about a sturdy plastic bag with no air holes.

Jesus, fucking girls. Dictating how he was supposed to feel while in the same breath telling him he wasn’t doing it right. He had felt just as much for Claire as he was meant to feel, or was at least capable of feeling. It might not have been enough for her, but it had been to the best of his damn ability at the time. He sure as fuck hadn’t felt that much for a guy before. Just because he hadn’t lost it over Claire didn’t mean he was gay.


He left the warm lights of the convenience store behind him with two bags of candy and an impulsive—but decidedly needed—six-pack in hand. Sebastian’s mood only grew worse when he found the mist that had surrounded him on the walk to the store had turned into a light drizzle that was quickly threatening to grow into a miserable downpour. He hunched forward in his hoodie, the sweatshirt material doing little to protect him from the freezing water and chill wind of approaching winter.

He was full of dread at the idea of going home and having to face his parents’ well-meaning yet completely unhelpful comments as to why things hadn’t worked out with Claire. They kept pushing for him—none too subtly, at that—to move into a dorm or apartment with a group of students his own age. So he could be more sociable. As loathe as he was to have to surround himself with a bunch of loud peers while at the same time losing any ability to fill his savings account, he was starting to consider it if only to avoid the ever increasingly awkward conversations of why he was still single and just couldn’t find the right girl.

As he slipped on slick leaves in the dark, leaning sideways against the wind while standing on the sidewalk, Sebastion began to contemplate his parents’ parting words before he had left the house half an hour ago. Maybe they had been suggesting something else when saying he hadn’t met the ‘right girl’ yet. Maybe they were saying he shouldn’t be expecting to fall for a girl at all…

Did everyone think he was gay just because he’d been unlucky in love?

The sound of crunching tires hitting leaves behind him caught his attention. Sebastian immediately stepped as far from the street as the sidewalk would allow, his expression growing stormy when he heard a puddle splash and felt a fresh spray of water as the vehicle roared past.

“Asshole!” He growled, raising his hand holding the bag full of candy while ineffectively wiping the side of his face that had gotten caught in the deluge of dirty water. He glared after the fading red taillights, glad that the rain had at least driven most of the trick-or-treaters inside so they wouldn’t have to deal with the same fate. Shaking himself off, he forced his frozen feet forward, quietly contemplating just who had insisted on Halloween being so late in the season when the weather was always so cold.

He was going to go home, lock himself in his bedroom, and drink himself to sleep. Not because he was depressed over Claire—no, apparently he still couldn’t work up enough emotion for that—but because he was so fucking annoyed by being told he didn’t know how to feel. He knew how to feel. He did it every fucking day. And if that wasn’t good enough, well, too fucking bad for Claire.

Somehow feeling more empowered in his anger even though he was still absolutely lost on what the fuck Claire had been trying to tell him, Sebastian splashed through puddles and piles of colorful, rain-drenched leaves until he reached the familiar streets of his neighborhood. The rain had only increased and his steps sped up in response, his sweatshirt soaked through and bangs now dripping into his green eyes, obscuring his vision. Which was why, when headlights suddenly flashed and Sebastian caught sight of a small, hunched body in the middle of the road, without thinking he immediately dashed forward.

A horn blared startling loud, the tires to Mr. Walden’s sedan shrieking on the wet pavement when the man slammed on his brakes to avoid Sebastian’s poorly lit form. He barely noticed, his gaze fixed on the middle of the road where a child’s plastic pumpkin treat holder was tipped upside down, candy scattered on the ground all around it. But where he had thought he had seen the body of a person, a drenched, wide-eyed black cat looked up at him, it’s fur matted to its trembling body.

“Sebastian! Are you out of your damn mind, boy? You could have been killed!” Rolling his window down roughly, the older man squinted into the rain, trying to see past Sebastian’s knees illuminated by his headlights. “Oh, hell, don’t tell me that’s a…”

“It’s a cat,” Sebastian said, wonder and warmth filling his voice in equal proportions as he bent down and offered the back of his hand to the small creature’s delicate nose. “I think he was eating the candy.” He had never known a cat to eat candy, but with the torn wrappers under the cat’s paw, he was pretty sure that was what it was doing.

Scowling with a mix of annoyance and relief to find that there was no child crumpled under the wheels of his car, Mr. Walden revved his engine impatiently. “Come on, get out of the street. Whatever it’s doing, the road is no place for it or you. Especially in this rain.”

Eyes of impossible periwinkle depths stared up into his. Crouching down, Sebastian held his hands out, the frail looking cat following the movement with its head warily. “You cold, little guy?” Sebastian crooned, carefully scratching behind a bedraggled ear. When no bite or hiss came, he edged closer, cautiously wrapping his arms around the cat’s body but not lifting just yet. “I’m going to get you out of this rain, okay? My home is nice and warm and you won’t have to worry about being run over.”

