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…

Right?

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.

The drive had been full of an intense, silent energy that was quickly growing unbearable the longer Shane sat parked on top of Ryan’s dirt driveway under the thick canopy of oak and pine trees. He needed to say something. He needed to do something. He just had no fucking idea what. He was in the car with his werewolf mate and Shane was completely lost.

He couldn’t stop the crazy butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His teeth were itching, saliva building in his mouth at the very idea of biting Ryan Moss on the neck and claiming him back as his mate. Ditching class, he had led the dark haired, tanned werewolf to his secluded Charger, having parked under the trees and away from any stray door that could ruin the sparkling copper and black paint job. Still, once in his car, Ryan sitting a foot or so away on his front side passenger seat, Shane was again all nerves and doubt. The drive had been full of him testing questions in his head he never actually dared to speak and watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye as the brunette blatantly stared back at him.

A week ago when Ryan had taken everything he had wanted from him, things had been confusing and yet perfect all at once. Partly because Shane had felt trapped—He had literally been tied up by the lust crazed werewolf, locked in Ryan’s dark basement like something out of a horror movie. Just, it hadn’t felt like a horror movie, not really. Maybe more like a low budget porno where the big twist was he was being fucked by a wolf shifter. A shifter with so much animalistic charisma that Shane had finally given in to the possibility that he might not be as straight as he had once been certain of.

There was just something about Ryan. Noble, quiet, intelligent, and athletic—All traits that used to annoy the fucking shit out of him. Still did, actually. Shane was pretty sure even if he decided to bite the kid’s throat and claim him as his own, he’d still find Ryan Moss annoyingly perfect at every turn. Even in looks—Fuck, especially in looks. The brunette dressed practically in rags with his torn jeans and thin t-shirt but managed to look gorgeous, his windswept black hair teasing bangs across his eyes, his sharp jaw and cheekbones making the light blue of his gaze burn crystal beneath dark brows and thick lashes. Ryan might have been a werewolf but he was all man, over six feet tall with a tanned, toned, muscular build that Shane had found himself admiring on more than one rather confusing, blood boiling occasion.

In the light of day and outside of Ryan’s basement, the blond had to face the fact that this really devastatingly handsome werewolf wanted him as a mate and a part of him strongly returned the sentiment.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Really? It was all up to him and he just felt frozen in indecision. Why exactly did he want to bite Ryan? What would being a mate to a werewolf really mean, especially to a male werewolf? What the hell had he gotten himself into by not running out the door the moment he had seen Ryan step into class that day?

“Your scent is different from last time,” Ryan finally spoke when Shane continued to shoot him sideway glances and refused to move. The werewolf’s voice was so deep and low it could have been a caress. The brunette’s muscles had puffed up again, the boy giving off such an intense, sexually charged scent, it was a wonder Ryan could smell Shane at all. But it was clear he could, the boy dipping closer, pressing his face to the skin of Shane’s throat and inhaling deeply. It sent a shudder of heat through the blond, Shane’s hand reaching up to grasp the werewolf’s bicep, the flesh hard and straining under Ryan’s t-shirt.

Shane kept his eyes closed, his confused thoughts slowly slipping away the longer he pressed against Ryan’s hot form. Touch was grounding. Ryan’s solid, sweat-damp flesh and hard muscles were very real even if Shane felt somewhat lost and out of his depth. He breathed in deep, their chests brushing from his inhale.

“You smell the same,” Shane finally whispered, daring to open his eyes to find Ryan’s ice-blue orbs fringed in black staring back at him. The boy was still full of the wolf, the heat having made Ryan more aggressive and animalistic. Shane was certain because before Ryan Moss had gone into heat he never had suspected the boy was a werewolf. He had always been quiet, smart, and patient; Ryan had never been the kind of crazy, aggressive fucker that screamed of testosterone driven wolf. Now that he knew, it was a thrill to discover such power and need hiding right beneath the brunette’s calm, familiar surface. It was as if Ryan’s animal had come out just for him and there was something totally sexy about it.

Ryan gave a slow smile, revealing unnaturally sharp fangs as his gaze swept down Shane’s form. “You recognize my scent, babe? After only one day together?”

Shane nodded, blushing slightly. “Is that weird?”

“I have no clue,” Ryan answered honestly. “Never had a mate before. It’s kind of a one-time thing with wolves. And it’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time with my pack asking about this stuff.” He paused, leaning forward again, Shane holding his breath when lips brushed lightly against the corner of his mouth. “I know it makes me happy. I’m really happy to have you recognize me.”

Something warm welled up in Shane’s chest and before he realized it, he was fumbling backward, the car door biting into his back as he tried to put some distance between them. Ryan watched him silently, a bemused smirk gracing his lips when the blond flushed and ducked his head.

“I… um…” Shane couldn’t meet the boy’s gaze, his mouth unbearably dry all of a sudden. God, what the fuck was he doing? What were his parents going to say when they found out he had been bitten by a werewolf? A male werewolf. Ryan’s hand brushed over his knee and Shane exhaled shakily. A really fucking gay werewolf.

Was he gay? Wanting to let a guy fuck him would probably mean he was totally gay. God, he really couldn’t be gay.

“You going to sit in the car all day?”

Shane shook his head, not willing to explain himself as he tried to ignore the heat radiating off of Ryan’s hand. He could barely think properly but he was pretty sure he was fucking up his entire life. His father was going to kill him if he came home gay. Not just gay, but mated to a werewolf. Wolf shifters were outcasts at the very least, total crazy ass killers at the worst. Was he going to, like, move out into the wilds with Ryan? Give up on his plans of running one of his father’s companies? Stop competing in swimming—Did werewolves swim? Would he have to give up his car in some weird equality to animals thing and start hunting or some shit?

Ryan continued to watch, Shane’s expression growing more and more distressed as the silence stretched on. He could scent the anxiety coming from the boy and could see it in the way Shane’s breath was strained and huffing too fast. He snagged the blond’s chin, Shane gasping as he was pulled from his anxious thoughts right into Ryan’s eyes. Ryan’s grin spread wide the longer Shane blushed, the blond’s glare narrowing angrily in response.

“Sexy, didn’t you just kiss me? In front of a hall full of people?” Ryan reminded softly, his smile tinged with a mocking hint he did nothing to hide.

Shane huffed, looking away. “I was swept up.”

Grinning wolfishly, Ryan leaned close until Shane was forced to press back against the door or kiss the boy. Shane chose the door, his chin tilted defiantly. “Swept up with being at total fag for me, right?”

“Fuck off,” Shane growled, pushing his hands up only to pause, his palms flat against Ryan’s chest. Fuck, he was strong and it made him feel so hot. “I’m not a… Well…” He couldn’t get the word out, Ryan’s intense, burning gaze making his stomach feel like a swarm of butterflies was trying to escape. He had done a shit ton of things with Ryan he was pretty sure was defined as really, totally gay. But somehow admitting to it was just too much to face, especially when Ryan was smirking at him like a damn bastard. “You tied me up.”

“Not the whole time,” Ryan replied lowly. “Not when you were upstairs.”

Shane glared sideways, their gaze touching a moment before he looked away. Heat was pooling through him at the memory and it was only making him more flustered. “You… uh… cornered me,” he mumbled, “In the shower.”

“Is that why you started touching yourself?” Ryan taunted in his ear, Shane shivering in response. “You thought the scary werewolf was going to hurt you if you didn’t act like a total cock slut?”

“Damn you,” Shane hissed, his body jolting from the light scrape of Ryan’s teeth on his throat. “You know you’re fucking stronger than me, Moss, you fucking pain. You can’t assume I was acting out of, well…” He refused to say desire, refused to admit to anything, especially when Ryan was right there making him feel so hot and confused.

Ryan grinned, Shane feeling it against his neck. “So you only let the strong guys fuck you, babe?”

“You motherfucking ass—I’m not gay!” Snarling, Shane went to shove the brunette back only to have his wrists caught in Ryan’s vicelike grip. He gasped, his anger draining away as quickly as it took to feel the werewolf’s hard dick press against the flat planes of his abs. He fought back a whimper, Ryan’s lips teasing over his neck while the brunette yanked him forward in his grip. Before Shane knew what was happening, Ryan had his arms behind his back, his shirt ripped and pulled from him, and then his wrists bound in the fabric with quick, confident movements.

Ryan sat back, watching the emotions slowly dawn across the blond’s face. Shane pulled at his arms a few times, his cheeks and neck turning red as he blinked down at the seat when he couldn’t get free.

Trapped. He was caught, trapped, and it was spiraling a dizzying heat through him that was threatening to drown him in lust. Shane dared to peek up at Ryan, the brunette’s ever watching gaze making his mouth go dry. He had to know. Ryan had to know what he was doing to him by first baiting him to anger and then just taking all his frustrating choices away. Given the somewhat smug look in the werewolf’s eye, Shane was pretty sure Ryan knew exactly what he was doing to him, especially when his stare moved down his bare chest and abs to where Shane’s erection was tenting his jeans.

Shane held his breath when Ryan reached for him, the brunette’s fingertips teasing slowly up his side. He shivered at the realization that he couldn’t get away. That even if he wanted to, which he still wasn’t sure that he did, he was very much under Ryan’s power. The brunette’s thumb brushed his nipple, Shane hissing out in surprise. Ryan ran a circle around the nub, doing it again when the blond gave a whimper. Shane hadn’t realized his nipples were even remotely erogenous until Ryan had shown an interest in them, his chest muscles flexing with each tormenting touch.

Ryan ducked closer, watching Shane’s face as the blond stared down engrossed at what his hand was doing. Shane’s lips were parted, his brows furrowed, breath coming out in fast puffs of heat. With his short blond hair, sharp, dark eyes, and flushed skin, the boy was breathtaking as he gasped in pleasure. Ryan stilled his assault, gently squeezing Shane’s nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck,” Shane whimpered, his eyes closing as he pushed into the touch. Ryan squeezed harder, twisting until the blond released a weak moan and threw his head back.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” Ryan murmured, kissing Shane’s parted lips. The touch was feather light, Shane trying to get more contact only to have the brunette hover just out of reach. Ryan continued to torment his red bud, alternating between sharp tugs and gentle circles with his thumb while he kissed down Shane’s exposed throat.

Shane felt like he was going to hyperventilate. The last time Ryan had tied him up, the boy had been barely controlled, all desperate hard sex and crazed werewolf heat. Although certainly hard, Ryan’s movements were completely different now. Shane was forced to feel every touch, process every sensation as his nerve endings zapped just from Ryan’s shirt brushing his bare chest. Ryan’s lips tingled on his throat, Shane tilting his head even further back as teeth scraped wet across his flesh.

