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Harry had showered and used multiple cleaning spells in the hopes of getting the smell of coyote off and out of him. Neville might have been fucked up, but Harry still didn’t want the boy dead. Maybe severely bruised after how he had bitten him and didn’t really seem to be sorry about it at all, but not dead.
Draco still hadn’t shown up, absent from the Great Hall during lunch and now dinner. Harry was getting a little worried. Not that he thought Draco was injured or anything, so much as, maybe the Slytherin was having second thoughts. Draco had really enjoyed himself when Sirius had filled him, but even so, he might be upset with Harry over it. Harry was having difficulty feeling regretful, except when he considered the possibility that Draco might not want to be his mate anymore.
As much as Harry really enjoyed sex, he still had this part of him that wanted more out of life. Not that his life was terrible since waking up as the mutt. He had been very unhappy before having a pack, feeling alone, angry and disconnected from the rest of the world. But sex, as distracting and enjoyable as it was, had not filled the void Harry had been feeling in his life. No, that was something only Draco had been able to do. There really was no replacing his pretty wolf in that regard and Harry was hoping he hadn’t ruined things between them.
He was having difficulty focusing too much on these unpleasant thoughts. For one, he was unimaginably horny. Beyond what he had been used to during the months of ache he had been learning to bear. It reminded him of when he had first woken up, nearly bending to creatures in the Forbidden Forest until Padfoot had come along and taken care of him.
The other reason Harry couldn’t concentrate was because Neville was staring at him.
The dodgy coyote had taken a seat across from Harry at the table directly to the left and was just blatantly staring. Not pretending to eat, not talking to anyone, hell—even a book on the table would have been something. No, Neville was staring, burning deep blue eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth while Harry tried to ignore him and eat. Ron, Seamus and Lavender could not ignore it and kept whispering while looking from Harry to Neville. It was not a good sign when Harry’s oblivious housemates started to notice him, especially when in the light of Neville’s hungry gaze. Harry did not need a bunch of his peers to figure out that he was always aching. They wouldn’t understand and would surely torment him the rest of his years at Hogwarts for it.
Decided, Harry got up to escape. His legs were weak from want of sex and he nearly tripped getting over the bench. He pursed his lips, face flushing when his housemates eyes turned his way. “Gotta pee…” he mumbled, shuffling backwards at their amused gazes.
“Harry, wait! I want to talk to you.” Neville jumped up, scrambling over the bench to follow after. Harry scowled, having nearly reached the double doors. Ron and Lavender had started laughing the instant Neville had spoken to him.
“Leave me alone, Neville.” He backed away, glaring at the boy. Neville reeked of sex, although at least now he had the decency to use a concealing charm for his erection. The blond was biting at his sleeve again, the adorable nervous tic that meant he was more shy than ravenous at the moment. Hopefully Harry could escape before that changed.
“I just… I just wanted to apologize,” Neville said carefully, eyes flicking around to the other students in the Great Hall, only a few looking back. “And, uh, thank you. I forgot to thank you. You really helped me… and I should have thanked you…”
Harry sighed, taking another step back. “It’s fine. I just, you know, have to leave…” He froze, a taller body suddenly knocking behind him as he stepped back again. His mind blared loud warnings, a familiar yet new scent filling his senses. Neville’s wide eyes confirmed Harry’s suspicions, the new animagus having caught the scent as well. Wolf. There was a wolf behind Harry and it was tall and very, very thermal as it breathed hot air on his neck.
“Potter, get the fuck out of the way.”
Harry tried very hard not to moan, breath coming out in fast pants. He needed to run away. Now. This was not his pack, this was not his wolf, and he needed to get the fuck away. First a coyote and now a wolf—Where the hell were they all coming from?
Seeing Harry’s distressed expression and frozen state, Neville cautiously reached the hand he wasn’t chewing the sleeve of his robe of, and grabbed for Harry’s shaking fingers. Blaise Zabini was a good head taller than Neville, with waist length black dreadlocks and skin the color of cool, dusty clay, making his violet eyes seem like amethyst jewels uncovered in the ground. Nothing Neville would ever tell the very athletic, very foul-tempered Slytherin currently glaring at him. “Excuse us, Z-Zabini. Harry was just a little dizzy. He, uh, didn’t like his food…”
“Whatever, just get the hell—Potter, why are you… What is that?” Blaise gave a sniff around Harry’s neck, pale eyes narrowing. He suddenly growled, heat rising over Harry’s skin in an intense wave of lust from the simple sound.
“Everyone just get the fuck away from me,” Harry whispered weakly, snatching his hand from Neville’s and sliding around Blaise’s suddenly motionless form. Harry could feel eyes from the students at the tables and he knew if he didn’t get away as soon as humanly possible, everyone was going to know what he was. And if not exactly that, they would at least figure out he was a really huge slut.
“I asked you a question!” Blaise snapped, grabbing Harry roughly by the back of his neck. Harry was unfortunately reminded of the coyote teeth that had been embedded in that exact spot only hours ago, his body shuddering hotly from the memory. He was blushing, he knew it. Blushing, hard, panting like an idiot and about to start making noises that would be extremely obvious about his need for sex.
“Not here,” Harry begged softly, a whine catching in his throat. “Please.. please… outside the doors…” As long as no one saw, he would still be okay. Just as long as no one knew.
Glancing up and noticing for the first time that they were indeed in the Great Hall with a very large audience, Blaise gripped Harry tighter by the neck and pushed him forward, walking him out the doors. Neville shook himself, running to catch up. The blond pulled Harry’s arms the instant they were out of sight of the Great Hall, trying to pry Harry from Blaise’s grip.
He faltered when Blaise turned his glare full blast to him again but Neville didn’t back down. “Leave him alone, Zabini. He’s not feeling well and you’re only making it worse.”
“He’s feeling fine, you little rabbit. He’s feeling more than fine.” Blaise shifted his stubborn grip to Harry’s shoulder, sniffing up the side of the brunette’s neck and growling lowly again. “What the… What the fuck are you?”
“Pack,” Harry bit out, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. God, where had all his fucking control gone? Months of training out the fucking window with one fucking growl. Fuck!
“Pack? What does that even mean?” Blaise huffed, pulling Harry back hard against his broad chest and burying his face into the boy’s mess of dark brown locks. “You don’t have a book bag… My god, you smell good… Like dripping honey… and chocolate… maybe a hint of mint…” He moved his head lower, nosing into Harry’s chest and then armpit. “And something else… something hot—Spicy… thick and dark… Musky… very musky… god…”
He pushed Harry up against the wall, moving down the boy’s smaller form, nose nuzzling into the back of his shirt. He pushed the billowing material away with a growl. Then he sniffed down where Harry’s back cinched to his waist, over his lower back, breathing deep, tongue flicking out.
“Stop,” Harry gasped, face falling against the wall as he groaned. They were still too close to the Great Hall. Anyone could walk out and find them, Blaise on his knees while smelling Harry, which was just going to lead to much worse very quick. Blaise ignored him, running his lips down Harry’s hip, breathing slowly, eyes closing as he savored Harry’s sex scent wafting from the band of his jeans.
“Honey… cardamom… saffron… Something… something so fucking tasty…” Blaise mumbled, tongue slipping over Harry’s flesh, catching on the edge of his jeans, teeth nipping to pull the material.
“Please leave him alone, Zabini,” Neville broke in, tentatively tugging on the boy’s heavy shoulder. “Harry can’t help how he smells. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t do that.”
Blaise shifted, eyes opening and peering up at Neville. “Go away, fluffy bunny. You’re too sweet looking to be around for what I’m going to do to Potter. You’ll make me feel bad.”
“Neville—Don’t you dare go!” Harry snapped, unable to lift his head at the moment, sweat dripping down his face.
“Shut up, Potter,” Blaise grumbled, whirling Harry and slamming him back against the wall by the hips. He pulled Harry’s waistband forward, shoving his face against the boy’s flesh and breathing his heady scent in fully. “My god… Merciful… Delicious… God… I am going to fuck you unconscious.”
“Oh hell,” Harry moaned, trying to push the boy’s head and tongue away from his naval and intended goal of his hard dick. Blaise’s hair was long in spongy dreads but the tall boy didn’t seem to notice any pain when they were pulled. “We’re right next to… the Great Hall…”
Neville, teeth caught on his knuckle as he watched Harry struggle, was having difficulty remembering he was supposed to be helping. Harry was arching back, face flushed, mouth gasping for air, glasses askew. Harry had always been rather special but now when Neville looked at him, he saw something extra. Harry liked to be fucked. A lot. Even by Neville—even by a coyote. Neville, who had been touched by his older cousin more times than he could count throughout his young life, had never really thought anyone would want him to fuck them. Instead they seemed to want to do the fucking to him, usually when he begged very insistently that they didn’t.