Taking the silence and trembling of the small form as permission, Sebastian carefully tightened his arms until the black cat was in his embrace. He stood slowly, hooking the plastic handle of the pumpkin with him so no kid would wander into the road to try and rescue it as well. He ignored Mr. Walden’s eyeroll—the man was clearly not as impressed by a pathetic, shivering, soaking wet cat as he was—and slowly walked his new friend to the sidewalk where they could both be safe.

“Do you have a collar, pretty?” He asked softly, gently scratching beneath the cat’s chin until it tilted its face up to reveal that it was indeed collarless. But even though the cat was bedraggled and scavenging for food, Sebastian was certain it belonged to someone or had only just recently lost its owner. It was far from feral, curled up in his arms and purring as it tried to heat itself against the rain and cold. It hadn’t tried to claw him or anything even though the poor thing had nearly been run over and had to be terrified.

Water dripped down onto Sebastian’s nose from the brim of his sweatshirt hood, startling him momentarily and reminding him that even though his new friend was safe from cars, it was still out in the miserable weather that could be just as dangerous for a domestic animal. Decided, he turned towards his house, speaking soothingly as he held the cat close against his chest between the damp layers of his shirt, offering it as much protection as he could from the elements while he took him home.

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Rob has had enough of his older brothers teasing him. Just because his mother insisted he was her honorary girl when she was done raising sons didn’t mean he was an actual girl! He’s sick of being treated like a chick and he’s looking for vengeance.

Rob’s three older brother’s are sick of their little brother acting like an angry, spoiled brat. When Rob crosses the lines with another one of his childish pranks, they decide it’s time to teach their little sister a lesson in being a girl the only way three muscular, controlling guys know how.

This story is 17,000+ words long. It contains graphic language, sexually explicit content between brothers, a great corset and leather boots, spanking, and mild humiliation mixed with some tears. 18+ Only

17,000+ wrds, Published June 11, 2016.
Heat level: XX



Sizzling hot story with four brothers! Loved the characters and the plot. Great job!
story warning: contains incest between 4 brothers. Wheew! This was another great story by Sadie. One thing you will always get with her books, is lots of heat! The best Thing about them though, is they have an actual storyline with that sex. If you like taboo books, this one is perfect! Rob and his older brothers heat up the pages.
Shocking debauchery.

Rob had finally had enough. His assholic older brothers had crossed him for the last fucking time. The three jerks had once again—well, Frank had and he totally fucking hated Frank—Frank had said he was a girl. Worse, a cheerleader. This time in front of the entire fucking football team. The bastard had stood in front of everyone and said the reason his little brother couldn’t try out for the team was because he was really a chick and they should have him cheer instead. And then everyone had laughed. Dan, his other asshole of a brother, had laughed the loudest and even Joey, who was usually the nice one out of the three, had joined in. Whenever he was around Frank and Dan, Joey always took their side. It wasn’t fair. Rob had three older, stronger, meaner brothers and they always picked on him.

Today, he was going to show them.

Rob stalked into their family kitchen, his parents still at work and his brothers still at practice. He placed the bag of sugar he had bought at the convenience store on the table, pulling a chair out and standing on it so he could reach the higher cabinet over the fridge. Fucking Frank was always laughing about how he needed to stand on something to reach the cabinet just like their mom. But Frank was a goddamn giant, as was Dan and Joey, and normal people needed a stool to reach that high. He wasn’t short and petite, he was just being compared to fucking giants. Everyone looked like a matchstick compared to his brothers.

Grinning viciously, Rob grabbed the container of whey protein powder out of the cabinet, gasping when he fumbled the large, plastic container and nearly dropped it. Fuck, that would have been a total mess. He cradled the container to his chest as he jumped down from the chair, then headed straight for the sink.

They thought they were so fucking great with their bulging muscles and tall, athletic forms. Just because mom had wanted a girl for the longest time and used to call Rob her baby Robyn didn’t mean he was a girl. Just because she had spent the first five years of his life dressing him in pink and calling him Robyn and telling everyone he was her honorary daughter didn’t mean he was actually a fucking girl. And what the fuck did his brothers do? Did they show sympathy? Did they try and help him bulk up like them or help him practice so he could join a sport? No. They just made fun of him too, teasing him for his slender body and cute face. They were always calling him Robyn, and cutie, and their pretty sis. God, he hated them all.

Just wait until the three of them were fat and slow, then they’d wish they were even close to as skinny as he was.

Rob poured three-fourths of the protein powder straight into the sink, turning the faucet on and running the garbage disposal so it wouldn’t clog. Taking the container with him, he hefted the five-pound bag of sugar and tore at the top of the heavy paper bag. Only to scowl, his fingers not strong enough to actually rip through the thick material. Goddamn, he hated his brothers. He could just hear Dan jeering in his ear about how weak he was. He didn’t have girl’s hands!