Shane groaned when the brunette dipped lower, silky strands of hair tickling his collarbone and bicep. Ryan’s mouth suddenly latched onto his already tingling nipple, Shane gasping and jerking from the feel of heat and wet. Teeth nipped at the bud and Shane couldn’t stop his loud cry, his back arching and nearly bucking the brunette off him from the force of the move. He could feel Ryan smile against his chest and he knew it was smug. Fuck, but he just couldn’t stop reacting to everything the boy did, be it fighting or fucking. How did Ryan do it to him every damn time?

Strong hands slid down his torso, Shane jolting when fingers slipped into his waistband and unbuttoned the clasp. He held his breath, his stomach muscles trembling with each light brush of knuckles to his flesh. He could feel sweat trickle down his back, making his flesh slippery beneath the werewolf’s hands. Ryan’s breath was molten against his neck, the brunette growling lowly as he unzipped Shane’s jeans and released his aching erection from the tight confines.

Shane blinked his eyes open when Ryan sat back, meeting the boy’s gaze with confusion. Ryan just smirked and grabbed the blond’s ankle, Shane gasping in surprise as his sneakers and socks were pulled free and thrown to the floor. Ryan tugged Shane’s jeans down his thighs immediately after, the blond left in nothing but his briefs.

Ryan was staring at him with a heavy-lidded gaze, Shane’s breathing speeding up in response to the look the werewolf was giving him. He was caught, trapped, and now nearly naked. Shane looked up at him wide-eyed, gulping as Ryan hooked a finger into the band of his underwear and slowly pulled the fabric forward. He thought Ryan might say something, might taunt him for just how crazy he was acting from just a few touches by a guy. The silence was somehow worse, Shane’s gasps filling the car as Ryan slowly worked the blond’s underwear down his damp hips and thighs. Shane was left panting, hands tied behind his back. With his golden body hair shaved for swimming, there was nothing to obscure his flushed dick rising rigid from between his thighs.

“You’re longer. A bit thicker,” Ryan finally said, glancing up from his interested perusal of Shane’s cock for confirmation.

Swallowing, Shane nodded hesitantly. Along with his dick, all of the blond’s body had changed in subtle ways after being bit by Ryan. He didn’t have a knot, thank god, but on top of feeling stronger with better endurance, he had transformed in ways only someone really familiar with his body would notice. It had only been one day together a week ago but Shane had to acknowledge that Ryan had memorized his body already.

Ryan’s hand slipped lower, his palm cupping and caressing the blond’s balls. Shane fought back a moan, his leg slipping off the seat when he spread his thighs wider to give the boy access. Ryan bent down close, breathing deep and sighing as Shane’s musk filled his senses. He growled on his exhale, Shane shuddering to feel the heat on his hip when Ryan quickly tore his underwear down the rest of the way, stripping him of the last of his clothes.

Fuck, he was going to lose his mind. Shane was hyper conscious of the fact he was naked in his car, the leather seats clinging to the back of his thighs, his arms pulled tight behind his back where they were bound. Ryan’s jeans were coarse as they scraped his legs, the boy’s hands rough and possessive as he pushed Shane’s knee up, spreading the blond open wide. It left him feeling vulnerable in a way he only ever felt with Ryan—Maybe because the werewolf kept putting him in these situations. Or more likely, because Shane had always felt raw and frayed when it came to Ryan Moss and having the boy touch him only increased that feeling tenfold.

“Wider, babe. Yeah, right there.” Glaring down at Shane’s nearly pained expression, the blond’s eyes closed and lips parted for each ragged breath, Ryan ran his hand up the boy’s inner thigh, squeezing the hard muscle. Shane groaned, jolting into his touch, a cry spilling free when Ryan suddenly folded down between his legs and licked his tongue up his dick from root to twitching tip. He paused at the top, stealing into his slit and tasting the precum beading there.

“Fuck—Oh, fuck,” Shane mumbled, sinking down the seat, his neck and shoulders scrunched uncomfortably against the door when the brunette grabbed him by the hips and wrenched him closer. He whimpered lowly with every gentle nuzzle of Ryan’s lips and nose between his thighs, his aching dick ignored, balls teased with a soft kiss right before Ryan’s wide tongue licked along his crack and plunged into his hole. “Fuck!”

Ryan hummed at the blond’s surprised yelp, using his thumbs to spread Shane’s hole open so he could drive his tongue in deep. Shane twisted and jerked beneath him but the boy had no leverage to escape, reduced to aching groans, gasping cries, and flexing feet as he was eaten out ravenously.

His hands clutching uselessly behind his back, Shane’s face and dick fought for all the blood in his body as his legs were directed over Ryan’s broad shoulders, the brunette angling him for better admittance. The werewolf kept groaning hungrily, the sound vibrating through Shane’s entire body as his hole was stretched and thoroughly lubricated with hot saliva. He was mortified; if anyone happened by the car and saw, there would be no question to what was happening. Ryan had his tongue up his ass and it was so dirty and messed up and felt, fuck, so unbelievably amazing. If anyone saw, they would know he liked it, would know that the broken cries he kept releasing were for more and deeper, and if Shane could only get his balance he’d be trying to get Ryan’s thick cock inside him again.

He could remember it so clearly—how overwhelming Ryan had felt filling his passage with his large dick. It had been too much, too long and thick and god, his knot had swollen so much. It had been a glorious insanity that Shane wasn’t sure how he’d survived. He was still confused, still unsure, but a part of him had been craving it ever since. He needed it. He needed Ryan so bad. He couldn’t understand just what the fuck was happening to him and he was certain he was going crazy.

“That’s it, you sexy little hole.” Licking the raw corner of his lips, Ryan pulled back enough to tease a finger over Shane’s wet, swollen pucker, swirling gently as he worked his way past the boy’s tight ring of muscle. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, his tongue again following and plunging deep into the blond’s hot flesh. He loved the taste of his mate, loved the moans Shane made as the boy rocked and quickly became undone with everything he did to him. Shane was his. The blond’s body knew and begged for him. He was his mate and fuck, he had missed the mouthy bastard.

Nipping Shane’s trembling inner thigh, Ryan waited for the blond to unclench once the pain faded to a burn, then immediately plunged two fingers into the boy’s hole. Shane sobbed, his body jerking uselessly as he squirmed from the sensation of his passage being filled. Ryan didn’t let up, stretching him relentlessly, gliding his thick digits in and out of the boy’s flesh to make Shane ready for his cock and knot.

God, when the angry boy had kissed him it had been the sexiest fucking thing. Almost as sexy as Shane gasping now, opening to him readily even for all his words of denial. The boy would remember once they were together again. He couldn’t expect Shane to change overnight after a lifetime of being defensive as fuck about his sexuality and talking shit about gays. Hell, they had fought since day one—And really, Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted that to change overnight either. He liked fighting with Shane. He liked seeing the kid’s face flush in anger almost as much as it looked moaning in pleasure. Ryan had no problem taking things slow with them getting to know each other. Just as long as Shane relented to being his mate and accepted the many ways that role would be enjoyable for the two of them.

“God, Ryan, please… Fuck, please.”

Ryan couldn’t ignore the blond’s desperate cries any longer, his attention pulled up the boy’s flexing muscles. He found Shane’s handsome face, his dark eyes slitted open, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. Ryan wasn’t sure if it was from the helplessness of the boy’s situation or just how fucking aching Shane was over him, but he loved seeing the blond fall apart. He straightened up, leaning over the boy’s crunched position, unable to stop from looking down at Shane’s quivering form a moment before meeting his smoldering eyes again. “You need it, babe? Do you need me to fill you?”

His eyes closing, Shane shuddered with a low whimper. Ryan pushed his fingers deeper into the blond’s clenching flesh, the third digit stretching him wider than before. Shane couldn’t help that he loved it just as much as he couldn’t stop how embarrassed he was by that fact. The absolute intimacy of being in the car wasn’t helping his problem. Their sweaty bodies had heated up the small space, the seat under him squeaking, Ryan’s rough jeans above him as the brunette ground his hard dick against his hip. He had been so big inside him last time. So overwhelming. Shane had barely known who he was by the end of it.

“Babe?” Ryan nipped Shane’s ear, his free hand sliding up the blond’s hard torso. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”

Forcing his eyes open, Shane met Ryan’s heated stare hesitantly. “I… I don’t know,” he whispered weakly, his lips wet and red. Ryan’s scent was everywhere, mixing with his own arousal and confusing him even more.

Ryan took in Shane’s debauched form, the blond naked, short hair mussed and expression full of torment. He was sexy as fuck and he had little interest in waiting any longer for Shane to figure his shit out. He gave a small growl, wrapping the blond around the waist and pulling him off the door and into his arms. Shane gasped, staring down blankly at the werewolf’s chest while he panted softly, Ryan’s hands moving over his back and down to his ass.

“Sexy, I have a damn good idea what you need right now and I am so fucking ready to give it to you,” Ryan murmured, exhaling unsteadily as he tasted the boy’s flesh and sweat. “You’re my mate, and you’re so hard that it has to hurt. You need me, babe. You gotta know you need me.” He peeled his own t-shirt off, half tearing it in his haste. When Ryan pressed his bare chest to Shane’s, the blond moaned and tried to push up against him tighter. “That’s right,” Ryan whispered. “This is what your mate feels like.”

Shane swallowed hard, his body burning from the feel of Ryan’s flesh. The werewolf’s hands gripped his wrists behind his back for a moment, Shane’s dick twitching in response. No choice now. No choice and, god, Ryan could do anything to him. The boy was so strong, so powerful, and he wanted only him. There was nothing he could do to stop him—Nothing he wanted to do, anyways. Shane kept silent, panting in anticipation.

His forehead resting against the blond’s, Ryan unzipped his own jeans, sliding them down his hips. He pushed his underwear aside, revealing his hard, thick dick slick with precum. The knot low on the boy’s length was already partially swollen and flushed with color. Ryan’s hand wrapped around his shaft, Shane fighting back a moan when he watched precum drizzle from the boy’s slit and drip down his flushed crown and over his fingers.

There was an unspoken question in Ryan’s eyes, one Shane was trying really hard to ignore when the brunette pushed him back against the door. Shane’s gaze kept drifting down to where Ryan was touching himself, remembering just how it had felt to have that hard length inside him. He forced his eyes up, blushing at the hungry glare fixed on him. Fuck. Fuck, he knew that look. That look had once had him begging in the shower for Ryan to fuck him. That look had gotten him so hot he had nearly let the werewolf take him in the fucking classroom. Now tied up and cornered against the door with the steering wheel restricting his movements, Shane felt the strange ache inside him grow that seemed to go hand in hand with Ryan’s burning stare.