Harry was different. He liked when Neville touched him back. Although he said different after. But Neville knew what it was like to say one thing and mean another. Every time Neville said ‘no,’ his cousin had insisted it meant ‘yes,’ so that just had to be the way of things. And the harder Neville fought, the more his cousin hurt, which also made plenty of sense if you liked pain the way someone like Harry did. Harry struggling and hissing at Blaise was totally just asking for it extra bad and in front of everyone.
“Werewolf…”
Blaise stilled, teeth gritting as he glared up at Harry’s dazed face. “What?”
“My alpha… is a werewolf,” Harry hissed, forcing his eyes open to glare back. “Get the fuck off me.”
Blaise hesitated, trying to calculate around the heady scent of sex in the air. Was there a werewolf in the school? Could he honestly say he knew for certain when he hadn’t even known what Harry was? Draco had warned Blaise to stay away from his vicious little boyfriend or there would be pain, but hadn’t said why. Pack… he had said Potter was pack…
“He’s not lying,” Neville said softly. “It’s pretty obvious… once you actually think about it.”
“Lupin…” Blaise muttered as the pieces clicked together. He pushed away from Harry, stumbling to his feet. “Fucking werewolf freak.”
Harry leaned back heavily against the wall, relief and need shaking him. Thank god wolves hated werewolves. Too bad the ignorant coyote didn’t seem to care, but it was at least one less dick to deal with… God, he was fucking hard. Hard and aching. Fucking wolves and coyotes popping out of nowhere, just to torment him. If Harry didn’t have to fear that his pack might smell all these new scents on him, he would have been back in the shack getting filled already.
“Harry, are you…?” Neville swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed red. He was trying to be nice but it was hard with the way Harry looked and smelled. “Do you need help? To get to… um… bed?” He hadn’t really meant it the way it sounded. But then again, if Harry agreed…
Harry stared at the boy’s hand, once again touching his wrist and reeking of sex. The damn coyote—Who would have thought Neville was so messed up? “Let go. I know what you’re doing.”
Neville bit his lip, sliding closer, eyes flickering to Blaise who still hadn’t left. The tall boy was staring, violet eyes glaring at the two of them, tongue touching over his canines. He was very fierce looking but Neville thought he was also handsome. Maybe even worthy of making a deal with… “He’s strong, isn’t he, Harry? You said you like strong guys and Blaise is definitely strong.”
Harry jerked, his ache flaring as he realized what Neville was talking about. “Stop it, you bloody coyote… I’m not some fucking toy.”
Neville smiled, tangling his fingers with Harry’s. “You would make a nice toy. You’re so soft.” He pressed his face to Harry’s neck, noticing how the brunette seemed too weak to even pull away. Harry was breathing heavily, smelling so good… “I’d play with you all the time. Clean you, dress you, feed you… We could bathe together… sleep wrapped tight together…” He petted Harry’s hair, lashes lowered to gaze at the boy’s red pout. “I would do so many bad things to you, Harry. Naughty… painful… terrible things… And you would like them all.”
“Shit,” Blaise hissed, taking a step forward but holding himself back. Harry had started whimpering, leaning away from Neville but not actually fighting. He looked like he might even fall over and that was a very interesting idea. Potter on the ground, panting and sweating. Maybe even with Neville touching him… The sweet boy kissing Harry gently… blushing like he always did… Blaise really liked it when Neville blushed.
“You both… need to… back off…” Harry warned through gritted teeth. But it was all he could do. His knees had locked up, his head dizzy, body feeling sluggish and heavy. He wanted cock. Inside him. Very badly.
“Zabini?” Neville turned to the boy, cheek resting on Harry’s, beautiful blue eyes wide with a question. “How strong are you?”
Blaise took another step forward, towering over the little rabbit of a boy. Harry had groaned at the question, the heated noise sending red pulsing in Blaise’s head. “Strong.”
Neville smirked, pressing his wicked smile into Harry’s cheek. “Strong enough to carry him? Maybe… oh… to a quiet room? Just the three of us?”
Blaise’s breath caught in his throat. He had heard a rumor about Neville Longbottom, one he had been quick to dismiss because of the boy’s sweet face and constant blushes. One that had been far too delicious to ever be possible. Now Blaise wasn’t so certain. No one actually sweet and innocent could smile that crazily while suggesting secreting his own housemate away for a rough fuck in a dark room.
“I know a place.”
“Quieter… just a little… yeah, fuck yeah…”
“That’s not going to work. He can still make noise.”
“Fine… shit, spell thingy… silencing…” Blaise muttered while tearing Harry’s shirt off. He breathed up the boy’s bare chest, Harry’s moan muffled by the gag wrapped around his mouth.
“Should we tie him up?” Blaise asked Neville, eyes lighting over the blond who had just proficiently spelled the walls to keep sound from escaping the empty classroom.
Neville shrugged, slipping his wand away and leaning on a desk. “If you like that sort of thing. It’s not like he’s going to try and run for it.”
Blaise wet his lips, hands moving down Harry’s stomach, gripping the boy’s sides tight. “Why is that? He used to be so powerful.”
“When you want it as bad as he does, you probably can’t do much but bend over.” Neville watched Harry’s face as he said it, the boy’s green eyes dazed and unmasked without his glasses. That was how Harry had been for his coyote. He had practically begged to be fucked by the time he was overwhelmed enough. Neville wondered just how much it took to get the boy to that point.
“You should finish taking his clothes off,” Neville said quietly. “His scent gets so good like that.”
Blaise nodded, hands undoing the button to Harry’s jeans before quickly unzipping his fly. In the back of his mind he wondered what exactly Potter’s alpha would do in revenge. The mild mannered professor really didn’t intimidate Blaise, werewolf or not. It was Lupin’s own fault for not watching his little bitch. Potter was just begging to be fucked when he smelled like this and anyone with a nose could tell.
Neville walked around Harry, tearing a strip off the over sized shirt and using it to bind the boy’s hands together behind his back. Harry glared at him and Neville couldn’t help but smile. “Strong, right Harry? I want you to like this. There are always solutions to problems… just not obvious. Mmm… oh, that’s it…” Neville’s eyes fell shut, Harry’s scent rising up, dripping of lust, need, and heat.
“God, he fucking wants this bad,” Blaise said with a groan, Harry’s erection practically streaming precum. He finished stripping the boy, including pulling off Harry’s shoes and socks. He was slender, long limbs of pale olive skin flushed dark red in places, a few white thin lines of scars littering the sight, drawing Blaise’s eye.
“You should fuck him. Hard. I think he likes it hard.” Neville ghosted his fingers over Harry’s side. “Right, Harry?”
Harry choked on a moan. Hard was good. Hard was very good. But only with his pack. There was no way Remus would forgive this. Harry was supposed to be stronger, able to fight off the advances of two simple students. His body, for some reason, was not listening to him.
Blaise stilled his hands, eyes again pulled back to the blond. “Take off your clothes first.”
Neville blushed, ducking his head into Harry’s neck and pushing up against the shorter boy’s side. “I don’t… um…”
Standing from where he had been kneeling at Harry’s feet, Blaise inhaled sharply, watching Neville peek out at him from the brunette’s shoulder. The two were nearly the same height, Harry with a wilder look to his face than Neville’s shy expressions. Neville a bit paler to Harry’s slight tan, Harry dark featured while Neville a cool ashy blond. They looked very good together and Blaise wanted to see if Neville’s body compared to Harry’s slender, lightly toned form.
“Strip,” Blaise ordered hoarsely, “or you’re going to be the one tied up.”
Blue eyes widening, Neville nodded, catching his red lip between his teeth. As mean as Zabini sounded, Neville had a strong suspicion if the boy did tie him up it would be about the worst of it. He seemed almost nice, for all his snapping and big arms… But then, maybe Neville just wanted him to be nice. Blaise was one of the few Slytherins that didn’t pick on him.
Neville stepped away, placing his wand on a nearby desk. He could feel Blaise staring at him and he chanced a peek his way. Yup, staring… Neville had not realized Zabini had wanted to fuck him, the Slytherin usually so aloof and quiet. But the idea wasn’t too bad. The boy was attractive and hadn’t done anything mean to him yet. Not like that ugly fuck, Crabbe… or Snape…
He pushed his robe off from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a black puddle around his feet. Eyes intentionally averted from the boy that was still staring at him, Neville kicked his shoes off, then quickly tore through the buttons of his shirt. Thinking of Snape always pissed Neville off. The man was a dick. A giant, bat-shaped dick…
“Wait,” Blaise said with a growl, Neville jumping, eyes widening to find the boy right in front of him.