Grabbing the nearest knife, Rob stabbed into the bag, tearing the instrument out and pouring the sugar into the nearly empty protein powder container. He didn’t need to be strong; he was fucking smart. Once the plastic jar was filled, he replaced the wide cover and gave the powder a good shake to mix the contents. He got back on the chair, putting the container back where he had found it.

His brothers mixed the stuff into everything. Everything. It wouldn’t take long before they started getting fat, then they’d see how terrible it was to make fun of someone because of their body. Rob couldn’t help that he was short and thin. It was just the way he had been born. Just because his three older brothers had been born looking like Greek gods didn’t give them the right to treat him like shit. Fuck them.

Putting the chair back, Rob had a moment of quiet worry, his gaze sliding up to the cabinet. They always mixed the powder in stuff, usually flavorful stuff because it tasted like crap. He was pretty sure none of his brothers would be able to tell.

He snorted, grabbing the empty bag of sugar and crumpling it between his hands, then stuffing it into his backpack. He’d dump the evidence at school. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing the bag in the house trash. No, he was fucking brilliant and didn’t have to worry about shit. His older brothers were a bunch of idiot jocks. Like they’d fucking figure it out?


It was after five before the once nearly empty house was full, Frank, Dan, and Joey coming home, sweat still clinging to them from their time working out. They all beelined it to the kitchen, crashing through the house like a small herd of animals. Their parents wouldn’t be home till much later seeing as it was their weekly date night, meaning the boys had to fend for themselves for dinner. Rob was nowhere to be found but the sound of the shower could be heard from the downstairs bathroom. Joey’s expression was grim as he scolded the eldest of the three tall, tanned, dark-haired brothers for his earlier comment.

“You know how sensitive Robbie gets, Frank. You really shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of the entire team.” Joey’s hair was longer than the other three, black and shoulder length with a soft curl that was currently dripping sweat while he chugged a bottle of water.

Frank, the tallest and strongest of the three, looked far from apologetic as he reached above the refrigerator and grabbed the protein powder from the cabinet. His hair was short with bangs that teased over his forehead when they weren’t spiked back. “Come on, Joey, the kid gets asthma walking to the fucking mailbox. He can’t join the team. Those guys would break Rob to pieces and you know it.”

Joey flinched, his kind, gray eyes full of worry as he imagined their petite, slim-limbed brother trying to go up against an entire football team. Rob was just too small and delicate even if he was all punk attitude.

“Besides,” Frank continued, taking the glasses Dan handed him and putting the three out on the table. “You know what Johnson would pull if Rob even stepped near a fucking tryout. No way in fuck I’m letting that happen.”

At Frank’s unhelpful lack of explanation, Joey turned with furrowed brows to Dan, the youngest of the three rolling his deep blue eyes back at him.

“Seriously, Joey? Don’t you fucking pay attention? Johnson’s been perving on Robyn for a fucking year now. You really want to let that creep near our little brother?” The glass clinked, Dan stirring milk into his protein shake. “Rob doesn’t know how to handle himself with a guy like that. Johnson would have the kid stripped and on his knees sucking cock in five minutes flat.”

His spoon held in his hand like a knife, Joey pointed it straight at Dan’s face, the brunette’s expression dark. “Could you please not put that mental image in my head, asshole? I will stab that fucker if he touches my Robbie.”

Dan and Frank exchanging a silent look, Frank carefully pulled the spoon from Joey’s hand. “Yeah, well, to save you from a life sentence in prison for murder with spoon, I made sure the kid wouldn’t step near the field,” Frank said flatly, using the spoon to stir his own drink. He dumped a final scoop of powder into Joey’s glass, replacing the lid to the container. “Robyn is too sensitive for sports. Remember when he tried to play kickball, then spent an hour bawling when he stepped on that butterfly?”

“Come on, he was ten,” Joey reminded, unable to stop a small smile from gracing his lips. Robbie had always been ridiculously adorable. It was kind of hard not to pick on him. He had the cutest face and just got so worked up over everything. How could you not want to piss him off until he threw a little hissy fit? Robbie’s beautiful, violet-blue eyes would flash angrily and he’d always try to take a swing at you even though the kid had the scrawniest damn arms. Of course, it always ended in tears, the boy so emotional, he’d be hiccuping by the time the older brothers relented.

Joey admitted to a dark, secret thrill in seeing his little brother cry, especially when Robbie would cling to him for comfort after, burying his face against his chest until he finally calmed.

