Why couldn’t this damn holiday be over already?

Joshua gave Max a final ruffle to his golden fur that was currently dusted in snow, then shooed the dog towards the garage where it could dry off without making a mess of the house. His father was at the mailbox down their long, flat driveway, peering into the small metal container with a contemplative look on his face. They had managed to ignore mail for the entire week of Joshua’s winter vacation, but apparently Christmas Eve had been the deciding factor for his dad to tackle the growing pile. He wanted to celebrate the holidays without having to think of any bills or thank-you notes.

Joshua’s nerves were at their breaking point. He couldn’t even blame it on the holiday. No, it had been a subdued affair this year. His dad knew college was crushing him and had insisted on just having the time for the two of them. The woman his father had been seeing for the last few months hadn’t worked out. Joshua didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated by it all. The longer he was left alone with his dad, the more stressed he was getting.

His dad was great, just to be clear. Kyle Wright was about the most perfect man ever—hell, a superman even. Joshua’s mother had passed away over ten years ago, but his dad had never faltered once. No, he had gotten an extra job and then clawed tooth and nail to the top of the tech industry so that he could have time to spend with his son instead of leaving him at the neighbors all the time. Joshua was super proud of his dad. Which was why it sucked extra that it was awkward as fuck to be around him.

He didn’t want to ruin the holidays—not that he was enjoying things much. No, even though his goal was to not to bring it up, Joshua couldn’t make his brain stick to that rule. It kept spinning around in his mind, again and again.

He might be gay… Gay, or really confused. Gay, or at least interested in being fucked.

Probably gay. Maybe.

Tearing his mittens from his hands, Joshua pulled his keys from his pocket and made his half-frozen fingers open the front door. The heat of the house hit him square in the face, and he paused. It felt nearly suffocating when stepping in compared to the crisp winter air outside. The snow he had barely noticed began to immediately melt, creating rivulets of water that dripped down his hair and face he had to blink away from his eyes.

Joshua had caught his dad, well, jerking off that summer break. Awkward. Really fucking awkward. See, there had been this magazine. One of those magazines that existed for one reason, and it wasn’t for reading the articles. He still wasn’t sure where his dad had gotten it… He still wasn’t sure about a lot of things. Joshua had walked past the bathroom one morning only to find the door ajar and his father staring at a magazine. Staring at it while touching himself.

It had been the first dick besides his own he had seen in real life, and for some confusing reason, it had been fascinating. So large when fully erect, so thick and turgid as his father’s strong hand had moved confidently up and down the flushed length. Joshua had suspected he might like boys as well as girls before then. In that moment, he realized just how attractive a man was. A large, fully developed, muscle rippling man with a dick the length of a ruler.

He had watched, silent, saliva filling his mouth, hyper-alert to every sound his father made. The soft grunts, low, masculine sighs, and noise of his lubed cock sliding and then slapping louder in his fist when he pumped in earnest. The growl his father had released right before he came had sent such intense shivers through him that Joshua still had the bad habit of getting hard whenever he heard his father growl at something in anger.

Just thinking about it now got him so hard. Hard and panting and wishing he could stop this insanity. Not that it had been the last time he had tried to spy on his father that summer. No, his curiosity had not been sated by one very dirty peep show. And dirty it had been. His father had blown his load all over the pages, Joshua seeking out the ruined magazine in curiosity once his father had left.

He had turned to the page Kyle had been looking at, identifying it as the one coated in thick streaks of his semen. Joshua had assumed he’d find a woman that looked a bit like his late mother, or maybe even the very large breasted one on the cover coated in clear latex who had displayed every inch of herself with fingers splaying her inner lips. No, not on that page. His father’s choice had been far more revealing in ways Joshua still couldn’t get his mind around. It had been of a brunette bent forward on knees, the camera focused on a toned back where his hands were bound in rope. His legs had been spread wide to straddle the hips of an unseen man whose hands were holding his cheeks open wide for the camera.

It had started Joshua’s fascination with two subjects that had yet to bore him no matter how much he researched: bondage and anal sex. Gay anal sex.

The familiar wash of desire and shame hit him full force. He groaned softly and leaned his weight against the front door until it shut tight. He still wouldn’t call himself gay… Not really. He didn’t think of guys that way… A lot. Fuck, okay, just sometimes he really wondered what his dad thought of guys like that. It always got him so hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about it until he got off.

He could count on his left hand how many times he had actually dared to buy a dirty magazine and leave it out in the hopes of his father doing it again. He knew he was sick—he fucking knew it—and he was grateful that Kyle had never risen to the bait. Because if he had… Fuck, he never would have stopped trying to lure him. It had gotten to the point that Joshua had fantasies of coating himself in pages of filthy magazines if only to get his father to look at him the way he had been looking at that image.

There was something wrong with him. Really fucking wrong with him. In that one moment, he had stopped seeing Kyle Wright as just a father. Instead, he had seen him as a sexual being and hadn’t been able to differentiate since.

Not just any sexual being. His. Connected and existing just for him with the most beautiful blue eyes ever.

Stepping into the house, Joshua kicked his snow-coated boots off. He bent over, clunking the wet footwear together until they were free of the quickly melting slush, then placed them on the rubber mat by the wall right in front of the heater vent. His heavy winter coat ended up hanging above on the series of hooks just for that purpose. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of his father through the window in the growing dusk outside, the blond man’s rugged, handsome face fixed on the mail as he slowly drifted down the snow coated driveway.

It wasn’t hard for his dad to be a sexual figure if he were honest. Kyle wasn’t old the way a lot of his friends’ dads were old, and not just because he had only been 24 when he had started a family. He was still fit, still sharp witted and jovial. Kyle could catch him in a joke faster than anyone else, and race him for a soccer ball and still win if Joshua didn’t try his hardest. His dad worked out, ate healthy, took care of himself. He even dated, a bittersweet occurrence for Joshua. Recently, he half hoped Kyle would find someone while cheering inwardly when he didn’t. Stupid—He knew it was fucking stupid, and selfish, and damn crazy.

He would do anything to make his dad happy, even if it meant never bringing any of this stuff up. He wasn’t ever going to tell him how messed up he felt—He didn’t need to burden his father with something that weighed so heavy on his own heart. A part of him was certain the only reason he wanted to talk to Kyle about his confusions over his sexuality was because he was secretly hoping he would start looking at him as available sexually. Joshua knew he was fucked up and he couldn’t even trust his motives when it came to his dad.