“W-What?” He asked, gasping when Blaise went so far as to actually touch him. He closed his eyes, cheeks gaining more color. He realized just what Blaise was running his fingertips over so gently on his side and he was mortified.
“You’re burned… Cigar, right?”
“One fell on me—”
“Fucking liar. It wouldn’t be a perfect circle if it fell. There wouldn’t be five perfect circles, like some messed up branding…” Blaise covered the circle of marks, his dark palm large enough to fit and block the burns from view.
Neville ducked his head, wishing the boy would just leave him alone. He had no interest in discussing his cousin with anyone… Well, besides Harry. Neville had a feeling Harry might understand. Might even want to help him feel better after his cousin’s visits.
“Hold on—Don’t…” Neville swallowed hard, Blaise suddenly moving his hands down to unclasp Neville’s pants. The boy was much taller and absolutely stronger than Neville and he didn’t want to get his ass kicked by arguing with him. Cold air hit his legs, Neville keeping his gaze straight ahead, peering at the dim bulletin board across the room. Blaise’s hands were on his waist, tugging at the band of his underwear.
“Come on, Longbottom. Don’t chicken out on me now. You’re the one that wanted to face down an angry werewolf for this.”
“For Harry… Not so that you’d…” Neville trailed off, Blaise suddenly stepping back, large hands no longer on his waist.
“I just want to see you with him. And then I’m going to fuck him,” Blaise said lowly, hungry gaze moving to Harry’s panting form. “He needs it… Can smell just how much he needs it… But I won’t touch you, Longbottom. Not if you don’t want me to.”
Neville wasn’t completely sure what he wanted when it came to this particular Slytherin, especially when he said bizarrely nice things like that. Ignoring the thought, he shimmied out of his underwear, leaving them to pile with the rest of his clothes. Zabini was staring at him again, likely surprised with how girly he looked. Mason was always saying Neville looked like a girl, waif like and delicate, creamy porcelain skin just perfect for hurting. Neville hated it.
Ignoring the burning stare, Neville focused on Harry instead. Harry’s scent made him so hot, so desperate to help the beautiful slut get off the only way the blond knew how. He’d rather think of Harry than his cousin any day.
Harry’s head was bent forward, ducked down while he whimpered in need, nude body glistening sweat. Neville slipped his finger around the fabric gagging Harry, stretching his red lips wide and likely raw at the corners of his mouth. Harry jerked at the touch, eyes flashing towards his, almost completely free of anger now. “You want it, right? You act like you don’t, but I know you do.” Neville licked around the gag, liking the feel of Harry’s firm, sweet flesh contrasting with the rough material now soaked with saliva.
Harry made a soft sound from the touch, Neville pressing closer, hands carefully touching the boy’s chest and lingering on his nipples. Harry was hard, dick bobbing ever so softly against Neville’s hip. He stepped forward the last distance, sighing from the feel of Harry’s cock nestled up against his own, his heated skin damp and slippery to the touch.
He hadn’t ever been allowed to touch a boy, Neville only always being touched. He had touched dicks, his cousin’s and sometimes Mason’s friends. Neville knew you had to be very careful, no teeth or fingernails on that particular part or they’d beat him. But no one had shown him how to touch any other part of a boy, besides what had been done to him. Hopefully Harry would like it.
Harry cried out, trying to push the gag free from his mouth with his tongue. Neville watched him, fingers twisting the boy’s nipple harder, pulling at the bud and turning it bright red. Neville bent his head and licked his tongue over the sore flesh, teeth nipping sharply, Harry yelping in reply. Neville blinked, Harry suddenly falling to the ground onto his knees, hands still tied behind his back while he swayed for balance.
Harry looked very pretty with the gag in his mouth but Neville thought maybe the boy was on his knees for another reason. Harry liked being touched, liked being fucked and might want to have Neville do things to him that were always done to the blond. The idea was wild to him and Neville roughly pulled at the knot tangled in Harry’s hair, loosening the gag enough to pull it down the boy’s face. Harry gasped, breathing deep once the material was removed, dripping clear fluid, his lips even a brighter red from the harsh fabric.
Neville didn’t give Harry much time to breathe, grabbing the brunette’s ears and holding him steady while he pressed his cock head to Harry’s parted lips. Harry opened to him with a groan, Neville’s eyes closing from the feel of heat and wet. It wasn’t so bad from this side of things… No choking… No wondering if someone was going to strangle you dead if you didn’t do it right…
“You need to let him breathe, bunny,” Blaise muttered, carefully prying one of Neville’s hands off of Harry’s face and pushing the brunette’s head back. Harry gasped for air, Neville opening his eyes in surprise. He had felt so good inside…
“Sorry.” Neville bit his lip, avoiding Blaise’s stare. The Slytherin was probably laughing at him for not knowing what he was doing. Neville fought back another blush, instead focusing on Harry’s face. He was dazed, cheeks flushed, hair even more of a mess. Neville ran his fingertips over Harry’s swollen lips, gasping when Harry began to lick them sensually.
Blaise suddenly grabbed Neville around the waist, the blond squeaking and going still. “Relax,” Blaise said in his ear, pressing up against the smaller boy’s back, holding his bare hips firmly. Neville wished he could step away, afraid of what the Slytherin wanted from him. Blaise was hard beneath his slacks, throbbing against Neville’s ass.
“Potter’s going to do all the work.” Blaise reached around and pulled Harry’s chin up with his fingers, Harry’s lips parting at the touch. “Stop trying to force him, bunny. He likes it. He wants it. Just let him do what he does.”
Beginning to understand what Blaise was doing, Neville blushed hotly. Bunny… he wasn’t a bunny. Not really. He didn’t resist when Blaise pressed his hips forward, helping to guide Neville’s dick to Harry’s mouth again. Neville felt very hot all of a sudden, Harry’s lips stretching wide around his cock and Blaise’s body, hard and strong, towering above and around him while the boy panted in his ear. Almost protective, if not for the searing flesh of his arousal that Zabini had managed to not grind against him, even now while watching Harry swallow Neville down.
“Oh… god…” Neville moaned, his eyelids drooping. Harry was looking at him, green eyes catching his while he licked the underside of his cock. Harry was good at this, sucking just right, tongue contouring and rubbing. Neville went to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, wanting the boy to take him deeper, but Blaise caught his hands before he could. The Slytherin threaded their fingers together, unbalancing Neville so that the shorter boy was leaning back against his chest.
“Let him do his thing. Just relax.” Neville closed his eyes, Blaise rumbling in a seductive manner.
“It feels so good,” Neville whispered, Blaise rocking them slowly back and forth, Harry’s hot mouth bobbing in rhythm over his cock.
“Yes, especially when you’re not in a hurry… You can let that feeling build in you… curling hot and tight…” Blaise’s lips brushed ever so softly against Neville’s ear. Neville gasped at the touch, eyes flying open. “Think of it as a slow race… where the winner comes last…”
Neville groaned, Blaise rubbing one achingly long thrust against his ass. Harry was whimpering, looking in absolute desperate need with his mouth full of Neville’s flushed dick and dripping hot fluids messily. “Wow,” Neville whispered weakly, Harry again meeting his gaze. Something about the intensity of that contact sent Neville over the edge, his body arching back, cock spurting his release into Harry’s eager mouth.
Neville shuddered, Harry swallowing his seed except for a thread dribbling down the corner of his mouth. God, Harry had sucked him off. Harry had let him fuck his mouth and then had swallowed like a damn good cocksucker. Neville had known Harry was special, just had never imagined how much.
“You should show him how much you liked that, bunny.” Blaise tightened his grip on Neville’s hands, brushing his lips lightly over the boy’s flushed cheek. “Thank him properly, for a job well done.”
Neville’s eyes drifted down, fixing on Harry’s cock, straining and swaying. He didn’t usually like to suck cock, mostly because his cousin was always choking him with his. But Harry was tied up and probably wouldn’t be able to do that to him. Harry was nice; he probably wouldn’t choke Neville even with his hands untied.
“Hold him up for me?” Neville asked, looking up at the boy that kept smelling his hair. Blaise grinned wickedly in reply. He released Neville’s hands, the smaller boy surprised by how cold he felt without Blaise’s touch. Then Blaise’s heat was gone completely, Neville feeling very naked as the black boy prowled around him, still fully dressed as he stooped to haul Harry up to his feet.