Shane closed his eyes, groaning softly as his body responded—nipples hard, dick twitching, ass clenching—from just one damn look. There was nowhere to go. Nothing between them at all. He was naked, Ryan was dripping precum, and he knew what his mate wanted.

“Ryan,” Shane finally spoke, unable to handle the feelings welling in his body any longer. His voice sounded hoarse and strange in his ears, reflecting the desperation he was trying and failing to hide. He needed to be touched. He needed to be touched and not just stared at and left feeling so needy. He just didn’t know how to admit it.

It was some sort of signal for the werewolf, Ryan growling and straddling Shane’s waist as the blond gulped and hesitantly met glaring blue eyes. Ryan’s hips shifted forward, hot, sticky fluid dripping down both their damp skin. Shane couldn’t turn his gaze away once he looked down, his body shuddering hotly from the sight of Ryan stroking himself.

His breath coming out in ragged pants, Shane held himself still, groaning when Ryan rubbed his cock up against his abs, the brunette kneeling taller to reach his chest and smear his precum over his hot flesh so it would drip down. Fluid hit the bottom of his jaw and Shane jolted, hissing in anticipation. Ryan’s hand wrapped around the back of his head, the brunette pulling him down and guiding his mouth to the top of the werewolf’s cock.

Ryan’s dick was still too big to be normal but Shane was much less overwhelmed this time, his mouth watering from the first touch of hot flesh to his tongue. Ryan let him get used to the feel, the weight, slowly feeding him just the first few inches of his dick while the blond’s lips stretched to accommodate. Shane opened wide, running his tongue over the blunt tip, hating and loving how hot he got from sucking the boy’s dick. Fuck, but it made him hot. He teased the tip of his tongue into Ryan’s slit, groaning when he was rewarded with a hot spurt of slightly bitter liquid.

“Ryan,” Shane whimpered, craning his neck forward so he could reach more and lick down the boy’s throbbing shaft. The car was filled with the sounds of his own desperate, wet sucking and Ryan’s quiet pants for air. It made him feel dizzy, wild, Shane’s eyes closing as he gave in to the sensations he had been fighting. With dripping, trembling lips, he mouthed down the brunette’s thick cock, sucking on the swollen knot that had tormented him, laving it thoroughly with heated strokes. He wanted to make Ryan come. He wanted to get the boy so hot, he wouldn’t care just how fucking annoying Shane could be at times. And if he could get Ryan to blow like this, Shane was pretty sure it would mean he had won this round.

Growling as more of his precum streamed down his dick and streaked the blond’s face, Ryan tightened his hand in Shane’s hair. He pulled him back to the task at the top of his long length, groaning when Shane stubbornly gave a final suck to his knot in parting. Pushing his thumb between the blond’s red lips, Ryan glared down, his wolf howling to hurry up and claim the dazed, wickedly grinning boy currently teasing his tongue over the fluid wet on his fingers. Instead, he fought the urge, wanting to see just how obedient, if at all, his mate had grown since they’d been apart. He gripped the nape of Shane’s neck hard, watching the boy’s dark eyes widen for a moment before the blond opened to his thrusting cock.

Shane surrendered to the thick flesh, focusing on his lost breath and the feeling of his mouth and throat being taken by Ryan’s firm pumps. His jaw quickly grew sore, his lips weak from clenching and trying to grip the boy’s dick into his mouth. He could feel Ryan’s knot swell with every inward thrust, his precum growing thicker and more flavorful as it began to flood his mouth along with his saliva. He wanted to grab the werewolf’s legs for balance but with his hands tied, Shane was left tightening his abs to keep from falling back, his feet gripping the seat for purchase. It felt like something was melting inside him, loosening even while his erection throbbed and his hole clenched for attention. Ryan’s knot gave another twitch against his lips and Shane moaned, opening as wide as he could and trying to swallow him down.

He was going to come. God, just having Ryan’s dick in his mouth, taking his throat made him so hard he was going to come. His eyes squeezed shut, Shane tried to fight off the pressure rising in him, his moans reverberating through the brunette’s body. It was one thing to get off because Ryan was touching him, doing things to him that he couldn’t ignore the pleasure in. But to come from just the feel of the boy’s dick in his mouth? It spoke of things he didn’t want to face, things that were only getting worse with every thrust against his tonsils.

“Fuck, babe… Fuck,” Ryan rasped out, holding Shane still so he could hump deep into the boy’s throat, spurting more hot precum onto his tongue. He pulled out abruptly, his breathing strained, pupils oddly narrow as he ran his hand up and down Shane’s wet cheek and jaw, spreading the fluid that had collected down the blond’s throat. “You look so fucking sexy like this.”

Flushing, Shane looked up at him, swaying when Ryan released the grip on his face. He was aching, felt so lost and desperate and unbearably hard. He wanted release but there was no ignoring the demanding look in the werewolf’s eyes. It was inevitable. With Ryan pointing his monster sized cock at him slick with his saliva, there was only one obvious course of events.

“W-Wait,” Shane whispered, his voice cracking when Ryan pushed him back against the door.

“No. I waited a fucking week.” Ryan grabbed the boy’s throat with one hand and Shane’s leg with the other, settling between the blond’s thighs. Shane closed his eyes, the grip on his neck making him hot and weak all at once. “I waited that damn class and the drive here,” Ryan continued softer, his eyes taking in the blond’s red cheeks and swollen lips. “I waited ten fucking years for you to grow the fuck up and look at me like a man. I’m done waiting, babe. I need you and I know you need me. I know.”

Exhaling unsteadily, Shane blinked his eyes open, immediately caught in the werewolf’s gaze. Had Ryan liked him for that long? Even though he had been a total ass to the boy? Even when most days of his childhood he had felt like an absolute failure with no one that gave a fuck about him? Ryan had still seen something in him he liked?

Shane was pulled from his thoughts with a gasp, strong hands grasping his hips and pulling him up Ryan’s muscular thighs. The brunette’s dick pressed relentless between his cheeks, thick and dripping wet as it slipped and settled tight against his opening. He couldn’t stop the sudden anxiety, that same feeling of emptiness and fullness in his chest making him want to run and get as far away as possible.

“Fuck, fuck… Just hold on,” Shane whimpered, groaning when Ryan ignored him and pushed harder, his entrance slowly stretching to contain the brunette’s tip. Ryan’s hands held him in place, his hot mouth sucking at the scar where he had bitten and claimed him as his mate. Shane arched as he was breached, his breath coming out in a blast as he felt Ryan slowly and mercilessly penetrate him. “Big,” he gasped out, his head lolling back. “So big.”

“I have you,” Ryan whispered fiercely, holding the blond upright, Shane unable to do anything in his tied position besides open to him, and moan, and beg. He was trying to hold back, trying to be more considerate this time now that the crazed heat and anger had left him. But having Shane clenching around his dick, the boy’s perfect body arching and giving in to him was just too much. He’d been dreaming of this moment, had been certain he had fucked everything up, and he just needed Shane too much to slow down.

Groaning, Shane lurched forward, burying his face against the sweaty flesh of Ryan’s neck, the brunette fucking into him deeper, pumping in again and again while the blond gasped and trembled around the overwhelming sensations. Without his arms, he couldn’t get any purchase, forced to ride out every rough thrust of Ryan’s hips, his body rocking with the brunette’s hard movements. Teeth nipped at his neck and he jolted, squeezing the thick flesh filling him impossibly tight. It sent a shudder through him, knowing Ryan was inside him again, his seed soon to be slicking the walls of his tight passage, claiming him, owning him in a way he had never understood he’d wanted until a week ago.

Ryan pushed him back roughly against the door, growling as he followed right after. He spread Shane’s thighs wider and bent his knee up, gripping him tight. Shane met his piercing stare, moaning weakly when he felt Ryan’s swollen knot start to stretch into his entrance, the thick flesh forcing him wider with each agonizing thrust.

“Fuck… Oh, fuck.” Shane’s head fell back against the window, his eyelids slit as he struggled to rise above the insane feeling of Ryan working his knot into him.

“That’s it. Open to me, babe… That’s my boy.” Taking in the tears teasing down the blond’s face, Ryan lapped his tongue out and groaned as he got another inch deeper. “Missed you, sexy. Missed you so bad—Fuck.” He growled, kissing Shane’s gasping lips roughly. “You are so fucking tight for me.”

Crying out as the thick flesh surged deeper into him again, stretching him so wide, Shane’s arms flexed, something inhuman rippling through his muscles in a wave. The fabric tied around his wrists snapped, his arms automatically rising to grab Ryan’s shoulders so he could gain some leverage and relief from the insane feeling of being so full. Ryan grinned savagely and wrapped tight around the boy’s chest in response, biting the blond’s neck hard until Shane shuddered and relented. The werewolf pinned him with his body, dominating him completely with his full strength and deep thrusts, working his swollen knot into him while Shane’s moans increased in pitch.

“Fuck, that’s it… That’s it, babe.” Groaning, Ryan surged the final inch forward, settling deep into Shane’s tight passage. “Mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Shane shouted hoarsely, his hands clinging to the brunette’s wide shoulders. Ryan’s knot swelled almost immediately, locking the boy’s thick cock inside his aching channel. It was impossibly large and Shane was certain he was going to cum at any second from the sheer intensity. “Can’t—Fuck, it’s too much,” he moaned, shuddering as he felt the first splash of hot liquid inside him.

“You’re doing it,” Ryan growled, kissing the boy’s face and jaw while Shane whimpered and gasped. “You were made for me. Made for my knot. Made to be bred.” His fingers bruised into Shane’s flesh, his hips rocking erratically as he fucked the blond’s hot, tight passage, determined to fill him with every gush of his seed. Shane’s tormented cries were pure music, the boy’s body both taut with pleasure and lax in pain. Ryan reached for the blond’s dick, palming him slowly, wanting to draw Shane’s cries out as much as possible, especially when it resulted in the boy clenching on his knot, milking his cum from him with his tight passage.

“My mate,” he growled lowly, kissing the dazed boy. Shane mumbled something against his neck, the blond shuddering, sweating, jolting with every shallow hump as his prostate was stroked again and again. “You’re there, Shane… Come for me. Show me how much you love this.” He jerked Shane’s throbbing length firmly, groaning when the blond gaped wide and shouted. Ryan forced his tongue into the boy’s perfect mouth even as Shane bucked in his grasp, the blond coming all over his hand and both their stomachs. Shane whimpered against his lips as more cum streamed from him, the blond’s body tense and straining as he splattered them both.

Shane fought to breathe, Ryan’s mouth threatening to steal the last thread of his sanity. He glanced down as his moans slowly faded, shuddering when he found himself covered in pearly streams, Ryan’s chest and abdomen sticking to his. Fuck, he might not have had a knot and it might not have been to the same copious level, but he was definitely not fully human anymore.