Joey slowly frowned, growling internally when his mind flashed for a second on Nate Johnson who had started hanging out with the three of them more, always asking to come over to the house. If that fucker so much as looked at Robbie funny, he was going to beat the guy’s face bloody. He’d beaten guys for less when it came to his little brother. All but Frank and Dan, who he shared an unspoken agreement with to back off when things got too rough when picking on their little brother.

Maybe it was time to teach Robbie how to take care of himself. If a creep like Johnson was looking at the kid…

“He asked me to show him how to get strong,” Joey said after a moment, meeting Dan and Frank’s eye as his glass was handed to him. “He wants to learn how to fight.”

“Like fuck,” Frank growled. “The kid would be fighting everyone that looked at him sideways. He’s too mouthy, too undisciplined—Way too angry all the time.”

Dan agreed with a grin, raising his glass. “Besides, if Robyn was strong, then he wouldn’t be our cute little sis anymore.” They each took a sip from their respective drinks, Joey immediately spitting his back into his cup when the overwhelming flavor of sugar hit his tongue. Frank and Dan slowly followed suit, their eyes growing dark.

“Son of a whore—Didn’t we just get this stuff?” Frank tore the lid off the protein mix, scooping the powder up and putting it in front of Joey so his brother could inspect it. It was clearly sugar, the crystals unmistakable, large and nonclumping.

“The little bitch,” Dan growled lowly.

“He must have been really pissed,” Joey muttered, going to the sink and dumping his glass down the drain. He cupped some of the running water into his hand, rinsing his mouth from the teeth-itching sweet flavor.

“Yeah, but sugar? He knows that can kill you, Joey.”

Joey shrugged but his expression was grim as he glared down while the sink drained. Robbie had never tried to get him to eat sugar before. Watching his older brother take daily injections of insulin since the age of seven had set a line none of the Conner brothers had dared to cross before. “You know how he gets when he’s angry. He forgets shit. Says and does things he doesn’t really think out.”

“I’m the one that called him a cheerleader,” Frank said with a growl, tossing the protein powder straight into the garbage bin. “He should have come at me.”

“We all use the powder. Rob knows as much,” Joey reminded reasonably. “He wasn’t just going after me.”

“Fuck, fine, what the fuck are we going to do about it?” Frank fixed his forgiving brother with a hard look. “That shit was expensive and we can’t have Robyn dosing the diabetic with a daily shot of sugar. He’s got to stop with this shit already. It’s getting old, man.”

Joey sighed, slumping against the sink. “Come on, guys, you’re just going to get the kid more upset. You can’t keep picking on him. He’s never going to grow up if you’re always on his case about shit.”

Frank and Dan exchanged another look, Dan stepping up and whispering into his taller brother’s ear. Joey watched them warily, his arms folded over his chest.

“It’s just a punishment, Joey,” Frank assured him. “So Rob won’t do it again. Think of it like training.”

“Like fuck,” Joey said with a scowl. “What are you going to do, duct tape him to the door again? Robbie was pissed for weeks and only acted out more. This prank war hasn’t helped anything.”

Snickering at the memory, Dan shook his head. The boy’s eyes were full of mischief, Joey even more anxious to see. “Nope, I think it’s time our little bro grew into a full-fledged woman.”

“Damn it. You guys know that shit pisses him off the most,” Joey growled in exasperation. “He’s tired of us calling him a girl.”

“He looks like one,” Frank said flatly. “He’s sure underhanded and bitchy like one. And if Rob keeps this shit up, we’re just going to have to treat him like the girl he is.”

Joey inhaled sharply, his stomach tightening against his will. A part of him loved the idea of Rob as a girl. It was the same part that used to love to tease the boy merciless until he’d cry and cling to him, whimpering into his shirt front. For the longest time growing up, Robyn had been their little sister and it was really hard to let go of seeing the boy silky and in pink. But Rob wasn’t a girl, he was a really angry boy who had been a total pain in the ass lately. One that he really wanted to protect from whatever revenge Frank and Dan had up their sleeve. His other brothers knew Joey could take care of himself but because of his illness, they still felt the need to overreact. Something he was pretty sure the two were going to do again as Dan suddenly bounded down the stairs and out of the front door right after flashing Frank a grin.

Fixing his remaining brother with a glare, Joey pushed himself from the sink. “What the fuck did you mean by that? What are you going to do to him?”

“You mean, what are we going to do to him.” Frank wasn’t intimidated by Joey’s scowl, returning it with a tilted chin. “You’re the one babying him, Joey. You let Rob get away with all kinds of shit.”

“I have to,” Joey said reasonably, used to this particular argument. “You guys are total asshats to him. He thinks we all hate him.”

Frank wasn’t impressed. “We just say shit, bro. Robyn’s been a total terror. He poured soda in our beds, put glue in the shampoo and I’m pretty sure he’s the one that left out Dan’s porn for mom to find. He told Jessica that we all have crabs and that—”

Joey sighed heavily, running his hand through his shoulder length hair. “Fine, I get it. He’s been a total dick lately. Just, you freaking out on him isn’t helping shit.”