Harry was licking his lips and swaying, tongue tracing over the raw corners of his mouth where the gag had bit in too tight. Blaise wrapped his arms tight around Harry’s chest and waist, Harry groaning and pressing back eagerly against the boy. Neville watched, Harry spreading his legs and bending forward in Blaise’s hold, rubbing his ass and thighs against the taller boy and just begging to be fucked. Harry really did like strong guys… strong guys and dogs…
Staring at the two of them, Neville wondered what both boy’s looked like in their animagus forms. Harry had really liked it when his coyote had fucked him. Neville thought maybe he might like that too. He sank to his knees, hands resting on his own thighs, Harry’s hard dick right before his eyes with precum streaming. Neville lapped his tongue out slowly, tasting the fluid and contouring over the flushed head. He wiggled in Harry’s slit, Harry mumbling loudly while pushing his hips forward.
Usually Neville was being forced down by now, hair being pulled violently, breath stolen away. He wasn’t quite sure what to do when not being forced… Harry’s cock felt good against his tongue and good on his lips. Neville decided he’d just do things that felt good and hopefully Harry would like it as well.
Blaise tightened his hold on Harry, the boy squirming madly while Neville tormented him. The little rabbit was kissing and licking Harry’s dick like a tasty lollipop, letting the hard flesh rub against his face and slicking the blond with his own saliva. From this angle looking down, it was almost like Neville was sucking him off. Blaise growled, pulling Harry’s head back to the side so he could see better, rubbing his bulge against the boy’s tight cheeks.
Neville panted, face flushed. He was feeling hot again, actually enjoying himself. Harry kept making such needy noises and he smelled so good, musky and delicious, just begging for Neville to keep doing what he was doing. Harry liked it a lot, Neville could tell every time he peeked up, the boy’s dazed green eyes staring back, red lips dripping more wet than Neville was with Harry’s hard flesh against his lips. Neville was so sure that Harry was enjoying himself, he was even feeling brave enough to suck the boy down.
Stretching higher, Neville carefully rested his hands on Harry’s thighs, not used to being allowed to touch the person fucking his mouth. He widened, just taking the tip of Harry’s weeping dick into his mouth, feeling the hot flesh move slick against his swollen lips. Harry moaned loudly, Neville closing his eyes at the wonderful, desperate sound. Harry liked it. Liked him. He pulled his lips tighter, suckling gently, tongue flicking out to rub over his slit and steal every drop of precum he could find.
“Fuck… Neville… oh fuck…” Harry gasped, his body jolting with each wiggle of Neville’s tongue. Blaise placed a steadying hand on his waist, his large cock grinding against Harry’s ass in slow, rhythmic thrusts.
“You are one lucky bitch, Potter,” Blaise rasped out, his fingers splaying over Harry’s naval, twitching inches from Neville’s slowly bobbing face. “With your scent you can have pretty much anyone you want…”
Harry would have laughed, except Neville was pulling him in deeper, tongue caressing the underside of his cock in trembling swipes. Just because every fucking canine based cock in the vicinity wanted to put it in him didn’t mean Harry wanted it. Of course, he had yet to regret it at the time, but he was a terrible slut and couldn’t do much about it.
Blaise just couldn’t seem to stop himself, fingers itching, slipping into the damp strands of Neville’s hair. When the boy made no protest, Blaise began to comb his fingers deeper, raking against the boy’s sweating skull, tangling as the hair grew darker and more wet. “You’re doing really well, bunny. Potter likes it a lot…” He ran his hand down, tracing over Neville’s cheek, fingertips brushing ever so lightly against the boy’s red lips as they stretched around Harry’s dick. “Fuck, you’re pretty…” he whispered, watching the boy open wider and drink more of Harry down.
Blaise blearily tried to remember who was fucking Longbottom in that rumor he had heard. It wasn’t anyone at the school, he remembered that much… But it was someone. Someone much older… Someone that when he had heard, it had really pissed him off…
“Neville—Shit, I’m gonna… oh…” Harry moaned loudly, hips jerking forward in Blaise’s grasp. Blaise held tighter, not wanting Neville to choke. His violet eyes glared down when Neville made a coughing noise anyways, the boy releasing Harry’s spurting cock from his lips with a wet gasp, cum coating the blond’s face and dripping from his slack mouth and down his neck.
Growling heatedly, Blaise firmly sat Harry on the nearest desktop, fell to his knees and began licking the cum off of Neville’s flushed face. The boy wailed in surprise, his eyes firmly shut, hands up as if to defend himself. Blaise quickly grabbed his slender wrists, just wanting to taste him. That was all, just a taste of that perfect flesh, berry red lips, and Potter’s musky cum.
Neville tried to bite back his moans, Blaise’s tongue rough and demanding as it lapped firm swipes over his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, along his chin and down his throat. He was pretty sure the powerful boy was going to eat him alive, greedy licks peppered with small nips along the side of his neck. Then suddenly Blaise’s wild tongue was plunging into his mouth, lips pressing hungrily to his, pulling his moans free and swallowing them just as fast. It was raw and consuming, Blaise’s hand fastened to the back of his head, keeping him from escaping. But Neville didn’t want to escape. No one had ever kissed him like that and he liked it.
Blaise pulled back with a groan, tongue lapping out again, tracing over Neville’s swollen rosebud lips while the smaller boy panted. Neville glanced up through his thick eyelashes, Blaise staring down at his mouth. “Zabini… that was good… Really good…” he whispered, not really knowing why he was telling the boy.
Blaise growled lowly, large hand moving down to Neville’s neck and caressing firmly. “You ever want someone to do you good, bunny—Nice and slow and really good… You come to me, okay? I know I probably scare you, looking the way I do. But I would never hurt you. I’m just a bit rough around the edges, promise.”
Neville was starting to believe that. As abrupt and fierce looking as Zabini was, he was also controlled and hadn’t hurt him or Harry once. Neville still didn’t fully trust the boy—He was still more than willing to take advantage of Harry, after all, and might not have any qualms of doing the same to Neville. But he didn’t seem interested in hurting, and that was definitely new for Neville.
“You should, uh, do that… to Harry…” Neville whispered, watching Blaise’s tongue twitch as if it wanted to lick him again. Blaise cupped Neville’s cheek, tongue laving a final time over the boy’s lips.
“Don’t want to do that to Potter…” Blaise tried to read Neville’s expression but besides blushing he really couldn’t tell what the blond thought of him. Probably for the best. A sweet fluffy thing like Neville wouldn’t want to be caught up with someone like him. Blaise got angry easily. He liked to beat people up, liked to scare others just because he could. Neville didn’t like bullies, probably even the one bully that didn’t pick on him.
Blaise got up with a self-deprecating huff, eyes seeking out Harry who had fallen back on the desk, half hanging off. Blaise wanted to be surprised that the brunette was already hard again, but he wasn’t. His inner wolf kept reading information from Harry’s scent, things that Blaise didn’t fully comprehend but seemed to make sense. Potter was some sort of bitch and needed to be fucked. The boy would only suffer if he wasn’t and seeing Harry’s aching expression, he already was.
“Come on, Potter,” Blaise snapped and undid his belt, intentionally ignoring Neville when the boy stood, watching while biting his thumb.
Harry gave a groan, wiggling his hips down the desk until he was sliding down to the ground, knees resting on the floor. Face flushed, he took in Blaise’s tall form, resting and fixating on the large bulge in the black boy’s pants. “Tell me you’re actually going to fuck me with that, Zabini,” Harry said, his voice hoarse and full of need.
“It’s your fucking lucky day,” Blaise said flippantly. “Go spread over the teacher’s desk—Hold on.” He reached forward, grabbing Harry by his tied wrists and tearing the fabric away. There was no way Potter was going to try to get away. That the boy hadn’t been on his knees in the Great Hall was now a mystery to Blaise the more he understood Harry’s nature.
Harry stumbled to his feet, grasping onto the nearest desk, panting loudly. He made his way to the teacher’s desk, bracing himself on his arms and spreading his legs wide. He didn’t bother looking behind him. Zabini would be there soon enough. He would fuck him—properly, unlike that vicious coyote—and maybe even go another round, if the boy was up for it.
Blaise paused mid-step, eyes glancing to the side where Neville was grabbing his shirt. The boy was staring somewhere around his neck and Blaise looked down, Neville’s other hand quickly undoing his buttons.
“You’ll do him hard, right?” Neville asked, biting his lip and wrenching at Blaise’s shirt. It took everything in Blaise not to grab the pretty blond boy and grind into his undoubtedly tight hole.
“Bunny, you need to not be so close to me right now,” Blaise warned, eyes taking in the ever rising flush on the boy’s cheeks.