He started, gasping as Ryan’s hot tongue dipped down, licking at the spatters of seed that had reached up his chest. Shane would have protested, tried to, but Ryan was still humping slowly into him, gushing the last of his semen into him while his strong arms held him tight. The brunette kept kissing him, tasting his cum, teasing his tingling flesh with lips and tongue and teeth. All Shane could do was sigh, waiting for the boy’s knot to fully deflate, seed dripping from between his cheeks as the werewolf devoured him at his leisure.

Ryan nipped his shoulder and Shane jerked, a wave of dizziness crashing over him. His teeth gave a strange itch, dull pain throbbing in his jaw. Bite. He needed to bite Ryan. His mate.

But it was like a commitment, wasn’t it? Like saying he was definitely gay as fuck. His dad would kill him. Coopers weren’t allowed to be gay. They weren’t allowed to be anything but perfect. Shane had never been a good Cooper and he was starting to fear that he wouldn’t be a Cooper at all for much longer.

“Babe… You okay?”

Fighting with the strange feelings inside, Shane barely heard Ryan’s voice from far away. Was he alright? He was pretty sure he was feeling good. Really good. He was a total fuck up that couldn’t do anything right but at least he felt good.

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.

Ky had to be hearing things. Drain him dead? There was no way Magnificent Night would ever hurt him like that. “What?”

“It’s probably not a huge loss. I mean, you seem to be really fucking simple.” The stranger smiled cruelly, his blue eyes narrowed as he glanced up from the black link in his hand. “Did you dress in the dark? I pity the sorcerer who has a mess like you for an apprentice. He must be just as foolish or fucking desperate.”

Ky inhaled sharply. He grabbed the other’s wrist, forcing him to either let go of his link to Magnificent Night or continue the contact. His classmate withdrew as if burned and huffed loudly. “I don’t know what your problem is, kid, but I’m not an idiot, and I don’t like being called one by a total…”

“Mr. Scion, let’s talk about these fascinating pieces you brought in today.” Ky snapped his mouth shut at his teacher’s voice, his gaze fixed on his classmate’s condescending expression. “I’m so glad to meet you. Ever since I saw your portfolio, I’ve been excited to have a conversation about your use of color. Excuse us a moment, Liem.”

His new art teacher, Ms. Mahoney, swooped in and led Ky toward his paintings and away from the silent Liem. Ky felt flushed, angry and confused. He glared over his shoulder at the rude jerk, who smirked superiorly back. What an asshole. He barely said two fucking words to Liem, and the guy just outright insulted him. Who the fuck did that?

Ky tried his best to focus on Ms. Mahoney and her very helpful critique of his work, but he couldn’t get the stupid ass out of his mind. Liem’s words spun in his head again and again. He had to be wrong; Magnificent would never harm him. Never. But… Ky didn’t really understand the link. He didn’t even know how it came to be. He barely knew anything about the Relics besides what Lovely told him, and what he heard the catboy argue with Feral over.

Could Liem be right?

Ky peeked over to where Liem was standing next to the table with a still life set up. Liem was looking down intently, and his lips moved like he was talking to someone. Ky edged sideway and nodded mutely to his teacher while he tried to see exactly what Liem was doing. Ky bit his lip when he caught sight of a pair of ears similar to Feral’s but pure black with silver piercings.

Liem brought a demon to class, very likely the same one who modeled for his paintings. Shaggy black hair covered the Relic’s face, his body pale and long as he hunched forward on the floor with hands braced to keep from falling. Behind him was a curl of a wolf tail, and elegant black, leathery wings instead of feathers sprouted from his back. Ky couldn’t hear what Liem was saying, but the Relic looked sick, exhausted, and barely able to sit upright as he swayed on the floor.

Liem abruptly leaned down and yanked hard on the Relic’s ear. Ky flinched at the pained noise the wolf demon made and quickly looked around to see if anyone else heard. No one even looked Liem’s way. A group chatted obliviously, and Ms. Mahoney pointed out the parts of Ky’s technique she found impressive. Out of the entire class, it seemed only Liem and Ky were able to see and hear the demon.

By the time Ms. Mahoney finished her critique, her main hope being he would try some more structured, realism inspired pieces to broaden his abilities, Ky was ready to find something heavy to beat Liem with. Liem kept pulling on his ears while the demon whimpered in pain and struggled not to fall over. The Relic was clearly starving, the strong, toned muscles on his form doing nothing to hide the ribs peeking through. Ky’s glare grew when Liem glanced his way. The student smiled chillingly right before he deliberately grabbed the demon’s nipple and twisted. The wolf demon arched and howled in pain, the movement finally revealing his face.

The Relic’s eyes were ice blue fringed with heavy dark lashes and filled with a wildness that made Ky uneasy. His fangs were long and sharp like he was waiting for prey. He was handsome under his bruises, his body and face littered in purple and blue welts. Even here, in a classroom of students, he was naked with only a heavy black collar around his neck. It was just as outrageous as how Liem was mistreating him.

Class was almost over. Ky grew more and more unsettled with each whimper of pain the wolf demon released. He had a feeling Liem was doing it just to piss him off; he kept grinning Ky’s way to watch his reaction to every cruelty. Liem was a terror and he couldn’t wait for class to get out so he could tell him as much.

There was a flash of silver, and Ky turned his gaze from the broken demon on the ground to meet Liem’s wicked eyes again. Liem slowly unfolded a pocket knife; his expression made it clear exactly what he intended to do when he reached for the demon’s ear.

Motherfucking psycho creep…

It was the last straw. Ky snarled as he stomped across the room. He grabbed Liem by the wrist hard enough for the knife to fall out of his hand and clatter to the floor. He was seconds away from teaching the stupid little dick what it meant to treat Relics as less than human, no matter how many people in the class thought he was crazy.

A deadly growl filled the air. Ky swallowed hard when the wolf demon unfurled from his crouch and towered over him menacingly. Liem smirked and whispered smugly, “Let me go or my pet is going to kill you.”

“You’re totally fucked in the head,” Ky hissed under his breath. He glared at Liem but all his senses were on the growling demon. Feral could have clawed Ky to shreds, and this wolf demon was much larger than the coyote. Sure, Feral might have seemed crazed when they first met, but the wolf demon was nearly foaming. He was starved, abused and showing signs of animalistic behavior. Whatever Liem did to the Relic, it turned him more berserker animal than anything else.

Ky reluctantly let Liem’s wrist go. He kept his chin raised defiantly and teeth grit in anger. “You have no right to treat a Relic like this. He’s an intelligent person, not some toy you can cut up for sick kicks. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you should know he’s just as equal as you.”

Liem’s rich, blue eyes widened in surprise before he let out a loud laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re one of those types! What a total retard. You’re jeweled, which means if your demon gets hurt, you’ll get hurt too, and you’ve got a black link that will probably kill you before the week is out.” Liem grabbed the wolf demon by its black, bushy tail, and pulled hard. “Demons aren’t people. That you treat them like people is why they’re going to kill you. You need to show them who’s in charge or they’ll destroy you like the weak, pathetic imbecile you are.”

Ky stood taller, and his anger grew as Liem laughed in his face. He could hear the other students gathering their things. The class let out for the evening, and the teacher encouraged them to leave their portfolios and compare them later to their homework. It barely registered past the red throb in Ky’s head. He couldn’t remember ever being so angry before in his life. Even if the wolf demon was nothing more than an animal, the way Liem was treating him was beyond monstrous. Up close, Ky could see more bruises, a few burns, and long scars where a blade drew deep across the pale flesh. Liem was fucked up, and Ky was determined to find a way to get the wolf Relic away from him.

“You’re wrong,” Ky said once his throat wasn’t so tight with anger, and the sounds of the class leaving died down. “Lovely would never hurt me, and I would never put him in danger whether we were bonded or not. The same with Feral; after talking with him I know he’d never hurt me again. The demon black linked to me? He just needs my help. He’s not going to hurt me either. He’s trapped in chains I can’t open but I don’t mind feeding him so he’ll stay strong, alive. Your Relic is starving. All you’ve done is hurt him the entire time you’ve been here. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Liem huffed and folded his arms over his chest. He glanced disinterestedly at the wolf demon beside him. “What, like I’m supposed to feed him?”

“Yes!” Ky snapped. “You put a fucking collar on him so he can’t do anything for himself. You have to feed him, or he’s going to die!”

Liem looked unimpressed, his eyebrow raised in the face of Ky’s righteous anger. “So? Feeding a demon only makes him disobedient. I don’t want him strong enough to fight back. Eventually, Fido will learn to be meek around me. I might feed him more, then. Maybe. His magic is still strong either way, so what does it matter?”

Ky was starting to really understand how Liem saw the Relic and it was only making him more upset. “And if he’s dead? How’s your stupid magic, then? He’s not a fucking battery; he’s a person!” He turned to the demon and tried not to flinch under the manic, cold glare fixed on him. “You called him a pet. Even a fucking child knows enough to feed their pets. You have to be the shittiest sorcerer ever to fail at something so simple as taking care of the creature who gives you magic.”

Liem was as childish as Ky assumed, and his face twisted in rage from the insult. “I’m a skilled sorcerer. A powerful one!” Liem lifted his chin and pointed to the link on his collar. “I have a red link, unlike you. Fido thought he was a warrior when he got here and now he’s completely dominated by me. What, you think you’re stronger? You don’t even have a wand on you. You didn’t bring any demons to defend you. You’re completely weak and helpless with nothing but a lame, white jewel on your collar that shows just how stupid you really are!”

Ky took a step back when Liem raised his hand, and a wand fell into his fingers from out of his sleeve. How did Liem know he didn’t have Anselm’s wand on him? Ky didn’t know what exactly the wand could do to him, but given Liem’s horrible nature, it probably wouldn’t be good. “You can call me whatever you want, but it doesn’t make what you’re doing right. You don’t deserve to be bonded to a Relic if that’s the way you treat him.”

Liem narrowed his eyes, and a grim smile split his face. “Only weak, pathetic sorcerers would ever bind to a demon the way you did your jeweled one. I know what happens to weak things, they get devoured by the strong. You think Fido is so fucking sweet and should be fed? I’ll show you firsthand what it’s like to die from a demon’s fangs.”

Ky inhaled sharply and turned as the door across the room slammed shut. “Demons don’t kill,” he whispered. Liem lowered his wand as he turned back slowly. Ky flinched when he met Fido’s very crazed, ice-blue eyes. “They feed off of energy. They don’t need to kill to…”

“You keep telling yourself that, dumbass,” Liem said with a snicker. “Fido’s hungry and he’s as mean as they come. I watched him tear apart a cat a month ago. He doesn’t care what you are just as long as he gets some food.”