It wasn’t normal; he knew that. There was nothing normal about it at all. It didn’t stop the feelings, though. No matter how much he yelled at himself in his head, nothing stopped how crazy he felt. How hot he got just being in the same room as his dad, how much he thought of the man’s body, his dick, that growl whenever he masturbated. Joshua knew it was wrong and he couldn’t stop it, and he really needed for Christmas to be over so he could get the fuck out of the house and away from his unbearably sexy dad.

Going away to college hadn’t fixed anything. Joshua had tried to hook up with a guy just to see. He had thought maybe he could get it out of his system, but all his timid experimentations with a boy his age had proven to be boring and lacking in the fire he got from his very active imagination. He had even considered hitting on his teacher who was about his dad’s age but, well, the guy was married, for starters, and it just kind of went downhill after that.

Coming home to his dad with no one there to interrupt, to distract, to be witness to the insane lust burning in him had been the worst. Knowing Kyle was sleeping just feet down the hall had made everything so difficult. Every time he touched himself while lying in bed, the level of danger had grown. It would have been nothing to let his moans ring out. So easy to gasp and cry for relief until his father heard him and came to see what was wrong. And once he was there, Joshua would beg him to stay, just to stand there and watch while he touched himself. Maybe even have him come closer, touch him, taste… cover him in his hot cum like the pages of that magazine.

No, it hadn’t gotten better at all.

Returning home with such crazed thoughts had filled him with even worse guilt. His dad had clearly missed him and was woefully oblivious to just how fucked up he was. Kyle was hanging in there, putting up a strong front, but Joshua could tell. They used to do everything together. But going off to college had grown Joshua’s lust into something damn near insatiable and bigger than him. It had made everything so awkward. Even if his dad didn’t understand why, he just couldn’t change the fact that it was never going to not be awkward. Not when he had spent half the walk that evening staring at his dad’s ass and wondering if the man had ever fucked a guy.

Had he? That magazine had been full of women and some men, but his dad had gotten off on looking at the guy. He had chosen to drizzle cum all over that picture out of all the ones available. It had to mean something.

Dripping water onto the floor, Joshua’s socked feet slipped on the tile at the base of the carpeted stairs before he peeled them free from his clammy toes. He paused once reaching the top of the steps, the Christmas tree lights casting a soft, magical glow in the otherwise dark, empty space.

They lived in what average people would call a mansion. It was too big, too empty, but his father said it was an investment in real estate more than anything else. Joshua had grown used to it, even if the place still gave him the creeps when it was dark out and he was alone. It was partly why they had gotten Max when he was a kid. He barely remembered their last house, the one his mom had died in from a carbon monoxide leak from their old, faulty heater. Kyle insisted in having a CO detector in every room of the house now, just to be safe.

The carpet was quickly growing damp beneath his feet. Joshua shucked off his jeans, his mind hot on a shower. The material was half frozen, sticking to his chilled thighs as he tugged the jeans down and off. He rolled his pants up with his socks into a ball and tucked it all under his arm. He just needed a fresh towel and he’d be able to warm the hell up and jerk. God, he needed to fucking cum so bad. Returning home had put him in a near permanent state of arousal that no amount of masturbating seemed to be able to alleviate fully.

He ran his free hand over his erection through his red briefs, his steps faltering for a moment in the hall that led to the bedrooms. His father had just done laundry… Just, the idea of going into his room while hard and thinking of him was probably crossing a line.

The garage door gave a shudder right before it opened, echoing quietly through the house. Kyle was seeing to Max. Joshua could probably get off on his father’s bed and have time to clean up the mess if he was fast enough. Just thinking about it made his balls ache. It’s not like his dad would know. It’s not like he didn’t come all over the shower walls just anticipating his father was going to be in there after…

No, there was nothing normal about it. He had some fucked up obsession that he was losing control over.

His mind was hot with inappropriate thoughts and Joshua twisted the hem of his shirt and tried to take it off one handed as he walked. His shirt obscuring his vision, he didn’t see the man standing in his father’s bedroom, the tall figure between him and the pile of clean laundry on the bed.

“Damn.”

Freezing, Joshua realized with a stutter to his heart that the voice had come from in front of him and not behind. He slowly lowered his arm, unwittingly ruffling his dirty blond hair up as he pulled his shirt free and got a good look at the stranger. There was a click, and his eyes widened to take in the gun pointed at his head.

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.

Ryan Moss had just stepped in the door and already regretted coming to school. He could feel the heat coming over him, each wave stronger than the last and threatening to cascade into a fever he wasn’t sure he could contain. He had to, he had exams and classes and needed to keep his fucking shit together. It was just getting surprisingly difficult.

He hadn’t actually expected to actually feel hot but, fuck, he was seriously sweating. His backpack felt attached to his flesh, his thin t-shirt nothing more than a second skin at this point. He had jogged to school like he always did, the morning air a cool contrast to the exercise, but his body wasn’t responding right. He had gotten there in half the time, his first class not starting for another twenty minutes. The muscles of his strong, tanned, six-foot-seven-inch frame were bulging and currently drenched with moisture, his dark bangs dripping into his pale eyes covered by sunglasses. He didn’t dare take the lenses off; his normally deep blue eyes had turned nearly white, his pupils a pinprick and reflecting the torment of his inner wolf.

Fuck, he was feeling really hot. Horny. Had he mentioned horny? Crazy, hot, and horny. He was about ready to hump the library book drop-off slot, he was feeling so crazy. Damn Mr. Menson and his fucking calculus exam.

His older brother Will had warned him, had told him how it hadn’t mattered how determined and focused he was, there was no fighting the heat. But Will wasn’t like him. Will belonged in the woods with the rest of their family while Ryan passed with the humans. No one had pegged him for a werewolf the last twenty years of his life and if he could just make it through this week, he was damn sure he could make it through a lifetime pretending to be two-legged and furless with an actual fucking career.

Being the first werewolf to graduate in his family probably would have been a bigger deal if his family gave a fuck. They didn’t. Ryan was a bit of the laughingstock with his wild relatives who were more than happy to dance under the moon after howling and hunting their dinner first. Not that he had anything against being a wolf. But times were changing—Fuck, they were already so changed that the pack was facing extinction. His family was screwing around in the woods instead of learning how to defend their land from the encroaching companies looking to mine through land and animal alike for dwindling fossil fuels.