“I’m not a fucking rabbit, Zabini,” Neville hissed, giving the school shirt another hard tug until it made a ripping sound. Blaise started in surprise, Neville grinning viciously up at him and then pulling again, the shirt tearing off of Blaise’s back in two pieces. “Fuck him hard.”
“What are you, then?” Blaise asked, fingers itching to throw the boy on the floor and spread his creamy thighs wide.
“Just fuck him hard,” Neville repeated, growling lowly.
Breath coming in harsh pants, Blaise grabbed Neville’s shoulders. “Get out of the way or I’m going to be fucking you, bunny. Hard. Very fucking hard.” Neville just stared at him, head tilted back, eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed. And then the smile, wide, grinning deranged madness that had Blaise’s entire body tense with want.
“Show me how hard you are with Harry, then we’ll talk,” Neville said, hands reaching for Blaise’s pants. Blaise could only stare down at the boy while Neville rapidly undid his clasp and tore his fly down. Neville’s impossibly blue eyes widened, his grin falling while he parted his lips in awe. “Maybe not, Zabini… I don’t think I’d survive…” the blond whispered, pale hand disappearing beneath the band of Blaise’s underwear to run tripping fingers over his huge straining length. “Holy fuck… wow…”
The light touches and small noise falling from Neville’s sweet mouth were very much driving Blaise wild. Blaise wet his lips, eyes glancing only a few feet away where Harry was whimpering and humping against the desk. Fucking Potter would get Blaise in a world of hurt with a werewolf. Fucking Neville—Well, there would probably be a different, equally terrible hurt getting too close to the sweet, blushing thing… One that seemed far more dangerous and enticing all at the same time.
“Shit,” Harry swore, head jerking up to stare wide eyed at the door. “You fuckers better run. Like now.”
Bristling, Blaise turned as well, Neville cocking his head to the side to listen. They both flinched at the same time, a low gravelly howl rising up in the distance. Not a wolf howl that rang clear and melodic. No, very much made through the vocal cords of a man—a very furious werewolf trying to figure out where his smallest, weakest pup was at the moment.
Blaise had thought that Remus Lupin was not intimidating. That one primal, terrifying call changed his mind, his once heated senses freezing instantaneously. It was time to go. Now.
Remus barely noticed the scurrying of the many students evacuating the halls around him, his complete focus on his nose and the trickle of Harry’s wanting scent. The trail had started around the Great Hall, only to go lower, down into the dungeons. Remus had no idea what his pup would be doing in the bowels of the castle, especially with Malfoy currently in the shack. It made him angry to wonder, especially when the little slut had refused to answer his calls. Harry knew better—If he wasn’t answering, likely he couldn’t. It was an alarming thought, especially with Voldemort seeking the boy out.
Remus slammed through a dividing door into the Slytherin hallways, snarling at a sallow-faced portrait that was gaping at him. More scurrying, like little rats. Remus hated rats, ever since Peter. The scent was stronger here—Much stronger. Remus breathed deep, lust suddenly adding to his already roaring veins. Harry was close.
The door was locked and warded silent, Harry’s heady musk slipping through the gap near the floor. At least Remus knew why the boy hadn’t answered his calls now. Growling, he slammed his palms into the wood, the door splintering beneath each forceful blow. It only took two more hits and the latch gave way, Remus tearing the door off the hinges and tossing it aside. Harry was lying sideways on a desk, naked, hard, and moaning.
Remus took a quick assessment of the room, his growl returning as he picked up the distinct scent of human, wolf, coyote, and cum below the overwhelming perfume of Harry’s sex. No one was there now, no trace of the culprits except the locked door of a connecting classroom dripping in fear sweat. No sign of Voldemort, no tang of blood.
“Are you alright, pup?” Remus asked brusquely, Harry’s answer the defining factor for what Remus was going to do next.
Harry groaned, leg kicking into the desk he was on fitfully. “Need it, Remi… fucking need it so bad…”
Grumbling, Remus turned back to the door he had destroyed, snapping out his wand and repairing it back into place. He stepped towards Harry, looking for signs of bruises or worse. For the most part the boy seemed fine, just the corners of his mouth raw where undoubtedly the cloth necklace around his throat had previously gagged him. Harry’s scent was filling the room, so strong it was almost a tangible curtain of desperate, red hot need. The poor pup was in agony.
Remus bent one of Harry’s knees up, spreading it to the side to give him easy access to the boy’s puckered entrance. He pushed two fingers in, absolutely confounded to find Harry dry and not full to the brim with wolf, coyote, or anyone’s cum, for that matter. What kind of useless bitches had captured his pup, only to not fuck him senseless? Were they castrated, ball-less, domestic whelps that didn’t know their ass ends from their cocks?
“Oh god, Remi… yeah… Fucking do me… Do me hard…” Harry begged, his head slamming down on the desk, hips pushing forward to ride the fingers stretching him. “Need it so bad… so fucking horny… You fuck so good…”
“Don’t worry, Harry. I’m going to take good care of you,” Remus assured him, leaning down over the boy and licking his flushed face. There was the slightest tang of cum right around Harry’s lips that Remus was quick to lick away. He kept licking, covering Harry with his scent and saliva, stealing the smell away of the other bodies that had touched his pup. While he marked Harry, he continued to pump his fingers roughly, the boy whining and gasping with every thrust.
“Who was it?” Remus asked, his eyes burning anger as he licked down Harry’s stomach, nose brushing against the boy’s hard length and nuzzling.
“Idiots,” Harry panted out, head thrown back. “Fucking packless, kid idiots that don’t know shit… I just couldn’t… fuck… I was just so hard, Remi. The ache is so bad… and nothing is working…”
“I know… I should have looked for you sooner,” Remus muttered, grumbling when he realized an unfamiliar scent was all over Harry’s perfectly flushed cock. He quickly covered the hard organ with his saliva, Harry moaning and squirming, the boy’s hands tangling in Remus’s shaggy locks.
“Don’t tease,” Harry pleaded, locking a leg over the man’s wide shoulder. “Just put it in me already.”
Remus growled, fighting with the very strong desire to cover Harry with his scent, and the stronger desire to fuck the boy senseless. He compromised, shoving a third finger deep inside Harry’s clenching hole, while laving the base of the boy’s cock and washing over his balls with long swipes. Harry gave a strangled cry, his only warning before suddenly jerking and spurting cum all over his stomach, just missing Remus’s cheek. Remus ran his hand over the slick mess, wiping it over Harry’s flesh, painting the moaning boy’s taut torso with the creamy fluid.
Remus was under no illusion that Harry was done. Unless fucked for hours on end, Harry was rarely satisfied. One of the reasons Remus had willingly yielded to Draco Malfoy joining his small pack. Harry needed cock, a lot, and Remus and Sirius just weren’t enough. The white wolf had the time and endurance. And now, apparently, Harry had caught the attention of another young wolf and a coyote roaming around the castle. Assuredly a problem Remus would have to deal with personally. Preferably when he wasn’t so achingly hard from his new packmate joining.
Harry groaned when Remus pulled his fingers free from his hole, then growled in frustration when the man starting eating him out. “Fucking—Do me!”
Nothing was going the way Harry had fucking hoped. No mating with Draco, some bitch coyote tearing his shoulder so bad it had taken all the damn enjoyment out of an otherwise good fuck, and then Zabini—that fucking huge dicked, strong bodied, cock tease—had wasted so much time trying to get in Neville’s hole he had completely failed to give Harry a proper fuck. And now Remus was going to lick him. Like a fucking tongue was going to be enough when he was so—
“Damn it! Remi you will make me raw right fucking now, or, or… I don’t know what I’ll fucking do. But you’ll be fucking sorry!” Harry whined angrily, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
Remus lapped up Harry’s balls and already renewing cock, the need in his bitch’s voice too great to ignore. He froze once catching sight of Harry’s face, the boy looking so anguished, so despairing, Remus had to fight with the perverse desire to keep him like that. Harry in need was always a juicy sight. Harry with tears in his eyes because he just couldn’t get it thick enough and deep enough… Remus growled, pulling the boy down the desk so that he could see his expression better.
“I’m going to fuck you, pup, I promise,” Remus said lowly, fingers tugging at the cloth around Harry’s neck. It reminded him of a very naughty collar Sirius had once made for Harry. Remus pulled the cloth up over Harry’s chin, the boy rolling his eyes in exasperation even as he opened his mouth to let Remus gag him. Remus tightened the knot, making sure it wouldn’t move no matter how much Harry sobbed.
“How many prissy little bitches see you every day, and manage not to fuck you?” Remus asked, lapping Harry’s nipple and tugging at the bud with his teeth. Harry groaned, every needy noise now muffled. “I bet you could strip your pants off and spread your legs in the middle of class, and no one would have the balls, or the cock, to put it in you. You poor, slutty little pack bitch. What a terribly boring place to live.”