Frank shrugged, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice instead. “You babying him hasn’t done shit either. You notice when it all started?”

Joey thought back but couldn’t really pinpoint when Rob had started being quite so angry. A few years back he had gotten really defiant about mom pretending he was a girl but it had only been recent that the kid had started pulling these stupid and sometimes dangerous pranks.

“Well, I noticed,” Frank spoke up when Joey didn’t have an answer. “It started when he was passed over for that bit in the school play.”

Blinking, Joey nodded after a moment in agreement. That could have been about the time.

Frank poured him a much smaller glass of juice, handing it over. When Joey went to take the glass, Frank didn’t let go, meeting his brother’s eyes steadily. “The play you prep’d him for like two weeks straight. Where he kept making doe eyes at you until you were wrapped around his finger.”

Huffing in annoyance, Joey rolled his eyes. “Come on, man, he’s a good kid. Annoying at times but he’s—”

“Joey, he’s in love with you,” Frank interrupted curtly. “Head over fucking heels. Absolutely, completely smitten with you.”

Nostrils flaring, Joey put more pressure into his grip until Frank relented the glass. He drank it down like a shot, trying to ignore the way the cold liquid felt like lead in his gut, heat rising over his skin in an anxious wave. “That’s crazy,” he finally said after the silence had stretched on too long, his voice gruff.

Frank was unaffected, looking completely at ease. “It’s pretty obvious. Robyn threw that hissy when you started dating that chick from the next town over. He sulked the entire time, you know, when he wasn’t spreading rumors about the three of us and hiding all our fucking shit. Dan figured it out before I did,” he added as if Dan thinking the same thing confirmed it all. “I was ready to hold the little brat out of a window by his ankles until Dan spoke up.”

“This is crazy,” Joey muttered, turning and rinsing his glass to give him something to do with his hands while his mind reeled. He glared over his shoulder, his expression full of accusation. “You’re just saying this shit to get me to agree to whatever terrible you’re about to do.”

“He loves you, Joe. He was auditioning for the role of a chick—”

“There weren’t any male roles!”

“Yet he still wanted to be in the fucking play,” Frank replied, his eyes narrowed on the way his brother’s face was flushed in anger. “Believe me, Robyn is in need of facing some facts about himself and that is not going to happen if you don’t face the fact that our little bro wants your dick. Bad.”

Glaring stonily out the small window that looked into their backyard, Joey held his tongue. There had been times, glances, sometimes hugs that had gone a little too long that had made him wonder. But that had been a while ago and he had told himself it had all been in his head.

“He doesn’t,” Joey said, sighing softly. “He really doesn’t and you’re going to freak him out if you suggest such a thing. The kid is angry enough, Frank.”

Giving his younger brother a calculating look, Frank tilted his head, indicating Joey should follow. After a moment, Joey did, dragging his feet as they walked down the hall past the bathroom, stopping in front of Rob’s room. There was a pretty pink unicorn superglued to the boy’s door covered in swipes of black sharpie. One of Dan’s jokes after Rob had deliberately erased one of his video game saves. Mom had set aside a room just for the girl she had always wanted. Instead, her Robyn had been born a Rob and the woman had still insisted her youngest get a room of his own. It used to be all pink until Rob had finally put his foot down a few years back.

Frank pushed the door open, stalking immediately to Rob’s backpack. The room was painted a mellow sage green, no remnants of the soft pink and white lace curtains their mother had inadvertently tormented her son with in view.

Maybe it had been all their faults. Just, Rob had never really seemed to mind. He used to like his pink clothes, used to like getting to wear socks with fun patterns and do twirls to show off his latest dress. It was really easy to forget that their little sister was a boy, especially when it was just so easy to make Robyn cry.

“Come on, Frank, don’t go through his stuff…” Joey trailed off, Frank pulling out the empty bag of sugar from Rob’s pack. Gnawing on his lip, Joey didn’t say anything when Frank turned the bag over, searching for whatever evidence he was determined to find. He looked around the room again, taking in the posters on the wall Rob had started putting up. Most were of girls in elaborate, funky clothes from school girl outfits combined with combat boots and crazy, sparkling pigtails to a wall dedicated to leather, gothed out vamp girls. They had a subtle sexuality to them, very subtle when compared to some of the posters Frank kept on his side of their shared room. Rob was young in a lot of ways still, Joey reminded of it at every turn.

Grunting, Frank continued his search, finding what he was looking for deep in the pages of Rob’s math book.

Joey sighed heavily when Frank held up the photo that had been carefully hidden away, his own face staring back in a quiet, easy-smiling pose. Fuck.