Maybe it was unrealistic to hope his wild cousins would skin up and lawyer up after a lifetime of rooting around in the forest. Maybe he was a total tool for thinking he could fix what they had failed to even attempt. Well, besides the murdering. The pack had gotten damn good at killing the poor innocents that trespassed on their land for drilling. It was a problem, one Ryan was hoping to eventually solve no matter how dismissive his family got about him leaving the pack.

And fuck, now he was hard.

What part of needing to become the smartest fucking werewolf out there and get into law was getting him hard?

Growling to himself, Ryan pulled at his shirt, the soaked material stubbornly sticking to his skin even though he was in the air-conditioned hallway that led to his class. It did nothing helpful, his nerve endings tingling from the simple feel of fabric against his flesh, his nipples peaking, cock twitching. His calculus class was right after his first-period history class with Mr. Edwards. He just needed to get through the stupid exam and he could go home and masturbate until he was raw.

This thought hot in the forefront of his mind, Ryan forced himself to walk towards his next class, trying to ignore the way his skin was tingling, his muscles puffed up too large, stature too aggressive and intimidating. He knew he was acting more wolf than man that day and he was having a hard time curbing the beast. It was horny—unbearably horny—and the damn thing kept fixating, staring at every person that dared close, scenting, seeking. Thank fuck the place was nearly deserted. Showing up early had one good advantage. God, he needed sex. Preferably with a drop dead sexy guy with strong thighs and hard abs. Someone strong enough to handle the marathon of fucking his wolf was up for. It would be a marathon. A week at least, if he found a sexy enough body he could convince to spread for him.

“Mr. Cooper, I was clear with you. Take it up with the Administration board if you think you’re being treated unfairly. I don’t care. Just get the hell out of my class.”

“Bullshit! Do you even know how much money my parents donate to this shit joke of a school? I need to pass this course!”

Ryan rolled his eyes as Shane Cooper’s privileged, snobby ass voice reached his super sensitive hearing through the door that led to his first class of the day. Shane and him had gone to grade school together, giving Ryan many a year to hate the obnoxious bully. Shane thought he was better than everyone. More so, that he deserved to be better than everyone just because the kid’s parents were richer than fuck. Ryan had spent the better part of his education finding himself in competition with the rich snob. Not because he was trying to compete with the kid but because Shane hated anyone smarter than him. Ryan was happy to say he was fucking smarter. He was stronger, faster, and had all intentions of beating Shane Cooper at anything the annoying fucker challenged him at. Seeing the blond’s face flushed with anger every time he beat him only made it sweeter.

Professor Edwards seemed even less impressed with Shane’s parents if Ryan guessed by the man’s next words. “I have warned you numerous times what would happen if you continued to be late for my class, Mr. Cooper. If you can’t be bothered to show up on time, I can’t be bothered to teach you.”

Ryan could see where this was going, two other students already kicked out of their history class since the semester started. Shane apparently could too, his tone changing to one of pleading. “I told you, I have swimming practice. I get here as soon as humanly possible and—”

“It is not my fault that you didn’t plan your schedule better. Perhaps dropping my class would be a boon to you.”

“Damn it, please, Professor. I need this class. Can we work something out? I’m sure you could use a little help towards retirement and I’m always happy to donate to education.”

“Fucktard,” Ryan sighed. He counted silently to himself, giving his professor enough credit for not actually slugging the annoying brat.

“Mr. Cooper, I will give you a week to allow you to reconsider your stance on this particular topic.”

“What… what do you mean?”

“I mean I will be informing the Dean of this conversation. If you are seen on school property during the next week, you will be permanently expelled. The next time you arrive for my class in a week’s time you can either be on time or expect to be removed from it. Now leave.”

The door to the class snapped open, Ryan stepping back before Shane could storm into him. The tall blond stopped short on seeing him, his angry scowl only growing. “Get the fuck out of my way, faggot.”

Ryan refused, too busy staring at the angry boy. Shane Cooper was the absolute bane of his existence but today his wolf was at the surface and the animal didn’t seem to give a fuck about that. No, it was too busy howling at the way Shane’s broad shoulders stretched his stupid preppy shirt and his designer jeans clung to his hips and tight, muscular ass. Damn, he could fuck that. Hell, he wouldn’t even have to bag the kid—Shane was hot all around except for his ugly-ass mouth with the stupid shit he was always saying. His dirty blond hair was kept short and spiky, making his nearly black eyes look even more intense when the kid glared at him. All he’d have to do is gag the annoying punk and then he could happily fuck him senseless. Shane would look good in a gag. In a gag and absolutely nothing else.

Closing his eyes, Ryan took a steadying breath and tried to calm his suddenly pounding heart. Fuck, he really shouldn’t have come in today. He had to be fucked in the head to ever think of Shane Cooper as fuckable. He hated Shane. Absolutely hated him.

There had been a time when Shane had been taller than him. The blond had taken huge amounts of joy in it even though Ryan had always been able to outrun the annoying fucker. Now Ryan’s bicep was nearly thicker than Shane’s head. Even though he was well aware of it, the blond who was half a head shorter than him seemed oblivious as he snarled and went to push past him.

Shane hit him square in the chest but Ryan didn’t budge, a soft growl rising up from the brunette as he caught a whiff of the boy’s scent. Holy fuck, yeah, he could totally hit that. Not only did he look like sex, the kid smelled like it too. Ryan’s wolf gave another inner howl, heat rushing over his skin like wildfire.

“I said, get the fuck out of my way, you fudge packing, panty wearing fairy!” Shane went to shove him but Ryan was faster. He grabbed the blond’s wrist, ignoring the hiss it was met with when he squeezed too tight. Shane might have thought he was tough shit, but against a werewolf, the boy’s perfect swimmer’s body might as well have been ornamental. With an angry snarl, Shane went to punch him with his free hand, Ryan easily catching that one as well and pinning it in his larger palm.

Looking into the boy’s dark, wide eyes, Ryan did everything he could to fight the beast inside him that was demanding he push Shane Cooper against the wall, tear his tight jeans down, and fuck him raw.

“Moss, get the fuck off me.”