Harry had to agree, especially when Remus seemed more interested in tormenting than filling. Shit, what a fucking terrible day. He should have run off into the Forbidden Forest. Something would have fucked him out there. Probably would have been less vicious than the coyote too—Fucking Neville. Harry gave his best, pleading puppy dog look, adding a whimper for good measure. But his sadistic ass of an alpha only smirked at him, his thick fingers returning to push into Harry’s hole with only slightly satisfying thrusts.
“What if I dragged you out into the hall, mutt? Naked, dripping with your own cum, already stretched. Do you think your little bitch friends would help you? Think they even have the dicks for it?” Remus pressed his mouth to Harry’s cheek, tongue flicking out and trailing wet. “I think I want to see that. I think I want to see you on your hands and knees, begging those little dickless, weak children to fuck you all better.”
Harry whimpered, head falling back on the desk. He honestly didn’t know if Remus would do that to him. The man had his weird moods and darker appetites. He almost didn’t care at this point, just as long as someone fucked him already.
“Too bad you’re being hunted, pup,” Remus said tightly, regret deep in his voice. “Too fucking bad that deranged fuck wants to kill my sweet, slutty little pup. We could have so much fun.” He pushed his fingers deep into Harry’s clenching tightness, the boy moaning, slender legs flexing, and knees raising on the desk as he pushed his hips down. “That’s it, bitch… ride it… Let me see how bad you want it and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give it to you.
Harry had a feeling he had been gagged not to stop him from talking, but to keep him from biting. He was very close to biting Remus, so fucking desperate to be fucked. Instead he grabbed his gorgeous alpha by the back of his head, twisted as best he could, and slammed the man down.
Remus caught himself last second, nose just brushing against the desk. “Bad, Harry… Very, fucking, bad.” Growling low and long, he pulled away from his frustrated pup, eyes raking over the panting boy. “I’m going to forgive you, because I know you’re suffering. I know, because I’m making sure, you slutty thing. Now get on your fucking knees like a well behaved bitch. And believe me, pup, if you are not well behaved, you will not be filled.”
Harry did not trust the look in Remus’s eye. He had not choice though. Either Remus fucked him or Harry stayed horny. Hell, even if Remus did fuck him, Harry would still probably be horny. Groaning, Harry wriggled on the desk, his body so hot it didn’t want to move properly. He managed to turn, his knees sore against the hard wood.
“Down. Head on the desk,” Remus ordered, hand brushing over Harry’s spine as the boy did as he was told. “Now spread… wider… Wider, Harry…” he repeated, when the boy resisted. Finally Harry complied, his thighs shaking from the exertion of being spread so wide. His muscles would start to ache soon, and then burn. Maybe then it would be enough to fill the little brat.
Remus settled behind Harry’s spread cheeks, tongue pushing forward to taste the boy’s pink hole. Remus was not used to Harry being so clean, dry and free of cum. He didn’t like it much, no extra prize to drink down. But the boy smelled delicious, his musk strong, precum once again dripping from Harry’s sweet cock. And he was tight—Harry was always tight, no matter how many times he was fucked. And he was begging so prettily around his gag.
Remus groaned, feeling Harry’s thighs begin to quake as he pushed on the boy’s back. “Get tired, pup… Get weak and complacent…” He lapped between Harry’s cheeks, thrusting his tongue deep, tasting the clenching pucker with each slow movement. Harry began to gasp, muffled, aching cries, his legs slipping further apart from all the sweat on the boy’s flesh. Remus pulled back to watch him struggle, the brunette trying to pull his cramped legs back into position without bringing them so close that Remus would make him start all over.
Grinning, Remus placed his hands on the inside of Harry’s knees, keeping him from getting his legs any higher. Harry gave a pained groan, arms moving on the desk as if he were going to push himself forward just to take his weight off of his legs. Remus waited, but Harry eventually gained control of himself, whimpering as he returned his head to the desk.
“Good, pup. Much better.” Remus snagged both of the boy’s knees, pulling them back and over the desk, gently lowering Harry down until he was lying flush on the tabletop. Harry panted, flexing his feet and trying to get his legs to stop cramping. Not willing to wait, Remus tore his fly down and shoved into the boy’s tight hole with a fluid, rough push. Harry howled, clutching the desk, fingers turning white while Remus fucked him relentlessly.
Harry loved Remus’s cock. Even though it was too big and was always, always too rough. He fucking loved how wide it filled him, how deep it reached, and just how damn well Remus used it. Never hesitating, never shy or self conscious—Always remembering to stretch and lube him. Remus took what he wanted and always gave so much, and Harry never had to fear the powerful man would hurt him.
“You poor, poor little bitch,” Remus growled, tongue running over Harry’s cheek, teeth nipping at the strip of fabric gagging him. “How long have you gone without cock, pup? Did you even get any last night? Watching your little prissy wolf getting fucked, and never getting any for yourself… Oh, Harry, you missed so much today…”
Harry whined, trying to push up onto his arms for leverage. Remus held him down, keeping him pinned flat on the desk, the wood creaking with each forceful thrust.
“You were right, pup. Your boyfriend likes to ride. Siri and I had him spreading for hours. Your noble, pretty wolf begs for cock. Loudly. And you missed it.” Remus chuckled darkly, slamming into Harry again.
Harry groaned, chin thumping on the desk. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Neville Longbottom and his fucking coyote in that moment. Toes seeking purchase on the floor beneath him, Harry braced his legs, pushing back into each perfectly aimed thrust. Remus held his hips steady, slowing his rhythm so that when he sank in, Harry could clench, and caress, and hold his thick length like the boy loved. Each following thrust involved pulling from Harry’s grasping, greedy hold, only to slam in again, giving the boy more to pull in and tighten around.
“Fuck, pup… Fuck you get so tight… So perfectly tight and hot inside… I’m going to dirty you so bad… Walking around school horny and clean—Fucking disgraceful. My filthy pup needs to be kept nasty… dripping in seed… Fuck, that’s it… So tight…”
Harry moaned, his breath bouncing back at him from the gag. Remus was pushing in so hard, the man about to burst inside him. Harry ground down, clenching as hard as he could around the massive cock spreading his flesh so wide. God, he needed the wet. Fucking needed it…
Harry came with a muffled cry, channel clenching so tight that Remus snarled in his ear. While Harry’s cum streamed over the desk, Remus continued to hold himself deep in the boy’s tight hole, teeth grit, breath exploding in short, maddened puffs.
Harry tore the gag from his mouth then reached his hands behind him, trembling fingers over Remus’s strong hips. “Fuck me, Remi… God, fill me… Need you to fill me, please… Fucking do anything… anything, just fill me with your nasty cum…” He squeezed in rhythmic burst, hoping to break the man from his malicious self control enough to take him. “Fuck Remi… Claim me… stain me… So I know you’re my alpha… Fucking do it…”
“I will kill—fucking kill—anyone that tries to take you away, pup,” Remus promised, growling loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. Remus pumped in slow, rough jerks, Harry gasping from the feel of it. With a final, desk screeching thrust, he slammed into Harry’s aching passage, filling the boy with the much needed seed he was begging for.
Body shuddering, Harry moaned, spreading his legs wider, trying to get all of Remus’s cum as deep as possible. He froze, a noise drawing his attention across the room. “R-Remi…”
“I see it…” Remus whispered, reaching for his wand while the two of them froze and stared warily as the classroom door. Remus had spelled it locked. Had warded it. But the door was creaking a long whine, swinging inwards on its hinges as it opened. Remus quickly spelled the door shut.
“Get dressed,” Remus said abruptly, pulling from Harry’s ever clenching passage and tucking himself decent. He strode quickly across the room, tearing the door open and glaring down the hall. There was no one. No sound of footsteps scurrying away, no scent of flesh or emotion.
The hair was standing up on the back of Remus’s neck and he knew; sight, scent, sound, or not. Someone had been there. Someone powerful enough to get through the door. Someone intelligent enough to hide their scent and mask their escape. Someone suicidal enough to watch Remus fuck one of his young, and more famous of students, while Harry had said words like ‘alpha’ and ‘claim.’
This was not the two little bitches that hadn’t followed through with Harry. This was someone else. Someone dangerous. Someone that wanted Remus to know they had been watching.
Harry crept up behind Remus, fully dressed and only a little woozy on his feet. He didn’t say anything, just looked out into the hall with the man. “Do you have the map?” Remus asked, wondering if he could pinpoint who had just been there with the Marauder’s Map.