Dread twisted in Ky’s stomach. He stumbled back when the tall demon lurched forward with a bloodcurdling growl. Fido might have been weak and abused, but he also looked mean as fuck and really, really hungry. Ky knew the demons at his home ate rats. He damn well knew Demencious, the horrible overseer, ate other Relics, human beings, and animals to stay alive. Ky didn’t want to believe it was possible, but he couldn’t dismiss the reality this wolf demon looked like he would be more than happy to kill him if he could finally eat.

Persistent whispers slowly pulled Ky from sleep. Everything was fuzzy. For a long moment, he was certain his mother was talking to him. Except the voices were male, strange, and spoke in a language he didn’t recognize. Somehow, though, he understood. His mind bent around each foreign word and supplied the translation as if he knew it his whole life.

“You need to feed.”

“I’m fine. Just stop rolling me,” Lovely softly groaned. His arm fell over Ky’s chest when he was deposited heavily on the bed.

“Feed, you stubborn thing. I don’t have enough to restore you.” The bed shifted, and Feral bent over Ky to peer into his sleepy face. “Alright there, whelp?”

Ky focused blearily on the coyote demon’s scarred face and intense, golden eyes. Ky’s gaze drifted and he reached his hand toward his bleeding shoulder. Feral’s bronzed flesh was covered in wounds, some so raw and painfully deep, Ky could barely stand to look at them. “Feral, you’re hurt.”

Feral huffed when Ky’s silver eyes filled with tears after taking in his bloodied form. “Don’t start bawling, stupid. Help the feline. He can’t heal without energy, and I don’t have enough.”

“I’m fine,” Lovely mumbled again. Ky’s gaze drifted to his side where the pale cat demon was stretched out beside him, blood dry and caked on his beautiful face.

“Frrrling whelp,” Feral mutter in exasperation when Ky’s tears spilled free. Ky whimpered low in his throat and turned and fretted softly over Lovely’s exhausted body.

He was too tired to grumble much. Feral sank onto the mattress and closed his eyes. They had spent the last day and a half in the wardrobe to avoid Ky’s parents who were constantly running in and out of the room. Livia had sat with her son the entire night before, refusing to leave his side. It was only now the two parents finally left the house together and drove off in one of their vehicles. It was enough for Feral to feel safe to come out and lock the bedroom door.

“Shhh. I swear I’m okay,” Lovely whispered hoarsely. His mismatched eyes of blue and violet peered out from between long strands of white hair. “Go back to sleep. Redeless is overreacting.”

“Chrrrl,” Feral snapped grumpily and burrowed deeper into the bedspread. “You nearly drained me unconscious. Let the kid feed you before you bleed out.”

Ky gently pushed Lovely’s long, white hair from his face and revealed slashes and bruises all over his luminescent flesh. It was strange to see Lovely in the thick black collar with its one crystal stud when everything else was bright and white about the catboy. “What do you need, Lovely? If I can help, I’ll do anything. Just tell me.”

“Sweet boy.” Lovely exhaled heavily. He snagged Ky by the chin and tugged him down until their noses brushed. “I just… just need a taste.” He licked his tongue out and traced over Ky’s lips until he opened with a sigh.

Ky was starting to understand when Lovely kissed him like this, tongue lapped inside his mouth in slow, hungry strokes, it was to get his energy and restore his own. It didn’t mean it stopped feeling amazing, and Ky whimpered and melted into the kiss. Lovely pulled him down and licked away his stray tears before he plunged his tongue back into his mouth.

“Sweet, sweet boy,” Lovely murmured against his lips. He nipped Ky’s red lips swollen and drew spots of blood his tongue quickly stole and healed. “Taste so sweet. So generous, my beautiful master.”

Ky blushed and fought back a moan. Lovely grew stronger with each kiss, his lips persistent and hungry as he pressed him down into the mattress. Ky felt more than a little perverted; Lovely kept saying things about how nice he was when he felt hot, hard and dizzy. “Lovely. Oh, okay,” he mumbled as Lovely pinned him to the bed and licked down his throat. His shirt was pulled off in a quick move he couldn’t follow.

“You’re wonderful.” Lovely nipped into his flat stomach, and Ky gasped and flexed beneath him. “You saved us with your very first spell. You kept us alive when we were starving for so long.” He pulled back and met Ky’s heavy-lidded gaze. “You’re the only one who’s ever shared, sweet boy. You didn’t take, didn’t ask for anything back. You’re so brave. So good.”

Ky couldn’t stop flushing, and he bit his lower lip anxiously. “Lovely, is that all it is? Sharing energy? I like when you kiss me. A lot.”

Lovely smirked and leaned down to lap over Ky’s pout. “I like tasting you, sweetling. I like touching you, making you moan, and beg, and cum.”

Ky sighed and pressed up to kiss him back. “I like that too. I like everything you do to me.” He gave another sigh when firm lips descended on his. He fell back against the mattress as Lovely languidly devoured his mouth.

“I need to heal Redeless.” Lovely broke away and knelt on the bed. “He doesn’t have the same restorative abilities I do.”

Lovely’s skin was already free of his previously blue bruising. The slashes and red scratches were just dried blood now, and his pale flesh whole and intact. Even his head wound was healed. All he needed was a shower to clean the grime of the battle away.

Ky watched as Lovely crawled over to the bronze coyote demon. Feral muttered something under his breath when a tongue moved over the wound on his shoulder. He looked exhausted, his eyes closed and face pinched in pain. Ky still didn’t know Feral much and he really didn’t know where they stood. Feral helped him save Lovely; he helped them all survive the terrible Demencious and kept them from falling into the pit. Ky liked him even if he was mean and surly most of the time.

Decided, Ky shifted down the bed and ducked his head until he was nose to nose with Feral on the mattress. “Did you…? Can I give you some energy, Feral?” Ky felt nervous when Feral opened his eyes. No matter all they went through, Feral’s golden gaze was still as intense and piercing as ever.

Feral didn’t answer right away, and Ky wondered if he was more hurt than first thought. “Are you okay?” He carefully touched one of his ears and watched as the furry triangle pierced with gold twitched under his fingertips.

“That tickles, whelp,” Feral finally muttered and closed his eyes.

“I want to help you,” Ky whispered. He pressed closer until his mouth was right next to Feral’s flushed lips. Feral had beautiful lips; they might even be nicer than Lovely’s since he wasn’t snarling.

“I don’t want help from a sorcerer,” Feral grunted. He gasped and glared to the other side of him when Lovely sank his fangs into his arm in retaliation.

“Oh. I don’t think I’m much of a sorcerer.” Ky’s gaze moved over the cuts revealed on Feral’s jaw. “I mean, I just made a picture. I’m really an artist, right? So… So it should be okay.”

“Taste him, you stubborn thing.” Lovely pushed Feral’s face back toward Ky and held him down. “I took too much from you. You can barely put up a fight.”

Ky wasn’t going to kiss Feral if he insisted against it, even if it would help. Well, maybe just a little. Surely once Feral felt better, he probably wouldn’t be so angry about it. Lovely seemed to think so and held Feral in place while he returned to healing his strong arm with licks of his tongue.

“It’s just a taste, right? To make you feel better.” Ky tilted his head closer, Feral’s annoyed huff hot on his cheek. He licked his tongue out hesitantly. Ky felt more than a little daring to touch Feral’s lips. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bite. “Come on, Feral. Lovely says I taste sweet,” he teased.

“Foolish little whelp,” Feral grumbled. Ky used the opportunity to press his tongue inside his mouth. Feral held still, but Ky was determined and caught him by the side of his face so he could share as much of his fluids as possible.

Feral tasted like copper and something heady. His mouth was hot, and it made Ky dizzy when he ran his tongue over the demon’s in gentle strokes. He knew he was supposed to be helping, but Ky couldn’t stop from feeling crazy hot. His body reacted even when his mind told him he was just sharing energy. He didn’t know how the demons did it all the time.

Ky pulled away with a groan, his lips sore and tongue aching. He wanted more. His body was burning and tense, and he knew if he didn’t stop, he’d upset Feral even more. “Sorry. It’s hard to not get…” He exhaled shakily and flashed Feral a weak smile. “You have a nice mouth.”

Feral growled under his breath. He grabbed Ky by his silky, black hair, and pulled him back forcefully. Ky had a moment to wonder if Lovely would have to heal his face again if Feral started slashing, before his lips were crushed roughly by the demon’s.

“Gentle,” Lovely warned in Feral’s ear as his claws prickled on his neck.

Feral grunted and relaxed the grip on his hair after a moment. He pushed Ky back, crawled up his dazed form and straddled him. Feral’s muscular body pinned his slender form down while Ky stared up with dazed, silver eyes. “Silly little human.” Feral ducked down and drove his tongue into Ky’s gasping mouth; his strong fingers held him by his chin to keep him in place. Slowly, Feral let his hand slide down and caressed his throat and shoulders. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to share your life force with a Relic?”

Ky didn’t have an answer for that. He was too busy whimpering around the tongue pushing into his mouth as Feral tasted him, stole his breath and made him gasp. Large palms ran up his sides and burned against his skin. “Oh. Oh, god,” he moaned. Feral moved down to his pants and shredded them with his claws. Cool air soothed over Ky’s revealed skin.

“Listen to you. You’re always so loud, whelp.” Feral tugged at Ky’s pajama pants. The material ripped away from his legs with a tear. “You beg so nicely when Thornes has you filled. It’s a pleasing sound to wake to, you pretty slut.”

Mitch is a total pervert. Hardcore. Seriously, it’s the second time he’s dared someone to suck his fingers, and if the first time watching Jenna do it wasn’t awkward enough, now he’s looking at my lips while smirking like a total jackass. I know I have a pretty face, but fuck, I’m sick and tired of guys treating me like some fucking girl.

“You can always pick truth,” Jenna offers, looking at me sympathetically.

I can’t. There’s no way I can pick truth. Every time Mitch has gotten a truth he’s asked if the person was a virgin, and there’s no way in hell I’m admitting to that. At least Jake and Dave stepped out to get some soda. The last thing I need is my best friend seeing me sucking Mitch’s fingers like I’m some sort of slut. Bad enough Jenna and Chris are here.

“You chicken, Sullivan?” Mitch asks, his grin only growing as I glare at him. What an asshole.

“You just better have washed your hands,” I mutter, glaring at the offending digits. They look clean enough, nails short with no dirt underneath. Might have some potato chips on them, but that won’t be the end of the world. I just really wish he’d stop looking at me like I’m about to suck his dick.

“Ask Jenna; my fingers are nice and clean.”