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Bullying Teacher 5

Bullying Teacher

Picking up where book 4 left off, in the last installment of Bullying Teacher, Darien must find a way to break through Beau’s silence and insecurity to finally get the man to see their connection. He’s been working on his teacher for weeks but Beau just can’t seem to understand just how much he truly cares.

Darien hunts down the man that hurt his teacher but he still faces a dilemma. Frustrated with Beau’s continued refusal to reach out to him in times of need, Darien decides a proper punishment is in order, enlisting three of his very muscular, large friends to help assist in the night’s lesson.

18+ This serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and themes of bondage, discipline, and some humiliation. Each episode is over 10,000 words long and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.

10,000+ wrds, Published April 15, 2016.
Heat level: XXX


on April 25, 2016
on December 25, 2016

Theresa rated it it was amazing

Shelves: keepers
4.5 stars Really good humiliation smut. Awesome DP scene. Syrupy sweet ending.

Pulling a cigarette free, Darien lit it up in the hall the moment he stepped outside Beau’s classroom. His teach was trying to get some food down and he just needed to get the fuck out and breathe for a second. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something, and scream, and hunt down and destroy the fucker that had hurt his Beau. Instead, he was going to smoke for a minute then go back in and pretend he wasn’t a fucking mess inside so that the blond could feel safe.

Why the fuck hadn’t Beau called him?

He looked over to where Roland was typing on his phone, the man doing his magic with the guys back at their office to find every bit of information available on Collin Hayward. Darien hadn’t bothered to tell Beau that the business he had started when he was back in high school involved the finding of sensitive information and then the blackmailing of people that gave a fuck about if that information was shared. He had started the company with a few ex-military friends, some he had gone to school with, some who he knew from other connections. Once, he had thought he’d be using them just to find out if his father was looking to fuck with his life again. Now he had a feeling he might have to see if Roland knew how to hide a body depending on how bad the night went.

“Do you want me to call in a doctor?”

Darien shook his head sharply. “Not unless he asks for one.”

“Boss, he was practically catatonic when we got here. For all we know, his brain took a bruising from that hit to his face.”

Blowing a steady stream of smoke, Darien didn’t bother to answer. His teach could take a punch. He had seen him take worse at the hands of Blake and his bitch friends and hadn’t missed a fucking beat. No, his teach had gotten down on his knees, sucked him off like a pro, and then rode his fingers until he came. Pain was not a deterrent for the blond but an aphrodisiac. If Beau wanted a doctor, he’d ask. It was one of the many rules they had set up to make sure the blond wasn’t getting himself in too deep. Except, even with everything Darien had done, Beau had still managed to get hurt the second he was out of his sight.

Beau wouldn’t let him hire a bodyguard. It had been a huge sore spot for Darien, one that he was pretty sure was about to blow up after this. He just wanted to have a familiar guy with his teach, someone he could trust to make sure nothing went down when he couldn’t be there. But Beau thought he was being silly. The man didn’t want people thinking he was someone special or some stupid shit like that. But Beau was special. His teach was his fucking life and today had been a new kind of hell for Darien when the man hadn’t shown up for dinner.

He shouldn’t have let him leave without a bodyguard. He should have locked the man up in the fucking house and made him quit his shitty job. There was just something about Beau, something in his eyes that called to certain individuals to feed his need for pain. It made them want to hurt him, use him, and when his pretty teach was in the right headspace, Beau loved ever second of it and begged for more. But that was only when he was in that headspace and with someone that actually gave a fuck enough to figure out what he liked.

Tears. Fucking tears in those beautiful blue eyes, and not in a sexy way. No, in a fucking helpless way that wrenched Darien’s heart too painful to fathom. Beau could take a fucking punch but this thing, whatever had happened, it had hurt him in a way pain didn’t. He was doing his damndest to not imagine just how exactly that could have been.

“I gotta make some calls,” he finally said, crushing his cigarette beneath his heel and scraping it into the tile. “I want that fucker found, and I want him brought here tonight.”

“Here?” Roland looked up, pulling a second phone out while he continued typing one-handed on the first. “The school?”

Darien nodded, ignoring the questioning look his head of security was sending him. He needed to make sure that whatever had happened hadn’t fucked up his pretty teach forever. Beau had a special kind of wiring, one that demanded the right knowledge and a skilled touch. He knew the longer the problem stretched on and festered, the harder it would be to get Beau feeling like himself again. He wanted things taken care of asap. The fact that part of it involved beating the shit out of the deadman that had touched his Beau was just a total perk.

“We got him,” Roland called out before the boy could leave, pushing off the wall. “He just used his credit card in a restaurant less than twenty minutes away.”


“Already on the way with Jordan. How do you want this guy brought in, boss?”