“Back in my room.” By the time they got it the spy would be long gone, hidden among the throngs of students.
Remus grunted, his mind racing. “Back to your dorm, Potter. I want you separated from the pack until I figure this out.”
Harry whined low in this throat, only mildly satisfied and knowing in about ten minutes he would begging for cock all over again. He wouldn’t dare argue with Remus over it, not with something as dangerous as this. He would go to his room, hide behind his bed curtains, and watch the map for suspicious people and flows of traffic. Hopefully not get the parchment too dirty from all the wanking he’d be doing at the same time.
“Y-You can put me down now,” Neville whispered. He was clinging to Blaise’s wide shoulders, hoping not to tip over the tall boy’s back as he confidently walked them through dark hallways and narrow passages deep in the dungeons of the castle. The black boy’s skin was entrancing, and Neville was trying not to stare—It was almost chocolate milk, but just a tad dustier. The boy didn’t smell dusty, more mossy and green, his strong musk very different from Harry’s almost maddening scent. Neville carefully pressed his face to Blaise’s long hair, sniffing discreetly. It was a good smell. Calming, like the forest.
Blaise quietly grunted, wrapping his arm tighter around Neville’s warm, slender waist. He had thrown the boy over his shoulder some time ago, afraid Neville would bumble instead of escape properly. Now he was having a difficult time finding an excuse to keep holding onto the sweet gasping bunny. Lupin hadn’t bothered to follow them, too busy seeing to his bitch. No one was around that they had to keep hiding from.
Huffing, Blaise stopped in the narrow, secret corridor they were in, and lifted the boy down. Neville swayed creamy and nude, clutching his ball of clothes and wand to his chest, and blushing. He glanced around Blaise’s large bicep, peering into the dim lighting. “Do you think he knows it was us?”
“No idea. Sure we’ll find out soon enough, though.” Blaise doubted Lupin would draw it out if he did know who had tried to have a tumble with his slut. Neville looked up when Blaise spoke, Blaise realizing just how close the other boy was, and just how little clothes Neville was wearing.
“Thanks for, um, getting us out of there,” Neville said shyly, looking very small and extra fluffy with his soft hair on end from being flipped nearly upside down.
“Yeah, well, thanks for spelling those locks up as quick as you did,” Blaise reminded. “He would have been on our ass in seconds if you hadn’t.”
Neville shrugged nonchalantly, but Blaise could see the pleased smile he was hiding. He really was just an adorable, fluffy thing. Blaise began to pat Neville’s hair down, relishing the squeak the boy made in reply.
Neville took a step back to keep Blaise from touching him. Biting his lip, he began to sort through his clothes, quickly handing the taller boy his shreds of shirt as he came across them. “S-Sorry I ripped it,” he mumbled, refusing to meet the boy’s piercing gaze. Blaise took the shirt, fingers catching Neville’s and pulling the blushing boy up against him.
“I really don’t mind, bunny… Really…” He traced his fingers over Neville’s face, the boy ducking his head and looking away.
“S-Stop… I don’t… I just wanted your help with Harry,” Neville whispered, tugging at the hand holding his wrist in place.
Blaise frowned, sighing deeply. “You like him.”
Neville nodded, peeking up and smiling secretively. “He’s great. B-Brave. Probably the most powerful student magically—Have you seen him fly? He’s really amazing. I never liked Quidditch until he joined the team.”
“You know he has a boyfriend, right? He’s been seeing someone starting right before winter break,” Blaise snapped, knowing he was being mean, and unable to care. Potter had fucking everything; fame, power—Hell, even a rich noble knight like Malfoy to protect the lucky prat. Why the fuck did he have to have Longbottom too?
Neville shrugged, a faint trace of anxiety crossing his doll like features before disappearing. “It won’t last. Harry and I are perfect for each other. We have a connection… Ever since first year, I’ve known Harry was the one. You wouldn’t understand…” Neville muttered, trying to duck away again, but Blaise wouldn’t let him.
Blaise resisted the urge to snarl. Fucking Harry Potter. It wasn’t even the boy, it was just some fucking dream of the boy Neville was chasing. Blaise still hated him. Potter didn’t even know how good he had it. He didn’t even look twice at Neville, except sometimes with pity.
“Bunny, did you like tonight?” Blaise asked instead, pulling the pile of clothes out of Neville’s hands and dropping them to the floor. He pulled the blond close, watching as his blush grew.
“L-Let me go, Zabini,” Neville whispered, pushing his palms unsuccessfully against the boy’s muscular chest.
“Just tell me you liked it.” Blaise ran his hands down Neville’s narrow back, sliding to his slim waist. He moved in slow, sensual strokes. Blaise knew Neville had liked it. The boy had been so sweet, dripping sweat and gasping eagerness. If he could just show Neville that it hadn’t just been because of Harry and his crazy sex scent, that Neville really liked it when Blaise touched him, maybe the boy would look at him the way he did Harry.
“I uh… I did like it,” Neville said haltingly, standing on tiptoes to keep from pressing up against Blaise. “But that was because… because Harry was there… and… and I like Harry…”
Blaise growled, wrapping Neville tight against his body and pushing him up against the wall. “Forget about Potter. That slut is getting fucked by his werewolf freak of an alpha. He probably gets fucked by a damn pack of people every day.” He licked up the boy’s neck, remembering how Neville had really seemed to like that.
Gasping, Neville closed his eyes. Zabini was very strong, muscles firm as his large arms held him tight. He wasn’t hurting, even though he was strong. But that wasn’t reason enough to let the boy touch him. Even if he had pretty eyes and a fierce, handsome face. “Please stop.”
Blaise growled again, louder and full of frustration. He continued to nip at the boy’s neck, sucking slowly, tongue lapping small swatches of wet. Neville tasted sweet and salty, his firm, creamy skin turning pink under his mouth. It was like licking salty caramel with a hint of vanilla, rich and heady, and perfectly sweet. Blaise moaned when he pulled the boy’s slender thigh up, the tasty blond hard and poking into his hip. “I know you like it, bunny… You can’t fake something like this.”
Neville whimpered, head falling back against the wall as he panted. So what if he was hard? It was easy to get him hard; it didn’t mean he wanted it. He never should have asked a Slytherin for help. It was his own damn fault. Even if Blaise had been indifferent towards him, he was still a bully, taking whatever the hell he pleased. Just like his horrible cousin.
Neville shivered, his body going limp. Thinking of Mason made him numb, inside and out. He could barely feel Blaise’s hands now, large palms sliding over his ass, slipping between his thighs, cupping his dick and balls. The sharp teeth nipping him were like faraway raindrops, dotting his skin but not fully wetting.
“Bunny…? Neville?” Blaise carefully turned the unnaturally still boy’s face towards him. Neville’s beautiful blue eyes were empty and far away. “Shit.” He pulled away with a snarl, hating himself even more when Neville just stood there, not blinking, just leaning on the wall waiting for whatever was going to come next.
“Get dressed, Longbottom. Get dressed and get the fuck out of here.” He pulled Neville’s shirt off the ground and pushed it in the boy’s grasp, the blond blinking and then startling, as if he hadn’t even been aware he was still there. Blaise growled, turning his back and stalking down the corridor to where it stopped suddenly in darkness. He grabbed the bottle of vodka he had left stashed there, taking a swig and trying to ignore the sounds of Neville putting his clothes on.
“How do I… Where are we?” Neville asked quietly, eyes cautiously tracing over Blaise’s back. The boy was stiff, puffed up and full of anger. Neville wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, but he didn’t want to stick around with an angry Zabini in a small narrow corridor he had never been in before.
Blaise turned sharply, slamming his hand down on a brick jutting out of the wall. A seamless door swung outward, opening up into one of the main Slytherin corridors. “Take two lefts, and then the third right,” Blaise snapped, pointing down the hall. “The moving staircase is just at the end of the sloping corridor after that.”
Neville nodded, meeting Blaise’s heated glare. “You’re… you’re angry at me.”
Blaise scowled, taking another long gulp of his drink. “Fuck off. Go run to Potter or something.”
Biting at his sleeve, Neville nodded, feet edging slowly towards the exit. That only seemed to piss Blaise off more, and the tall boy stepped back with another loud growl, leaning against the back of the corridor and giving Neville plenty of space to leave. Neville gave the angry boy a final, long side glance, watching as Zabini nearly drained the bottle of vodka in his tight grasp. He escaped out into the hall, the door sealing up behind him when Zabini crushed the same brick again.
Neville stared at the space for a quiet moment, the door completely invisible. He could smell it though, Blaise’s earthy scent and the caustic tang of alcohol. The boy had been furious. Neville bit harder on his sleeve, tripping slowly out of the dungeons.