I glance over to Jenna, who just shrugs at me. Considering how she’d been grinning the entire time she was sucking on his fingers, I have a feeling she’s too slutty to actually care. This is what I get for hanging with the college kids. They’re Dave’s friends, and Dave is Jake’s brother, so I really can’t make an ass of myself chickening out.

“And hey, if my fingers are dirty, I’m sure you can clean them off real nice,” Mitch adds casually, his brown eyes glinting wickedly from beneath his shaggy blond hair.

I’ve only just met Mitch tonight and I’m pretty sure I hate him.

I’m running out of time. Jake’s going to be back, and I really don’t want him to see this. I hold my hand out, expecting Mitch to give me his fingers so I can lick the stupid things. But the asshole just shakes his head, raising two up in front of my face.

“Open.”

I glare him down, then look over to Chris who has the stopwatch. “Not a second over three minutes. I’m not falling for that again.”

Chris just holds his hands up with an apologetic grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Yeah, he’s an ass too.

“I think you’re stalling,” Mitch whispers, ducking his head closer to mine until he’s in my ear. “It’s just fingers, Sullivan. Not like I’m asking you to suck my cock.”

Fire rushing to my face, I grit my teeth. I totally hate him. He’s just saying that because he wants me to think about his dick while I’m doing this. The kid fucks anything on legs, guys and girls, and he’s just trying to freak me out because he knows I’m a virgin. Fuck him.

Letting out a soft breath, I reach forward, opening my mouth to quickly wrap around his stupid fingers so I can get this done already. He stops me with two words.

“Go slow.”

Glaring at his hand, I part my lips, slowly leaning the last inch forward and praying I manage to give him the plague in some magical fluke of cosmic retribution.

My mouth is really wet by the time I actually feel the two fingers. He’s halfway in my mouth when he touches my tongue. I can’t help but gasp from the feel of the firm pads of his fingertips, my tongue hollowing as I flinch away. Staring down resolutely at the holes in his jeans, I try not to make a noise as he rubs down the rough texture of my flesh, pushing into my building saliva and drawing forward to my wavering tip.

“Suck,” he orders lowly in my ear, his breath burning hot on my cheek.

I want to punch him. He’s trying to make me think about dick, I can tell just by the way he said it. Glaring straight ahead, I tighten my lips reluctantly, doing my best not to feel just how hot and damp his fingers are getting while in my mouth. Tentatively I try to suck around his fingers, my tongue hollowing again and inadvertently caressing against the digits. God, I hate him.

“Harder than that… Good. You’re not bad, Sullivan.” Smirking against my ear, he adds mockingly. “You do this a lot?”

He’s an absolute asshole. Like I go around sucking fingers, or dick—Cus he’s totally really saying that. What a total sick perv, and I can’t even tell him off because he has his fingers in my mouth.

My saliva is building too much, flooding the back of my throat, and I have to swallow or something even more embarrassing will happen. I try to do it in a way he won’t notice, moving my mouth as little as possible. But he still grunts, still pushes his fingers deeper when my throat and tongue convulse. I refuse to meet his eyes. I’m not Jenna. I’m not some slutty chick that just smiles and sucks fingers like I really want it to be dick. I’m a guy, and I just have to wait this fucking dare out.

Mitch isn’t content to let me just sit with his fingers in my mouth. He starts moving, sliding them in and out between my clinging lips, his knuckles rough and tugging at my flesh. Brows furrowed, I breathe heavier out my nose, refusing to acknowledge what he’s doing. It’s not the same. They’re just fingers. I have no plans on sucking a dick anytime in the future, and this is not like sucking dick, no matter how much he’s panting in my ear like a dog right now.

“Fuck, you’re really tight.” His other hand suddenly tangles in my shoulder length blond hair, pushing my head back roughly. I almost open my mouth to complain, but just manage to stop myself. There can’t be more than a minute left, right? Two, tops. Just got to endure the salty taste of his fingers, the firm, rough feel of his flesh a little longer, and it’ll be done.

He pulls my hair harder, and I can’t help it, I whimper. He sighs in my ear like I’m doing it for him, the creep, and pushes his fingers even deeper, moving down my tongue and reaching into my throat.

“That’s it… Fuck, you’re not even gagging. I think you’re a natural.”

Fucking pervert. It’s uncomfortable, my lips stretching wide over his knuckles, my throat convulsing as I fight not to cough. I struggle harder to pull air in, hating how hot his breath is as he suffocates me inside and out.

“Can you take it deeper?” Fuck, I should bite him. “Open your mouth nice and wide, and take me deeper, cutie.”

His fingers scrape the back of my throat and my mouth opens wide as I gasp and choke, spilling hot fluid down my lips and chin. He grabs the nape of my neck, groaning in my ear. When I’m done coughing, his fingers are going deeper before I can protest, his hand keeping me from moving away.

“Fuck, you can really take it deep. We should talk, Sullivan. For real. I think we could be good fucking friends.”

I’d give anything to be able to tell him to fuck off right now. But he’s rubbing my tongue again, trying to make me choke. Saliva is running down my chin, tickling cold on my throat, and I can’t even wipe it away as he thrusts his fingers, making sure to push into my bottom lip each time.

It’s suffocating, and hot, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what it actually feels like to have a dick in your mouth. But a dick is totally bigger, with that slick, swollen head. It would probably fill my entire mouth, probably wouldn’t get so deep. No, this is nothing like that, and he needs to stop grunting in my fucking ear.

“Thirty seconds. Better make them count,” Chris says cheerfully.

I fucking hate Chris; all of Dave’s friends suck. I wish Jake didn’t hang out with his older brother so much. Dave’s a jerk most of the time to me, and apparently his friends are too.

“You’re doing real good. Damn, you’ve got some really red lips, Sullivan. I think I know what my next dare is going to be.” His hand clutching the base of my skull, I can only groan in protest when Mitch’s tongue suddenly licks over my lips. Sick fucking perv.

God, it’s almost over. I know I’m gasping to breathe and everyone can see how red my face is. I close my eyes, hoping to block out Mitch’s cruel grin, trying to ignore his tongue following his fingers as he pushes into my mouth. I can’t help it. I groan again, louder, trying to turn away.

“Mitch, leave the kid alone,” Jenna snaps.

“Make me.” Humming, his tongue moves up the side of my face as he pushes his fingers deep into my throat again. I’m a mess, mortified and can’t breathe around his fingers like I could earlier. He likes it, grunting as he pushed deep in small thrusts. I choke around him, hot tears slipping from beneath my lashes.

“Yeah, we should have some fun, Sullivan,” he rasps into my ear. “I think you’ll like it. I can show you how to swallow something down much thicker than just fingers.”

My groan sounds like a gurgle as he pulls me close and takes my slick bottom lip and holds it tight between his teeth. He bites down, hard, and I gasp, coughing the same moment Chris calls the time and Mitch pulls his fingers from my mouth. I immediately shove him away, hunching forward when I can’t stop hacking.

Asshole. He’s an absolute asshole and I totally hate him.

“What do you say, Sullivan? Wanna meet me in the backyard for a few minutes?” He asks with a shit-eating grin.

Wiping my chin dry with my wrist, I stumble to my feet. “Go fuck yourself.”

I turn, determined to go home and never visit Jake’s again when his brother has friends over, only to stop short. Jake and Dave are standing in the doorway, both of them staring at me with stunned expressions.

How long have they been there? I hadn’t heard anything, but once Mitch had his fingers down my throat I really couldn’t notice much of anything else. I duck my head, hating how flushed I feel with Jake staring at me like that.

“Get out of the way,” I mutter, wincing from how hoarse my voice sounds.

Jake quickly steps back like he’s terrified I’m going to hit him. Good. He should be. I hate Mitch and I hate Jake for inviting me over here. I push past Dave, who’s still staring at me slack-jawed as his eyes move down my body. Fuck him.

“Wait—He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Jake follows after me. “I’ll have Dave beat the crap out of him, swear. Shit, just wait.”

Stopping short at the outer door, I turn, glaring at him in exasperation. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

“Oh… Well, let me walk you, at least,” Jake offers hesitantly.

He’s staring at my mouth. My best friend of eight years is just standing there, staring at my mouth, and I know he’s thinking of what it would look like if his dick was in it. I fucking hate Mitch.

“I don’t suck dick.”

Blinking, red rushes to his cheeks. “I-I never said…”

“You’re staring at my mouth the same way that asshole was,” I snap, flinching as my voice cracks. Fuck. Turning, I push outside into the night air. Jake eventually follows, catching up to my fast pace to walk beside me.

“I’m sorry. I just—Shit, you didn’t see what you looked like.” I glare at him from the corner of my eye. He’s so not fucking helping himself here.

“I don’t suck dick.”

He grabs my arm, holding it tight until I stop walking and glare at him properly. “Yeah, but maybe you really should.”

My hands tighten into fists. I’m two seconds from slugging him. “I will fucking kill you if you ever say something like that to me again.”

“You looked hot. Really fucking hot.” The fucker didn’t even have the decency to blush.

“Fuck you.” I go to leave, but he holds onto my arm. He’s taller than me, stronger, and when I try to wrench free, Jake pulls me back hard enough that I stumble and crash against his chest.

“Come on, B. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He’s got to be out of his fucking mind. I’m so stunned, I stop trying to elbow him. “What, are you telling me you’ve… you’ve sucked dick?”

Blushing, he looks away. “Not exactly.”

“Because if you’re talking about Mitch’s fingers, it’s not the same fucking thing, you asshole. I don’t do that—And don’t you dare fucking say I should,” I add warningly.

He’s quiet for a long moment, but he won’t let go of my arm. I never really noticed just how blue his eyes are. Even in the dark, they damn near glow.

“Just try it, B. Just once… Just me.” Staring me right in the eye, he grabs me by the chin, his thumb moving over my bruised bottom lip. “You looked really good.”

“Don’t,” I whisper weakly, trying to step back and get away from the crazy heat that seems to be coming from every spot he’s touching me. “I don’t…” He has my chin caught and I have this heart pounding, almost certain feeling he’s going to kiss me.

His other hand moves to my wrist, pulling my arm down until it’s trapped hot between our bodies. “Just a little. Just to see if you like it.”

He’s been hanging out with his asshole brother too much. “There is no way in fuck—Oh.”

He’s hard. His hips move again, his hand holding my palm steady so he can rub his erection into it. Holy fuck.

“You might like it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my mouth ever so lightly. “I’ll be nice about it… Let you go at your own pace. I would never hurt you, B.”

I exhale unsteadily, my mouth feeling really wet again, like right before Mitch’s fingers touched my tongue. “Jake… This is fucking weird.”

I should tell him to fuck off. I should hit him, and tell him to fuck off, and never, ever, ever talk to him again. But I can’t stop looking at the way his jeans are tented. And when he lets my palm go so he can pull his zipper down, I don’t step away.