Darien considered, eying the picture Roland held up on the screen of his phone. “Keep him pretty. I want to fuck him up myself. Let me know when they get him here, but not in front of the teach.”

Roland nodded, texting as Darien spoke. “The guys dug up some more shit on him. Hayward was in a heavy scene about five years back. Used to frequent an underground club. Few regulations, lots of drugs. They were known for some pretty fucked up doms. A young man ended up dead and the place was shut down. Looks like Hayward’s aunt threw some money at some people and no one is saying shit.” He glanced up when Darien growled, fixing the boy with a look. “Hey, this is good news. With info like this, you have this guy by the balls.”

Darien just grunted, fighting back his anger and the pit of seething emotion beneath it. “You remember that kid I asked you to keep an eye on a few weeks back? Sutor’s brother, Rich? Did he ever get back to us on that thing we discussed?”

Roland nodded, already flipping through his other phone. “He seemed agreeable enough to it. Clean record. Able to listen.”

“I want him down here.” Hopefully, it would fix it.

In that moment, he felt like he was fighting fire with fire while holding onto the foolish hope the place wouldn’t burn down. But that was what Darien did. Every day he pushed forward, demanded the best from himself and everyone around him, and he prayed he wouldn’t trip and be stopped flat. Being with Beau had changed that. He had been allowed to take a beautiful soul and feed it, nurture it and give his teach everything the man could ever desire and he had felt at peace from it. Until someone had tried to take his teach away from him. Now Darien was back to trying to keep ahead of the consequences at breakneck speed while hoping he wouldn’t crash.

He had to suck it up. Push through and keep his eye on the prize along with every other cliche fucking saying that would help him get through this. Not for him but for Beau. His teach needed him strong. Darien didn’t feel strong; he felt absolutely out of control. The one man he gave a fuck about had been assaulted and he hadn’t been able to do a thing. He hadn’t even known until hours later. It didn’t matter what he did to this Hayward dick in retribution, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had failed Beau, that he could fail him again at any time. He could wrap the blond in fucking bubble wrap and order him to stay at his feet but Beau was going to pursue the things that brought him joy even when pain swiftly followed.

Sighing, he lit up another cigarette. He didn’t take pain as well as Beau did. He didn’t like to feel pain; he liked to push past it and let it spur him into action. Watching his pretty teach take pain was an experience unmatched by any other. The man was beautiful—strong in such a way he was never going to be, and so fucking beautiful. The man embraced the good and the bad, the pleasure and pain, and he transformed it into something beyond with his own body. Beau was fucking magic and didn’t even know it.

It didn’t matter how hard Darien pushed himself. Life wasn’t scripted and there was always something waiting in the dark to try and prey on the weak and unlucky. He could only protect his teach to the best of his ability and hope that Beau would be able to take the burden of pain when he failed. He’d be able to carry his teach through after, but he couldn’t change the fucking world that would break the man in the first place.

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Bullying Teacher 4

Bullying Teacher

Weeks later, now living with his wealthy student, Beau has lost himself in his relationship with Darien. Full of doubts and insecurity, not to mention a blossoming realization of his true feelings for his muscular master, things go bad in the matter of a day when a new professor arrives.

Collin Hayward has never met Beau, but he knows men just like him, or so he seems to think. Cornered and used, Beau doesn’t know if telling Darien is worth the loss of the one good thing in his life.

18+ This serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and themes of bondage, discipline, and some humiliation. Each episode is over 10,000 words long and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.

10,000+ wrds, Published April 15, 2016.
Heat level: XXX


on March 3, 2017
on December 25, 2016
on April 25, 2016

Eyes sliding slowly around the room, Beau tried and failed to relax in the huge bathroom of marble, stainless steel and glass he was in. It was very open, very spacious and he felt both small and exposed whenever he stepped inside the luxurious but sterile room. That was helped by the fact that all the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows had been left open, the early morning light bouncing off each shining white, silver and black surface. Outside the window, an expansive green lawn could be seen, the grounds looking more like they belonged to a golf course than surrounding a person’s home. Or should he say mansion? His student called it home but Beau was fairly certain the only way to classify the building was as a mansion.

He slowly stripped his new silky pajamas off, his eyes drawn to the mirrored wall where he could see himself reflected clearly. From the angle, it looked like he was outside standing on the lush grass instead of the cool marble tile. Slender, toned and lithe, Beau’s blue eyes couldn’t tear away from the red marks wrapping around his thighs and hips in faded slashes. He was always so surprised to see the marks on his creamy flesh in the light of dawn, how they had come to be there feeling like a foggy, heated dream of the evening before. He traced over a thin red welt that ran right across his left nipple, his body jolting as he remembered how he had earned it. Darien had said he was just too pretty, that he had been begging for it so bad the last time he had shown up to class with his pretty teach. The ruler was the only way to deal with such a bad teacher.