There was a new tightness to the blond’s voice, something that broke through the hazy heat trying to steal Ryan’s mind completely. Shane was not a werewolf. Fuck, he wasn’t even a potential mate—The kid was an angry, gay hating, rich punk that couldn’t face the real world without his parents’ money to fix all his fuck ups.

God, but he smelled so fucking good. Looked so fucking tight and hard and fucking hot. The stupid fucker could get in his face and talk shit all he liked, just as long as he kept smelling like that. Fuck, he wanted to rape him. Just a little. Just until the blond was begging. He could make Shane beg. He could make him beg like a good bitch. Or just cripple the annoying fucker and do whatever the fuck he wanted to him.

Fuck, he was turning into a total psycho. Ryan dropped Shane’s hands before he could convince himself otherwise, turning and taking two large strides away, his breath loud in his ears. The heat was only getting stronger and the annoying little punk just smelled so good to him. Bullshit—Fucking bullshit. He hated Shane.

“What the fuck is your problem, Moss?” Shane snapped, rubbing his wrist, a red mark threatening to turn purple where the brunette had grabbed him. “Choke on the wrong side of the dick today?”

God, he fucking hated him. Ryan started down the hall, not caring if he missed his history class and failed his calculus exam. He needed to get the fuck out before he did something stupid and potentially dangerous. He should have listened to his brother. Should have never tried to fight his wolf nature and just hid away in the woods until the heat left him. Fuck, he could still smell the annoying fucker!

Ryan whirled, Shane right behind him, the blond’s expression twisted in a wicked smirk suggesting he was about to make another rude, smart-ass remark. “Get the fuck away from me, Cooper.”

“Like fuck, you faggot freak. I think you sprained my wrist. I’m totally going to sue your pansy ass for assault.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryan tried to take a steadying breath. It might have worked on a normal day but today his vision was full of a throbbing red that had never been there before, his blood pounding loud in his ears, muscles tense with restrained force. Every inhale only surrounded him with more of the strange, enticing scent of the blond before him, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands at his sides.

“I’m going to take you for everything you own, Moss. All twenty-five dollars and seventeen cents.”

Asshole. The motherfucking asshole. He went to turn away, growling when he felt Shane move, the blond rushing forward to shove him. Snapping around, he grabbed Shane by the collar, slamming him hard against the wall of lockers no one ever used but the college insisted on having.

“Shit,” Shane hissed, grabbing uselessly at the large hand effortlessly holding him in place. He stilled when Ryan pulled his sunglasses free, nearly white, inhuman eyes staring back at him. “What the fuck?”

“You really don’t want to mess with me right now,” Ryan said, his voice a low, husky growl, strange pale eyes burning into Shane’s. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward, inhaling deeply of the blond’s scent and listening to Shane’s breath hitch in surprise. Sexy. So fucking angry and sexy. The things he would do to this kid. Nasty, degrading things and it would be so easy.

“Be good for me, Cooper,” Ryan murmured, letting his lips press to the boy’s jaw for a fleeting second, his dick throbbing from the light contact. “Be good and shut that sexy mouth of yours for one damn minute so I can get the fuck out of here.” He let the blond go abruptly, immediately regretting it as he took a step away, his piercing gaze pinning Shane in place. Fuck, it would be so easy. Shane was weak and he was strong. His wolf knew what that meant. The creature understood all too well what happened to weak things that crossed their path. They were used. Broken. Devoured in all the many ways one could devour a hot, tasty morsel like Shane Cooper.

Daring him on, he flashed the blond a condescending smile, Shane’s eyes widening when he caught sight of Ryan’s elongated fangs. He watched uncertainty flicker on the blond’s face, quickly replaced by hot embarrassment and anger as Shane pushed himself off the wall of lockers and took a stalking step towards him. It felt like slow motion to Ryan’s enhanced wolf senses when the blond pulled his arm back, winding up to punch him like the hotheaded, tasty bitch he was.

Grinning fiercely, Ryan grabbed the boy by the bicep, spun him with a rough wrench, and slammed him chest first against the lockers, pinning him with his chest and hips. Before he could fully understand what he was doing, Ryan’s fangs slid deep into the juncture where Shane’s neck met his shoulder, hot, tangy blood flowing onto his tongue in a gush. Fuck, yeah.

Shane gave a pained howl, his face going pale, body tensing then going limp from the sudden, overwhelming pain. Ryan barely noticed, his senses filled with the scent of the boy’s flesh and sweat, the taste of his perfect blood and feel of his hard body against his. Groaning lowly, he rocked his hips forward, rubbing his aching erection against the strong globes of the blond’s ass, humping him in rough, erratic thrusts while gripping Shane’s hip painfully tight. He came with a grunt, his fangs slicing deeper and flooding more blood, a growl ripping through him as he slammed the boy’s limp body forward and ground his orgasm against Shane’s tight cheeks.

His. Fuck, Shane Cooper was his.

Teddy awoke the next morning to Granny Emma banging pots downstairs and shouting his name. Sitting up ramrod straight as he remembered where he was and how important it was to not mess things up, he gave a weak gasp, his hole throbbing angrily. Oh, he was hard, his body aching for attention.

Gnawing on his lower lip, he forced himself to get up, looking around the cluttered room for something to put on. Granny Emma hadn’t thought to give him any pajamas and he owned no underwear so he had been forced to sleep in the dusty bed nude. It was okay, the upstairs hot, no fan or air-conditioning to cool the summer heat from him. He had managed to get one of the heavy windows open a few inches, a small breeze moving in to the otherwise stiffling room. Still, it was his room. It still needed cleaning and maybe a light that worked, but it was all his.

“I’ll be right down!” Teddy shouted, wincing from the noise of his voice echoing in the room. Hopefully the elderly woman wouldn’t think he was being rude. As he bent over and scrambled around for his shorts from yesterday, he groaned, gasping while he clutched the bed hard, his dark curls falling into his dazed blue eyes.

Oh, but he ached so much, his narrow hips rocking as he humped the side of the bed and carefully rubbed his dick against the firm surface. He had never felt like this before and he wondered blearily if going to the dentist the day before had done it to him. Maybe cleaning made you very desperate to be cleaned again. Teddy wasn’t sure but all he could think about was getting the big syringe into his tight hole, hoping to ease some of the ache burning within.