“Get on your knees, B.”

I swallow hard, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Why?” I manage to croak out.

“You know why.” His hand moves from my chin to the side of my face, raking through my long hair. “Seeing you like that got me so hot. It won’t take long. You don’t even have to swallow if you don’t want.”

He’s crazy. Absolutely crazy. But my feet just won’t fucking move. I hear a rustle of fabric and my gaze falls again. Yeah, so that’s what he looks like hard. Bigger than I thought. Really nothing at all like fingers.

“Get on your knees.”

It’ll be fast, right? I mean, he’s really hard, and… And fuck, it might not be that bad. It’s Jake, and he’s hard over me… And he’s big. Probably wouldn’t get as deep as Mitch’s nasty fingers.

Eyes caught on the way his hand is moving over the underside of his shaft, I don’t notice right away when he pushes down my shoulder. It’s not until he puts more pressure on me, my knees swaying, that I realize what I’m doing. My breath stuck somewhere in my throat, I slowly sink to the ground.

Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.

Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.

“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”

Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.

“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”

Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”

“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”

“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”

“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.

Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”

Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.

“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”

“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.

“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.

“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”

“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.

Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.

Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”

“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”

Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”

Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”

Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”

“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.

Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.

“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”

Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”

“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.

“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.

“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.

“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”

Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”

“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”

Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.

“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.

“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”

Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.

Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.

“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.

Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.

Face pressed up tight to the dingy bathroom mirror of his small apartment, eyes slit open so he could just make out his own dazed blue orbs, Beau forced another soap lubed finger into his aching hole. Gasping loudly, he pushed it as deep as he could get, not caring that it stung, that his flesh felt so raw and sore already. He couldn’t stop. It was Friday, he had woken up after dreaming of everything Darien had done to him last Tuesday, and his entire body was crying for more.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, driving his two fingers in deep, gaping when his hole was stretched wider as he spread them. “Fuck, please… Please…”

He was losing his mind.

Whimpering lowly, he began thrusting in and out of his clenching passage, hissing from the feel of his fingers scraping his burning hot flesh. He couldn’t stop. Had been wanting it so bad. Needing it so much. He had tried to hold back, had tried to not be this way, but every time he was alone too long, Beau remembered. And when he remembered, he needed to feel it again. Needed to be taken. Owned. Exposed and humiliated. It was wrong, and so fucked up, and it was making him so unbearably hard.

Pulling his head off the mirror, he panted loudly, his breath bouncing back hot on his face as he took in his creamy skin flushed red, brilliant blue eyes and golden shoulder length hair. His brows were furrowed, mouth open wide, tongue tip brushing his bottom lip as he groaned. He looked like a slut. Like some sort of man whore just begging to be fucked. And he was. He was secretly begging for his muscular, young student to walk into his bathroom and replace his fingers with his own thick ones. Maybe even that big dick of his.

Slamming his fingers deeper into his hole, Beau jerked his hips against the wall, rubbing his aching dick against the cool surface. He released a weak cry, then another as his body clamped down so tight on his digits. Close. God, he was so close. Just thinking about Darien got him so hard, so ready. How the tall boy had pushed him down over his desk, fingered him in front of his students. Humiliated him. Degraded him. Got him off so fucking good.

Beau came with a cry, his cum streaking the wall in long streams as he bucked on his fingers buried deep inside him. Fuck. Fuck, he was losing it.

Panting heavily, he ran his tongue out, licking up the mirror, moaning from the smooth feel of cool glass on his hot flesh. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall, seeking out his dripping cum, licking it off the surface while remembering how Darien had held him by his hair and forced him to lick his desk clean. Beau didn’t stop until he got every drop of his seed, and even then he couldn’t seem to pull away, lapping slow touches until his tongue was sore and his breathing had finally calmed.

***

It was Friday.

Beau had told himself to call out. He had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and told himself out loud that he was going to call out of work that day. Then he had gotten so hard he had stripped his pants off and fucked himself on his fingers. He had already come once that morning when he first woke, his dick so hard from dreams of his student that he barely touched it before he’d orgasmed.

It was crazy just how much he needed sex lately, how hot he got just thinking about Darien. It was wrong, he knew it because he wasn’t thinking about things like how nice the boy was, or how sweet he treated him. No, Beau was getting off on how possessive, rough, and brutal his controlling student was. How Darien had been able to push him up against a wall and grope him so thoroughly that he couldn’t escape, had not wanted to by the time the boy had his hands down his pants. And when he had fingered him, forcing him to bend over in front of his other students and the open classroom door, Beau had gotten so hot, so crazy he hadn’t been able to do anything but let the boy take whatever he wanted from his body.

He was in trouble. He couldn’t keep a straight head, couldn’t seem to find the moral ground that had been so solid before. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t even like men. But he got hard for Darien. Every time the student looked at him—God, touched him. Beau wanted him to touch him. Needed him to make him feel that way again.

What he really needed was to not go to school that day. It was a prestigious college, he was the newest, youngest teacher there, and if he went into work he knew he was going to do something completely inappropriate with a young man that could have him fired in an instant. He should have been fired. After what had happened, he should have been escorted off the grounds and possibly straight into a police cruiser.

But no one had said anything. Beau hadn’t reported the three hooligans that had destroyed his classroom, and the three punks hadn’t said a word to the Dean or authorities about how he’d then gotten on his knees and sucked the dick of the student that had stopped them. He had a strong suspicion Darien Castello was to blame for that as well. Not only was the boy as aggressive as they came, but he also had a senator for a father. Whatever Darien had said to his classmates after the incident had apparently been followed.

Or so, Beau hoped. He was still waiting for the axe to drop. Three days later, he was still unsure just what the hell had happened and if he was going to be able to handle what was coming next.

He still had the bruises on his hips where Darien’s fingers had dug in, the muscular twenty-two-year-old having ground him so tight against his desk it had left marks. He still had the cuts and slashes from the angry boys that had tried to beat him into giving them a passing grade. His hole still ached, still throbbed every time he thought of how Darien had pushed him over his desk and fingered him roughly until he came. All while claiming his teacher belonged to him.

“Fuck,” Beau groaned, hitting the brakes abruptly as the car in front of him stopped. He was hard again. He kept getting hard every time he thought about what had happened. Especially when he heard Darien still in his ear, whispering that he was a nasty, bad slut—his bad teacher, and he needed to be treated like it.

Beau didn’t think he was a bad teacher, not the way Darien had said it. Not really. In his early thirties, he’d only had a short string of respectable, if not extremely tepid relationships, all of them with women willing to overlook his feminine good looks with his silky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and slender form. He had never thought of himself as gay. He had certainly never thought to look at a student in any way that was inappropriate, male or female. But then, he had never met a young man like Darien Castello before.

Tall, black hair streaked with red, green eyes and pure muscular confidence, Darien was everything Beau had hated when he was in college. Mostly because Darien was the type of boy that liked to bully him. Now an established teacher, that had not changed. Even though Darien had been very interested in getting Beau off, he had also done it while extorting his teacher for money with the promise he’d hurt him if he didn’t pay up. And if money wasn’t available, Darien would be more than happy to take it out of his flesh with a good fucking.

His breath speeding up, Beau licked his lips, trying to will his erection away. He could still call out. He could turn the car around, call from his cellphone and pretend to be sick. Sure it was hardly a month into the term but it was just one day. One day to keep from doing something extremely stupid.

What that stupid thing was, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. He had the money. Darien had said he’d accept $50 a week to protect him from the sort of punks that would destroy his classroom and beat him bloody… But only if Beau offered something else in trade. Something sexual. $450 worth of sexual.

Beau had never thought to hire a prostitute, the idea too off-putting and crass. Now he wished he knew someone who had, only so he could get an idea of just what $450 would get with a person like that. Because when Darien’s eyes burned over him, he was pretty sure the young man saw him the same way most men looked at a hooker. Someone with a price that once reached would give them anything and everything.

Except Beau was the one paying Darien. To protect him. Maybe… maybe to look at him the way the boy kept doing. Maybe even to touch him, if he could face that thought as well. Maybe to make him do the many dirty, messed up things Darien wanted to do to him and a secret, naughty part of Beau desired to do. Like suck the boy’s thick cock as thanks for beating up his attackers.

“Go home,” Beau whispered, biting his lip and staring down the street where he could just make out the clock tower of the college administrative building. “Call out sick, and go home.” He ran his hand down the front of his pants, hissing softly as he pressed against his hard erection.

He had managed to not be fired for the incident. He had managed to not have his name dragged through the papers in some huge scandal over his cocky, handsome extortionist of a student. He wouldn’t be so lucky this time. It was tempting fate. Tempting the little good left in him.

Would you like that, Mr. Ashford? Do you want everyone to know you belong to me? Do you want to belong to me?

Darien’s voice again taunting in his ear, Beau took the turn into the college gates, driving to the faculty parking lot. He kept his mind blank, kept his expression flat, his mouth grim. It was just a day like any other day. Just a Friday. Just the day he decided if he was going to let Darien Castello bully him back onto his knees, maybe over his desk again, and give the boy everything he wanted.

“Hey, teach.”

Head ducked as he washed his hands at the sink, Beau shivered from the familiar voice, his eyes lifting up to the mirror. Darien. The dark haired, green-eyed boy somehow looked even taller that day, his muscular form on full display in a tight black t-shirt and clinging jeans, biceps revealing tattoos under the short sleeves.

Beau’s hands shook as he turned the faucet off, catching his own wide blue eyes in the mirror beneath his shoulder length blond hair. He was already panting, already growing hard, his cheeks flushing as Darien stared at him through the mirror, eyes moving over him hungrily and lingering on his bow tie.

“Mr. Castello, will you be joining my class today?” Beau asked, his voice hoarse as he made himself reach for a paper towel instead of falling to his knees like his body was screaming to do.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.” Darien watched his teacher patiently, waiting for Beau to dry his hands before addressing him again. “But I figured if I was going to let you teach me today, Mr. Ashford, it would be better to get something out of the way first.”

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Beau swallowed down the saliva building in this mouth. “Y-Yes?”

Darien crossed the distance in two strides, grabbing Beau roughly by the shoulders. “Put that mouth of yours to good work, teach. On your knees. Now.”

“Oh, fuck,” Beau groaned, his knees buckling when Darien pushed him down to the ground, his student’s large hands keeping him from swaying as he hit the floor. Fingers trembling, Beau tore at the boy’s fly while resting his head on his hip and giving in to the urge to breathe the brunette in. God, he was so strong. Made him feel safe. So dirty and protected.

“Better not dawdle, Mr. Ashford. Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in while you have my dick in your mouth,” Darien taunted, grabbing the blond by his hair and grinding his cock against the man’s cheek.