It had been a little over two weeks since he had moved in with his student and Beau still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or seconds away from ruining his life.

Stepping around the jacuzzi tub that took up the entire length of the windowed wall, Beau set the electronic shower. The thing could turn into a sauna with a push of a button but he wasn’t the type to indulge in such extravagances. The multiheaded jets that hit him in all the right spots was far more than he was used to. The water hot and steamy, he slipped into the spray, his golden blond hair quickly drenched as he was lost in the sounds and sensations of the shower.

It didn’t matter how much the glass steamed up, Beau still felt exposed, still felt like he was being observed through the large open windows of the bathroom. He wasn’t a vain man even if he was beautiful. He had used to hate how girly he looked, how women would refuse to date him because they thought he was prettier than them. Now he prized his beauty only as much as it gained him the attention of the one person he didn’t want to look away from him. He could be beautiful for Darien. If it kept the young man holding him tight and tying him up, Beau would be as pretty as possible.

There was a camera on the other side of the glass shower wall. He wasn’t sure exactly where, but Darien had insisted when he had first showed him the bathroom, pointing vaguely in the direction. It had been a terrible problem, one Beau had found worse in the mornings when he woke hard and Darien was still asleep. He turned his back to the windowed wall where the camera was supposed to be, one of his hands lightly bracing on the shower wall while his other moved down to his crack, his fingers probing into his hot, tight flesh still sore from the evening before. Darien wouldn’t be up yet, the boy rarely rising before ten am, but Beau had classes to teach and a job to get to. He’d have to wait until after the school day was over to feel the brunette’s claiming touch and get proper relief for the ache already building inside him. It didn’t stop him from driving his fingers deep inside his entrance, bending forward while gasping and putting himself on display for Darien just in case the boy did wake and look at the footage he kept of the bathroom.

That Darien had expressly forbidden him from coming without him present to see only made him harder.

Beau bit his lip, gasping softly under the sound of water hitting his flesh and the tile. It was only the second time he was trying this, still shy since having moved into the large mansion with his student. There weren’t a lot of places where he was alone, Darien usually right next to him. The idea of the boy watching him masturbate in the shower when he wasn’t supposed to was intense for him. He wasn’t even sure if there was really a camera. He wasn’t sure if Darien even looked at it if there was and if anything could be seen past the steam. But touching himself in such an open, spacious room felt hot like anyone could just walk by and see.

He really wanted Darien to see him. Really wanted the boy to know he was thinking of him with every plunge of his fingers into his passage.

His calves straining, he spread his legs wider on the slightly coarse stone floor that kept him from slipping. He clenched around his fingers, groaning lowly only to cover his mouth. Noises still made him feel like he was crossing a line and he could only allow himself so much before he got too shy. If Darien had been there, it would have different, but alone, Beau’s courage was very limited. Not that it was courage that had him riding his own fingers and whimpering desperately under his breath with each stroke that failed to hit his prostate. No, it was a mix of need and shame and giddy anticipation of the many things Darien had already done to him and would hopefully continue to do.

There was a noise under the sounds of the shower spray, Beau stilling his movements and pressing his face against the warming tile. His lashes dripping droplets of water, he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of his tight entrance when no new sounds were heard. He wanted to pretend he was being watched, his body flushed and tingling at the very thought. Darien had a slew of nameless servants that breezed through rooms silent as could be. On more than one occasion, he had been in the middle of a session with his student only to catch a glimpse of a person watching as they stepped by the door.

Beau groaned lowly, his muscles straining as he imagined those faceless people watching him now. He came with a cry, his passage clenched painfully tight around his fingers as he shoved them as deep as they could reach. Moaning, he ran his tongue over the immaculate tile wall, wishing he had a dildo or just his very large student to take him properly.

Hell, even alone he was getting messed up. He had to wonder if it was Darien doing it to him or just the craziness inside that had been allowed to be let lose.

The shower door clicked open, Beau gasping and staring straight ahead at the shower tile as cool air rushed into the enclosed space. For a frozen eternity, he questioned who it could be because he had yet to see Darien up this early. A servant? Maybe a relative of Darien’s that was wondering who the fucked up man was masturbating in the boy’s shower?

“Bad, teach. Very fucking bad.”

Melting at the words and the boy they belonged to, Beau raised his head, peeking over his shoulder. Darien was standing in the shower doorway, his muscular chest bare and tanned, black tattoos running over his thick biceps possessively. His hair was mussed from sleep, the boy dressed hastily in a pair of low hanging jeans, the bottoms already wet from the water spraying and bouncing off the floor.

Green eyes glared at him, Beau whimpering when he met that burning stare. He was in trouble and he couldn’t wait to find out what his punishment would be.

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