More pots and pans crashed from downstairs, Teddy jumping and quickly throwing his shirt on. It did nothing to cover his flushed, hard dick, the boy whimpering as he pulled his too tight shorts up. It wasn’t going down, his dick resolutely pointing straight ahead and oblivious to the fact he had to get to Granny Emma or risk being thrown out on the streets.

Taking tentative steps to the staircase, Teddy consoled himself to the fact that the woman had terrible eyesight. Maybe she wouldn’t notice? But he couldn’t even get the shorts to zip, his length too hard and sticking out of the gap. Oh, he was certainly going to get in trouble.

Cupping his hands over his erection, Teddy edged his way into the kitchen, frowning when he found the mess waiting for him. “Granny, let me do that,” he said quickly, grabbing the pan from her claw like hands as he looked around. Pots and pans were littered everywhere on the floor and counters, the lower cabinets all opened up as if the women had been trying to get a stray animal flushed out of the house.

“Teddy, thank goodness. I’m looking for my cake pan. One of the boys is having his birthday soon and I promised him a cake. He doesn’t have a mother to make one—Teddy.” Peering down her nose through her thick glasses, she gave the boy’s shorts a stern glare. “Teddy, that does not belong out in front of a lady. Not ever.”

Teddy quickly covered his erection, his cheeks flushing red. He had never been so embarrased, the heat of his face like a hot stove beneath his thick dark ringlets. “Sorry, Granny. I… I need some more clothes. I don’t know how to—It’s not usually like this,” he whispered, wishing his dick would go back to its normal size. Instead it gave a stuborn twitch, trying to push against his palm.

Holding her hand up, Granny Emma turned slowly away, hobbling around the pots and pans. “Teddy, I want you to get yourself cleaned up just the way Dr. Wilson showed you. The gardener is coming today and he’s going to need the help of a strong, big boy. Do you think you can do that?”

Teddy nodded quickly, grateful the old woman wasn’t yelling at him or trying to chase him with a big spoon to beat him. “Should I find the cake pan first?” He had already spotted it, the familiar shape already on the floor but undistinguishable to his Granny’s near sighted stare. He carefully fished it out and place it on the table, making sure to cover his front with his other hand the entire time.

“You can clean up the kitchen after Mr. Fowler is done with you, boy. It’s never good to keep a man waiting. Now hurry along.”

Teddy nodded quickly, his blue eyes wide as he took a step towards the hall. “Granny, I don’t mind the clothes you gave me. Just, the shorts won’t fit when I’m, well, like this.”

The old woman gave a shaky nod to her head, standing over a recipe book as she hummed. The kitchen was a mess and Teddy was seriously worried she might fall. He knew she had a bad leg, but he was now wondering if maybe Granny Emma was going to need to be watched, not just helped to make sure she didn’t fall.

“I think I have a solution for that, boy. Let me make a phone call—I won’t have my sweet grandson dressed like a pauper with just one set of clothes. Now hurry, Teddy. Mr. Fowler will be here any moment. Wash up and meet him out back in the yard.”

Jumping at the order in her stern tone, Teddy scrambled back the way he came, running up the stairs while trying to keep from gasping with each step. Clothes. He was actually going to get some clothes. And there was no one there to ruin them or hide them away like at Aunt Jenny’s place.

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

Why the fuck hadn’t Beau called him?

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

“Do you want me to call in a doctor?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Danny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad, teach. Very fucking bad.”

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

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

Teddy didn’t blame Aunt Jenny and Uncle Sal for dumping him; they already had three kids and they really didn’t have the money or the space to keep him around. Granny Emma wasn’t rich by any means but she did have a big house. Too big for the woman to take care of on her own now that she had hurt her leg and could use a consistent source of help. Teddy didn’t mind; he was happy to have a place to stay. His parents had died when he was a baby and he had been pushed through his relatives’ houses since then, no one wanting to deal with an extra mouth to feed for too long. No, he really couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting him around.

He was nervous about what sort of person Granny Emma was. Aunt Jenny had said she was nice but Teddy had already been through enough houses to know that nice usually meant he wouldn’t be hit too hard if he got out of line. Standing in front of the large doorway on the quiet street, he held onto the hope that as old as she was, Granny Emma wouldn’t have much of a hitting arm on her.

“Now remember, Teddy, you must help Granny with her walking; she can’t take stairs since her last fall. That means you’re going to have to keep the upstairs in order for her. Now she does have a boy come over to take care of the yard twice a month, and a few of the neighbors are kind enough to check up on her once in a while, but your main duties will be to take care of her. Don’t pester her for candy or things—I don’t want you being disrespectful.” Aunt Jenny gave Teddy a stern look which he responded to by nodding agreeably. If he knew anything, it was how to do as he was told.

“I’m sure you’ll be more trouble than good, but it can’t be helped. No one else has the time to take care of Granny. You’ll have to take care of her cats; I think she has four of them now. And down there…” she pointed down the street to a small rundown house once painted a pleasant yellow that was now faded pale. “Is where you’ll be going to school.”

Blinking, Teddy turned to look all the way down the street. “School?”

“Yes, well, it’s a little homeschool for the neighborhood kids until they’re old enough for college—Don’t be getting lofty ideas of that, though, boy. You haven’t had a day of learning and you’ll be the oldest one there. It’s only a handful of kids and they aren’t strict on papers. Thank goodness because I have no idea what happened to yours and I’m in no hurry to go searching for them. It’s about time you started getting some knowledge in your head. You be respectful there, too, because Granny can’t afford a real school for you and they won’t put up with mischief.”

“Yes, Aunt Jenny,” Teddy said automatically, eyes searching the little yellow house hungrily. A real school… He was going to go to a real school! He’d seen them on television before, big stone buildings filled with happy children learning about history, math, science, and all sorts of useful things, but Teddy never thought he’d ever get to go to one. He was small for his age, short and slender; the other kids wouldn’t know he was older than them. Even if Granny Emma was as bad as cousin Roland and beat him all the time, he’d still be happy as long as he got to go to a real school.

“Don’t dither, boy. Come on,” Aunt Jenny snapped, pushing the front door open and ushering the small boy in. Wide-eyed, Teddy stared in wonder at the inside of the house he would soon be living in.

It wasn’t rich or fancy and certainly not modern by any sense, but Teddy loved it instantly. For one, the house was big. Not too big where you felt like you could get lost, but big enough to run around in and maybe chase a dog if Granny allowed one. The soft green wallpaper was faded, a pretty design of flowers and abstract motifs still glittering on the walls in places where the sun didn’t reach or one of the many colorful paintings covered. The floors were hardwood and scuffed, large carpets spotting the ground with frayed images.