Fire and fear shuddering through him at the idea of getting caught, Beau pulled back enough to glance at the bathroom door. If anyone walked in they’d see Darien’s legs first. But it would only take a step, maybe two to see him after. Beau’s hair was recognizable—It would be so easy to identify him. He looked up at the brunette, whimpering lowly when intense green eyes burned into his.

“Open, pretty teach. Show me how much you missed me over the weekend.”

Staring up, Beau parted his lips, opening his mouth until Darien pulled him roughly by his hair and forced his head back. Groaning in the hold, Beau turned his gaze down to the large, thick dick of his student, taking in how hard and ready Darien already was to put it in him. He tried to lick the tip, wanting to taste it, wanting to have that thick flesh filling his mouth, but Darien kept pulling him back by his hair, Beau’s tongue outstretched while the teacher whimpered.

“God, you look like such a slut. You make me want to fuck you up so bad, teach.” Grunting, Darien shoved his dick between the blond’s parted lips, forcing Beau to hold still so he could get as deep as possible into his throat.

Eyes rolling back, Beau fought the wish to breathe, to choke or gag. He held himself still, letting Darien thrust into him shallowly, hitting the back of his throat with each pump. He couldn’t comprehend just how hard he was right now. A minute ago he had been tired but ready to teach his last class of the day, and now he was on his knees sucking his student’s cock. He felt so used and it was making him unbearably hard.

Beau glanced again at the bathroom door, groaning as his tonsils were ground by that blunt cockhead filling him again and again. God, if someone walked in he’d be ruined. He knew it. It didn’t matter if Darien’s father was a senator or not—There would be no fixing being caught like this.

It should have freaked him out, but Beau kept looking at the door hoping it would open. He wanted to be discovered. He wanted people to see Darien using him, getting off on his body, his mouth, his ass. The more he thought of it, the hotter he got, his entire body flushed and dizzy as he gave in to every relentless, gliding thrust of his student’s cock.

Growling, Darien held Beau tight against his body as he filled his throat, forcing two fingers into his mouth beneath his thick cock and making the blond open wider to him. “Fuck, that’s it. My fucking beautiful hole, look at you.” He rubbed Beau’s tongue while humping his face slowly, his dick swelling, balls tightening as he got close. “Hold on, teach. Just hold that slutty pose for a little longer.”

Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, Beau gurgled at the first splash of cum against the back of his throat, trying to swallow and failing. Darien’s cock suddenly withdrew, sperm streaming over the blond’s face as the boy graffitied his teacher’s skin in a seemingly endless hot rain.

Breathing heavily, Darien grabbed the blond by the back of his neck, pulling Beau back so he could take in the lines of cum all over his face. “Fuck, teach. You are a bad, bad man. Absolutely filthy.”

His mouth still hanging open, Beau gasped up at the brunette, eyes pleading for more.

“You close, Mr. Ashford?” Darien asked, his voice a low growl as he pushed three fingers into the blond’s gaping mouth and began to fuck him with the thick digits.

Beau couldn’t answer, mouth full, head caught too tight to even nod. But he could see that Darien knew. Could see it in the boy’s expression as he drank in every sight of Beau taking his fingers while dripping in his cum.

Beau moaned when he felt the touch of a sneaker to his hard dick, Darien holding his gaze while rubbing his shoe over his teacher’s erection. Beau struggled to talk around the fingers pushing deep into his throat, wanting to say that he needed to get his pants down. But Darien wouldn’t let up, and the boy gave a very demanding growl when Beau went to try to unzip.

Hands freezing, Beau’s face grew even redder, unable to look away from his student’s hungry glare above him. “You can clean your face, teach, that’s it. I want you in class wet with cum. You’re a bad teacher. My bad teacher. Even when you’re being good, I want you to still be filthy for me.”

Whimpering in agony, Beau bucked against the unyielding toe of his student’s sneaker, his body so tight, ass clenching, thighs hard as he jerked his release in hot spurts. Flushed and dizzy, he let Darien pull him to his feet, only to be slammed up back against the counter as the brunette crushed his lips to his and forcefully plundered his mouth with his tongue.

Pulling away just as abruptly, Darien pushed the blond’s disheveled hair from his face, staring into Beau’s dazed blue eyes as he took in his tears, cum, shame, and lust.

“You’re going to want to touch yourself during class, Mr. Ashford. You’re going to see me watching you, you’re going to get hard, and you’re going to want to touch yourself. Don’t.” Darien bent down, pressing his lips lightly to Beau’s dripping red ones. “I’ll be watching the whole time. No touching; I’ll punish you if you do. Now clean up before you’re late.”

Feeling completely lost and befuddled, Beau watched silently while Darien turned and left, his student giving him a final heated once over before the bathroom door swung shut.

Darien Castello could not take his eyes off of Mr. Ashford. The guy had the face of a model; a really naughty one that wanted so badly to be pushed down and messed up. Damn, he had never really gotten off on just a face, but with his soft blond locks, bright blue eyes, and pouting red lips, Darien was totally hooked on his new teacher. Unfortunately, so were his classmates.

Mr. Ashford looked like prey, plain and simple. He was average height, slender, and had a way to his shoulders and walk that just screamed ‘jump me.’ Currently Tony and Radford were doing just that. They had cornered the new science teacher by the lockers and looked ready to start punching and maybe even stuffing if they didn’t get some cash off the cutie.

Darien took his time, dragging on his cigarette as he approached. No one had noticed him yet, which was fine by him. He wanted to take the opportunity to look at Mr. Ashford up close. The guy was hot. Really fucking hot. Pale skin, golden hair, and damn those lips. The nasty things he would do to those lips. Radford better not punch the man’s face or he’d have to beat the fuck out of him for ruining perfection.

“What’s going on, guys?” Darien casually slung his arms over Tony and Radford’s shoulders. Both of his classmates immediately froze. Darien was top dog for a reason. He was the tallest kid in school, the strongest, and when the mood struck him, the meanest motherfucker there was. Everyone knew. The ones that didn’t, figured it fast. Mr. Ashford would be getting that privilege soon enough.

“Fuck, hey Darien,” Tony said hesitantly. He glanced sideways at the tall brunette who had crept up behind them. When his eyes fell on Darien’s bicep right next to his face—the flesh hard and tattooed—he swallowed. “We were just having a chat with the new teacher. Nothing to get involved in.”

Darien’s gaze traveled over the blushing teacher who was currently glaring holes at the three students as he tried to straighten his rumpled shirt. Darien took his cigarette from his mouth. “Ah, well that’s where you’re wrong. I happen to have Mr. Ashford for fourth period. And if you’re messing him up, well, that’s going to mess up my grade.” Darien fixed on Tony again. “You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?”

Radford immediately took a step back and ducked from his heavy arm. “Right, so I’m getting the fuck out. Sorry ’bout that, Mr. Ashford.”

Darien smirked at the incredulous expression on the man’s face when Radford apologized. “Um, don’t think anything of it,” Beau mumbled as he straightening his tie.

“What about you, Tony?” Darien asked, his voice full of implication.

Starting, Tony winced. “Hey, I got the message loud and clear. You wanna be teacher’s pet? By all means.” He went to duck away, but Darien grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Tony sideways while he hissed.

“Wallet.”

Glaring, Tony reached into his back pocket and slammed the leather into Darien’s hand. Flipping it open, Darien raised his brow at his ever watching teacher. “This all of it?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Beau answered, expression full of surprise and gratitude.

Damn, he had amazing eyes. Sexy, wide, glowing blue eyes. Not bothering to look at Tony, Darien shoved the punk aside and listened to him huff away. He used the time to study his new teacher, one he hadn’t met until that moment. That was definitely going to change.

Darien let his gaze move from Beau’s handsome face, sturdy shoulders, and down his lithe body still trembling in aftershock. Sexy. Sexy, and sleek, and in desperate need of a very hard fucking.

There was no way he was letting things end here.

“You’re Darien Castello?” Voice quiet, Beau combed shaking fingers through his shoulder length locks. His gaze had strayed to where the other two had dissapeared, as if just waiting for them to turn around and come at him.

“That would be me, teach.” Tilting his head, Darien offered the man a drag on his cigarette. When Mr. Ashford shook his head, Darien finished it off, then dropped it to the hallway floor. He crushed it carelessly with his heel.

“You really shouldn’t…” Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened when Darien pushed him back and blocked him in with his taller, stronger form.

“You saw how easy that was for me, right teach? I just showed up, and those losers walked away.”

“Y-Yes, I was meaning to thank you.”

Darien smirked. The guy had the cutest fucking stutter too. “You might want to hold off on that.”

He opened up the wallet again, pulled out the cash and counted it while Mr. Ashford watched him with growing trepidation. “I’m going to take this… $300, and you’re going to bring me another $200 by Friday.”

“I am?” Mr. Ashford’s eyes narrowed even as his voice broke.

“It’s a good deal.” Cash now free of the wallet, Darien slowly snaked his hand around until he found his teacher’s back pocket. Ducking closer, he slowly pushed his hand into the man’s pants, watching intently as Mr. Ashford blushed and refused to meet his eyes.

Yeah, the guy was smoking hot and definitely interested. What it would take to get him to admit that interest, Darien was looking forward to figuring out.

He left the wallet but not before stealing a small squeeze of that tight, firm ass. “You pay me $500 a week, and I’ll make sure guys like that don’t mess up your pretty face.”

“You’re out of your mind—Ah.” His eyes closed as Darien’s arm suddenly pressed across his throat and he fell silent, head forced back against the locker.

“Mr. Ashford, it would be really easy for me to hurt you. And believe me, I wouldn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.” No, Darien would love every moment of covering this hot man with as many bruises as he could handle. Moving his head so that he was pressing his mouth to his ear, he added softly, “But if you’re a good boy and you do as I say, I’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you as long as I’m here to protect you.” Mr. Ashford gave the slightest of tremors and Darien fought back a smile. “It’s not a free service, teach. If you don’t want to pay me in cash, I might be willing to accept a trade.”

He slowly pulled a lock of Mr. Ashford’s hair aside, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. “I can think of a lot of things a sexy guy like you could do for me, teach.” His eyes locked with stunning blue, Darien pushed a thumb against those damn enticing red lips and smirked when Mr. Ashford gasped and turned his head away.

“Think about it. Next Friday once school gets out. Your room.” He pulled away, eyes lingering on the man’s lithe form. Mr. Ashford’s face was flushed with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and shame. It was sexy as hell, and Darien could think of a million ways to make him look like that all the time—starting with forcing him to his knees.

Fuck, it was his teacher’s fault for having such a damn sexy face. He might as well be begging for it.

Darien walked away whistling, hands folded behind his head. Breathing heavily, Mr. Ashford leaned weakly on the wall and watched him go.