Teddy already knew his favorite rug, for right when stepping in the door a tiger was looking up at him nobly, small patches of where the fabric had pulled from the glue leaving it looking fluffy and worn. The warm golden gaze was welcoming and strong and it gave him a sense of strength.

“She’s likely in the kitchen.” Aunt Jenny stepped in, wiping her flats carelessly on the edge of the rug. Teddy had the impression she hadn’t even seen the picture on it. He followed quietly, looking around the passing rooms. The main staple seemed to be piles; piles of books, piles of newspaper, piles of dirty dishes. His fingers itched just looking at them all. The place was at least three stories tall—he imagined that Granny’s basement and attic were just filled with piles of things that need to be arranged, organized, and found a place for.

He paused at a desk where old photographs rested, some framed, newer Polaroid’s scattered on any free space. Green eyes jumped out at him, hidden behind the messy blond hair of a pouting boy that looked close to his own age. He was slender but taller than Teddy, limbs toned and tanned golden skin revealed beneath shorts and a t-shirt to combat the yearly summer weather common in the South. What made it interesting was the fact that the picture had been taken in the living room he had just passed and somewhat recently because the plants in the background were about the same height. Maybe he’d have a friend here. A very handsome one…

“Teddy!” Aunt Jenny called from down the hall. Jumping, he ran after, stuffing the photo into the back pocket of his jean cutoff shorts.

Aunt Jenny gave him a piercing look when he made it around the corner but didn’t say anything. He imagined she wasn’t in a hurry to blow her chance of dumping him off on someone else for a while. “Say hello to Granny Emma.” She stepped aside so he could see into the kitchen.

Granny Emma was not young at all. Wrinkles lined her face as well as every inch of skin visible beneath her plain, puritan style dress. Stern and thin, she stooped over like a stick had grown in a curve that had no chance of ever straightening out. One of her long spindly legs was wrapped in a cast, the type to support when walking that could be removed during the night to prevent sores. She watched unfocused through thick, oversized glasses, and as Teddy approached he could smell the sweet scent of brandy saturating her.

“Hello, Granny,” Teddy said quietly. He held his hand out to her cautiously, unsure what to make of the woman. He was five feet tall and done growing, yet she managed to be shorter than him. He wasn’t used to an adult he had to look down at.

“Look at those curls! In my day a girl would have sold her right arm for hair like yours,” Granny Emma exclaimed, dismissing Teddy’s hand to wrap frail, dry hands into his dark locks. The smell of age was new to Teddy too, and he scrunched his nose while he stood still to allow the woman to get a good look at him.

“Wasted on him, if you ask me,” Aunt Jenny sniffed, eying Teddy’s hair with resentment as her own mouse brown locks failed to hold a curl no matter how long she ironed it. She hated Teddy’s eyelashes too, so dark and thick, making the boy’s blue eyes shine.

“You’re a waif, though. Can you lift things, boy? I always need a good set of shoulders to get my water in.”

Teddy nodded resolutely. “I can lift ‘em.” He might be small but he was strong in a scrappy way, his slender arms used to manual labor.

Granny Emma gave him a measuring look that momentarily broke through what Teddy was to find was her normal myopic stare. “Alright, then. You seem respectful enough. Certainly hungry enough to get you listening to your elders,” she added with a glance at his long pale arms and matching frame hidden beneath ill-fitting clothes. “You know how to listen to your elders, right, boy? I don’t want to hear about any trouble from you in the neighborhood. You do as your told, and that’s that.”

“Yes, Granny.”

“I’ll have no problem sending you off to another relative, you know. Be respectful and do as you’re told no matter what.”

Teddy nodded his head a couple of times to emphasize that he had gotten the point. He would do as his elders told him. He had no intention of blowing his chance of living in the warm, eccentric house with the schoolhouse just down the street.

Galvin

He’s back. Coffee guy. Black hair, pale skin, gold eyes, red lips, really tight ass. Knocking on my office door like he doesn’t know who I am. Smiling at me like he doesn’t know what I am. Breathing easy like he doesn’t know he’s mine.

He’s been by six times this week. Coffee related. Stands outside my open office door, leaning on Margie’s desk while chatting up a storm. Tight jeans, hard thighs, very nice biceps under his polo. His name’s Jayden. Human resources sent me up a file on him before I requested it. Because they knew. One whiff of Jayden’s sweat, and I knew. Jayden, for whatever reason, has yet to figure things out. It’s been interesting.

“Hey, Mr. Starling, right? I’ve got five for you.”

He’s a terrible flirt. Margie’s been telling me. She also insists the kid is really just naïve as fuck. But he’s standing in my office doorway, breathing deep as he takes in every telltale scent my body gives off as he looks around. And he’s just smiling that lazy, confident smile he’s had since the first day I saw him. I have to say, I like it.

I don’t bother answering. I want to see what he’ll do. I’m a busy guy, and believe me, wasting my time not only wastes a ton of money, but jeopardizes the lives of every man, woman, and child in my very extensive pack. We’re shifters. Wolf. A few canine mutts, but not many. I have the most powerful clan on the East coast. I am the most powerful man on the East coast. And when I turn into a wolf, I am quite literally the top dog. Alpha. Packleader. Protector, warrior, and businessman all rolled into one.

“You must have an allnighter planned to need so much coffee. I think I’d be on a caffeine buzz by just two of these.” He steps in, drinks balanced in a cardboard holder. I watch him out of the corner of my eye while I finish looking over my financial report on my laptop. He hesitates a foot from my desk. I can feel him looking at me, taking in my broad shoulders, large hands, sharp, predatory face. I’m a silver wolf, and my hair matches. Combined with my ice blue eyes, and deep tan, I get a lot of stares. More so when my clothes are off. But he’s a slut, and he’s not subtle.

“The desk is fine,” I say when he continues to stand there. His hands have the slightest of tremors when he places the coffee down. Not naïve. Or at least, not anymore. I’ve got an Alpha’s voice. Low, seductive, and all power. I glance over my computer at him, and he’s stuck. Just like that. Gotta say, it’s good to be king. A couple of words, one hard stare, and a pretty thing like Jayden can’t move his legs.

“How many more people are waiting for drinks?” I ask, watching his pupils dilate from the sound of my voice. He’s hotter up close. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans in my multibillion-dollar setup. Jayden’s lower ranks, and he’s got nice thighs, so I’m going to let it slide.

“Um, twenty or so…” He trails off, exhaling loudly as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. He’s having a hard time. I have that effect on shifters. He’s close enough to smell my musk, and he’s pretty much jelly.

“I suggest you get going.” Or he’s going to stand here staring at me until he dies of starvation, or I leave.

He swallows, my eyes drawn to the way his throat convulses. Sweat is just starting to prickle on his brow, and he’s wafting a very enticing sex scent. “Right… I should, um, get back to work. Enjoy your coffee.”

I flash him a smirk, revealing a hint of fang. “I don’t drink coffee, Jayden.”

He swallows again, this time because he’s trying to figure out why I know his name. I’m an alpha. The Alpha. Only a few reasons I’d give a fuck to know my coffee guy’s name when I don’t drink coffee. His feet backpedal slowly, lovely gold eyes still caught in mine. Yeah, he’s something worth looking at. “Ah, well, you have enough to bathe in… so… yeah…”

Silently I watch him go. He practically collapses on Margie’s desk. Silly, naïve little wolf.

I IM my five guys. They’re in my office drinking the coffee by the time Jayden makes his way back. No one gets through the top floor without passing my office door.

“Trev.” I don’t say anything else. Trevor takes a final sip of his coffee, tosses the cup in the trash, and goes to greet my pretty new bitch.

Jayden tries to play it cool. He’s smooth, polite, and still has work to do. Trevor grins and grabs him firmly by the nape of the neck. Gold eyes half obscured by heavy lids, Jayden allows himself to be walked into my office. Good boy.

“Door?”

“Open.” It’s still work hours, and I might be needed.

Things have changed in my office since Jayden was last here. The most impressive would be the five muscular young men lounging on the leather couch that takes up two walls of the large space. I’m quick with introductions. Freddie heads Research and Development. Hans runs Accounting. Trevor’s my Vice, Sean my Junior Partner, and Liam’s my Marketing god. My guys call me Galvin, but Jayden will be referring to me only as Alpha. He will call them each Sir.

The guys give Jayden a polite hello while my coffee guy sways on his feet, his cheeks growing flushed from all the testosterone in the air. I hang with other alphas. They’re not rivals; they’re loyal. Useful for keeping my business running smoothly, and we all have similar interests. Jayden just nods, his lips parted as he begins to pant. Coffee guy has a very nice mouth.

I look at Trevor, who still has his hand on Jayden’s neck. “Strip him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Eyes widening, Jayden falls to his knees the instant he’s released. We’re off to a good start.

Sage ran faster, his blood roaring in his ears. Beneath the sound of his heart frantically beating, he could hear it still; claws clicking on cement. It was dark and he had waited too long to go home after leaving his friend Taylor’s. His blond friend had offered to walk with him, but that would have just left Taylor to walk home alone at an even later, more dangerous hour. Sage’s brother would never let someone like Taylor stay at their place overnight, not when the boy hung out with the werewolves.

There was a loud huff, then a growl. Green eyes widening, Sage caught sight of an off shoot, an alleyway connecting streets together. If he could get over to Washington St. where the bars and bright lights were, he might be okay. As if reading his thoughts, there was a low howl, chilling and hungry. It made his knees weak and Sage stumbled to a halt. Dimly he realized that no other voices had raised to join the cry. The shifter was alone, stalking him down without a pack.

Oh god, what was wrong with him? He felt so hot all of a sudden. Not just from the running, but from the sound of the wolf, blue eyes glowing out of the darkness as it panted. “L-Leave me alone,” Sage said weakly, stepping back away from the intense stare. “I’m not… I’m not a werewolf. Your kind are supposed to be able to smell that. I’m just a guy… so leave me alone.”

He had reached the alley, brick rubbing his shoulder coarsely as he turned and nearly barreled backward, just catching the corner to keep from falling. His shoulder ached from how his arm had wrenched. And something else… Something else ached inside him, his legs shaking and feeling heavy. The shifter kept approaching, head low, a dark shadow stalking forward.

Sage knew it was a shifter and not a real wolf. Real wolves didn’t get as big. Something about the magic that allowed shifters to transform into animals also made them look more beautiful than the real creatures out of nature. The black wolf was otherworldly in appearance, silky looking blue-black fur and ice blue eyes. It was looking at him almost as if trying to figure out what he was, nose scenting the air.

Biting his lip, Sage hesitantly held his hand out. Once the shifter smelled him, he would know he wasn’t a werewolf. The shifters and werewolves didn’t get along. Dogtowne was the border where both packs fringed. The name was ironic given that any real dog had been killed off by the cursed werewolves years ago. The werewolves liked to kill the shifters, and the shifters liked to kill them back. Hopefully hanging around with Taylor hadn’t gotten too much werewolf smell on him. Taylor wasn’t a werewolf but he wanted to be.

“Stop!” Sage gasped, the wolf loping up to him and reaching its terrible fangs right at his hand. But the boy had held his hand out, something the shifter recognized enough to approach.

It was so much bigger close up. Sage was small even though full grown, slender and wiry-limbed from never getting a full meal. With his messy chocolate hair and bright green eyes, he was constantly being mistaken for much younger. The wolf stretched out nose to tail tip would likely be as tall as him and much heavier and stronger. Swallowing nervously, Sage raised his hand again, watching his thin fingers shake. The wolf pressed its large maw to his hand, breathing deeply, a low whine falling from its mouth.

Sage had only ever seen one other shifter up close. He had been a wolf too, bright white fur, maybe the same size of this one or even larger. A long time ago when Sage had been just a child, his parents were killed by warring werewolf packs. He had run, a transformed werewolf chasing after him, humanoid and muscular with terrible claws and slavering jaws. Everyone knew werewolves ate children during the full moon and Sage had not wished to be a meal.

He hadn’t known if the white wolf had come to save him or to just kill a werewolf. The shifter had died, the injured werewolf lurching and staggering away while the wolf bled out. Sage had cried, watching the fluffy fur stained scarlet turn into a tall, powerful looking man, blood pouring from his throat. He had been beautiful, long white-blond hair and pale eyes. His skin had nearly been as white as the wolf’s fur.

He had tried to help the shifter, but Sage’s brother had found him. Corey had screamed at him for going near such a filthy, horrible monster and pulled him away. Corey didn’t care that the shifter had saved Sage. He hated all of them, shifters and werewolves.

Staring at the icy eyes of the dark creature still sniffing his hand and wrist, Sage wondered what the man looked like. They were all males, the shifter gene stuck on the Y-chromosome. Not all men were shifters, but all shifters were male. They were also usually very handsome, or so Sage had been told. The shifters didn’t come into the city as people. The werewolves could smell what they were and would hunt them down quick enough. Moving as a wolf was much faster.

“S-See? I told you I wasn’t a werewolf,” Sage stammered, foot slipping back to creep away. The wolf growled at him, the boy freezing and biting his lip. What if the rumors were true? What if the shifters were just as terrible as the werewolves and if they got hungry enough they might just eat a person?

Sweat trickled down his neck. The wolf didn’t look particularly skinny, more compact muscle and nicely kept fur. But maybe it was just well fed on stupid humans that didn’t know better than to wait until daylight to travel?

Sage cautiously peeked over his shoulder. There was a large dumpster blocking most of his view. Only as far as two towering apartment buildings away were city lights, neon and garish. If he ran for them, he might make it. The shifter wouldn’t risk being around a huge population. The werewolves roamed at night, partying with their human crew of gangsters. Surely the shifter would avoid a bar full of both.

Decided, heart slamming in his chest, Sage turned and ran. He made it about three feet before he tripped, blind to the black plastic bag of trash that had been right by his foot. He fell heavily, the concrete jarring his bones, everything spinning for frantic, dizzy minutes. “Shit—Oh fuck, get off me,” he whimpered, the wolf growling and biting the collar of his shirt, paws and a great weight pinning him hard to the ground by his shoulders.

Sage felt so hot and dizzy. There was something wrong with him, some sort of fever. There was a musky, strange smell around him that had nothing to do with the garbage only feet away. He thought maybe it was the wolf. The creature was tearing at his shirt with its vicious teeth, pulling a long slash down the fabric, a ripping noise loud in his ears.

It was going to eat him. Peel his clothes off and eat him like a bag of dog food. As if to validate the terrifying thought, the wolf began to lick over Sage’s exposed back, its slippery pink tongue lapping down, stealing the spots of blood its claws had caused while it continued to stand on top of him. Sage should have been terrified but there was something wrong with him at the moment. His body felt so hot, so achingly tight and hard. He woke up some mornings, heated dreams fading where he felt like this. He had never felt it while awake. He could be dreaming… that would make more sense.

“Oh god… please stop,” Sage groaned, teeth nipping at his shoulder and shooting fire through him. He shouldn’t like this. It was a shifter and a male. Sage wasn’t supposed to like guys… or wolves. “Oh… oh hell…” The tongue moved lower, down his back, licking the dip of his waist and leaving trails of wet on his skin. He wondered if it would go lower—If he should help the shifter get his jeans off so it would lick even lower.

Eyes squeezed shut, Sage silently cursed himself. He shouldn’t want that. What kind of freak wanted that? God, he was so hard, though.

While he fought with his body’s confusing desires, the shifter nipped at his waistband, sinking teeth in and pulling his jeans down. They were too tight, Sage gasping with each tug of fabric that pulled snug on his erection. He was going crazy. Shifters might eat a person, but they didn’t fuck them. At least, he didn’t think they did. His brother had suggested something disgusting along the lines of it, but Corey always said gross stuff about sex. The man thought everything about sex was filthy, including wanting it. Sage was, unfortunately, feeling very filthy at the moment.

Unable to hold back any longer, he reached down, fighting with the clasp of his jeans and unbuttoning them one handed. He unzipped slowly, the wolf stilling as he heard the metal teeth unfurl. Panting, Sage raised his hips when the shifter tugged again, the heavy fabric giving way, pulling down his narrow hips and then slender thighs with each wrench and snarl, leaving his exposed flesh stinging on the rough concrete. God, what was he doing?

A hard nose pressed against his ass, his briefs the only protection from the hot snuffles and sharp teeth. The shifter was smelling him, down his crack, pushing between his cheeks, breathing in the musk of his balls. Sage bit his lip hard, trying to keep from moaning with each touch. Maybe this was all it wanted. Just to smell him and learn whatever the hell it was canines learned from sniffing each other. That Sage was getting hard, his cock dripping precum was really just something fucked up with him.

It was apparently not enough, the wolf huffing and nipping at the thin material of his underwear, stretching it from the boy’s golden skin. It got his briefs halfway down his thighs, the material snagging on the front around Sage’s embarrassingly hard dick. The nose returned with prickling whiskers and damp heat, nuzzling and wedging between his pert cheeks with clear intent. Sage could not stop from crying out loudly, his hips jolting forward.

“Why are you…? Oh god… that’s bad… really, really bad,” Sage mumbled mindlessly, the slippery tongue delving, tasting his bare ass and sac, sliding around to lap at his hard cock. Then it wiggled between his cheeks and lighted over the pucker of his hole. “It’s dirty… so dirty,” he whispered, his face and neck bright red. But it felt so good.

Corey had promised to beat him if he ever masturbated like some degenerate, freak pervert. His older brother used to beat Sage whenever he caught him getting hard. Sometimes even doing stuff to hurt him that made him hard and then punishing him for it after. Only sick freaks liked that. Corey still did that sometimes, usually after getting drunk and extra mean. Sage still couldn’t stop from getting hard, just showing how fucked up he was.

The tongue kept moving, nose pushing relentlessly against his crack, spreading his cheeks wider as it slipped over his entrance again and again. The wolf nosed lower, pushing at Sage’s thighs, forcing him up onto his knees while the boy’s slender legs trembled. Then again, slipping deep between his cheeks, tasting him more from the new angle, dripping trails of saliva down his pale inner thighs.

“D-Don’t—You shouldn’t… oh fuck—Oh fuck, you’re gonna…” Sage sobbed weakly, realizing what was coming next. He was surrounded by silky fur, black and suffocating as it rubbed on his bare back, ass and thighs. The wolf settled heavily on his sloped torso, paws clutching his narrow, heaving chest. Sage could feel hot splatters of liquid, each hump of the wolf’s hard cock adding another stream of wet to his thighs and ass.