Was Zabini going to bully him now, like he did the other kids that pissed him off? Neville had only seen Zabini hurt boys nearly the same size as him, usually much older, and just as strong and mean. Part of it had seemed to be that those boys thought the Slytherin was an easy target, having started school later than the rest of them, and stuck with kids a year younger in all his classes. Zabini was still younger than most of the upperclassmen assholes, but was totally stronger too. He had definitely proved it, even though the bullies kept looking to fight him.
Neville had messed up somewhere. He wasn’t sure how though. Zabini could have done whatever he wanted with him. That’s how Mason did it. His cousin didn’t even wait for him to go numb, just spelled him that way. Why hadn’t Zabini fucked him…? Was there something wrong with him? Neville sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. He didn’t understand sex. He knew that much. And he really didn’t understand people.
He wanted to see Harry. Maybe by the time he got back, Harry would be in the common room. If he came back at all that night. Harry spent a lot of nights out, likely with his stupid boyfriend. Neville didn’t know who Harry was dating, it being some big secret. Ron had told Seamus that he had thought it was a Ravenclaw girl—Neville had laughed quietly at that. Sometimes Ron was really oblivious.
Maybe Harry would even talk to Neville. They could talk about animagus forms and what it’s like to be a dog. Maybe even about sex. Harry could probably explain all these confusing things he kept messing up. Maybe even about how to get Zabini to not be so angry at him. Neville didn’t want the Slytherin angry at him. Not just because getting beat up by Blaise Zabini would probably be the most painful thing ever. Neville had endured a lot of pain and would continue to.
He just didn’t want Blaise angry at him.
Drunk, brooding, and very frustrated, Blaise spent most of his evening in the small hidden corridor still full of Neville’s sweet scent.
He should have stayed for the angry werewolf. Dealing with Lupin would have been much better than whatever fucked up nightmare of a shell Longbottom had become. Like some puppet… Like the boy had done it before, almost fallen asleep while someone pawed at him. But Blaise had been doing the pawing.
Blaise had been bad to the little bunny, and he was very fucking angry about it.
He needed to fix it somehow. Just… he didn’t know how. Neville was so quiet, always jumping and squeaking. Who the fuck even knew what the boy liked? Besides Potter. Blaise scowled. Fucking Potter. He was glad he hadn’t fucked the damn bitch. Potter would have liked it, and he didn’t want to do anything the goddamn lucky-ass Gryffindor liked.
Sitting in the corridor, knees bent, bare back leaning against the cool wall, Blaise ran his palm over the bulge in his pants, remembering Neville in the classroom. The bunny had been very sweet, all blushes and gasps. A strange mix of naïve and confident. He had sunk against Blaise, let him hold him while Potter had sucked the boy off. For some reason, Blaise was certain Neville had never been sucked off before… Even thought someone was fucking him…
Blaise unzipped, groaning softly as he wrapped his fingers around his hard dick. He should have just fucked Potter and been done with it. In the hallway by the Great Hall. Let the school see what a big slut the bitch was. Let the stupid bunny see just how terrible Blaise was, so he’d never have to worry about impressing the sweet boy. He was such an idiot.
Blaise had gotten to see Neville suck cock, and that had been fucking fine. Potter had clearly been experienced, but Neville… The bunny had been damn delicious. Chasing around Potter’s dick as if afraid to touch it with anything but his mouth. Sucking on him so guilelessly, like Neville didn’t even know how fucking hot he looked doing it.
Blaise groaned, hand moving faster over his cock. He was trying to hold back and build slow, but remembering Neville on his knees, face sweating and mouth so wide and full of cock, was undoing him. Then Potter had come all over the boy, dripping hot seed on his beautiful face. Blaise wanted to do that to Neville. He wanted to fuck his pretty rosebud lips and cover the boy with his cum. Blaise was much bigger than Potter. Neville wouldn’t even be able to swallow him all.
Eyes closing, Blaise pushed his hips up, trying to imagine Neville’s lips wrapped around his big cock. The boy would lick him, small, hesitant touches. He’d be shy. His eyes would be wide like when he had first seen Blaise’s dick, touching ever so lightly. God, the little bunny had touched him. No, Blaise was not regretting his night, even if it had not turned ideal.
Blaise looked down at his length, the darker flushed tip disappearing and reappearing between his fingers with each long stroke. He spread a bead of milky precum over his strained head with his thumb, trying to guess how far he would fit in Neville’s sweet mouth. He should have found out first hand. The fluffy bunny wouldn’t have fought him…
Blaise huffed, remembering how Neville had been, eyes so empty, body limp. His erection immediately flagged, and he pushed the thought away. It was not arousing, Neville like some drugged, half dead zombie instead of wide eyed, blushing and shyly smiling up at him. Blaise closed his eyes again, watching Neville try to take him into his tight, hot mouth, tongue contouring to his thick flesh and rubbing. Gasping… The boy would gasp… would choke slightly, so eager to pull him in, wanting to show just how good a job he could do…
Blaise came silently, hips jerking, cum streaming up his tense stomach in hot spurts. He relaxed back against he wall, fingers trailing through the slick white mess on his cocoa flesh. Would Neville swallow? Did he even know how…?
Fuck… fuck, he wanted that fluffy bunny. How the fuck could he fix this?
Blaise cleaned himself off with a quick spell, frowning from the brisk sensation. Neville wanted Harry. But Harry wasn’t fucking Neville. No… someone else was and he was the real competition.
Tapping his fingers on his abs, Blaise let his mind drift back to the conversation he’d heard, his first day back after winter break in the second floor bathroom. It had been five particularly idiotic upperclassmen and Crabbe, snickering in a corner, washing up after beating the shit out of some first year Hufflepuffs. Longbottom would suck cock if you made him. His boyfriend liked to watch and fuck the boy while he did. One of them had found out first hand Christmas eve, having been over at… Where was it…?
Blaise growled, sitting up as the name finally surfaced. The Pennyworth estate.
There were three Pennyworth brothers, parents long dead from the war. They varied greatly in age, the eldest nearly forty, while the other two were in there early twenties now. The youngest, Chad, needed a lot of support and was prone to extreme moods. He hadn’t always been that way, something happening to give him brain damage before fifteen. He was institutionalized, likely better for it given the other two brothers.
Theodore was some twisted shit, having never grown over five feet, and known for blackouts where he would beat the life out of small animals and cry about it after. Blaise had heard the guy cross-dressed, not necessarily by choice. Because Mason, the eldest, was fucked in the head. He had tried to sign up as a Death Eater, but the Dark Lord wouldn’t have him because the pathetic brute was almost a squib. It was said Mason took it out on his younger brothers, practicing magic on them to prove he had it in him. Rumor had it Mason had lost his shit one night and had nearly killed Chad, the boy never the same again.
The entire family was a disgrace, not talked about in proper society. Which only made it more pathetic that Longbottom’s Gran would send the kid over there for the holidays. They were cousins, and the old blue-hair probably thought she was doing them all a favor, getting Neville out of the stuffy manor and letting the Pennyworths have some human interaction. Blaise wasn’t so sure the brother’s should be around humans. Chad was the only decent one, and he was drooling away in the same facility as Neville’s parents, the group of them visiting together, if Blaise remembered correctly.
One of them was fucking the bunny, and Blaise had a disgusting suspicion it was Mason. He’d have to ask around to make sure… Discreetly. No one wanted to be connected with the Pennyworths. Too much crazy and not enough power. A waste of a perfectly good pureblood name.
It had been Tunsley… Tunsley had been fucked enough to actually admit to being at the Pennyworths’ Christmas Eve…
Blaise would not let the seventh year boy go unpunished for it.
Draco dragged himself back to the castle around midnight, Lupin showing up—without food—to warn they were all in potential danger and needed to scatter for a while. Draco had mixed feelings about it at the time, Black buried deep inside him and threatening to follow him to bed. It had sounded like a fine idea, especially because Draco would make his gruff cousin carry him. But Remus had put a stop to that, and all sex in general, when he explained what happened.
Remus and Harry were possibly outed, if not as a werewolf and undocumented animagus, definitely as a professor fucking a student. They all needed to be alert for the spy. Remus being removed from the school could leave Harry open to attack. Sirius had to go back to the snowy forest, but would stay close in case needed. For now the man insisted on prowling the grounds as Padfoot, scenting for anyone that might have followed Remus back to the shack.
Draco slept straight through Saturday breakfast and lunch, waking up hungry, sore, and decidedly sticky late afternoon. There was something off about him, but wasn’t quite sure what. He was horny, but that wasn’t new since hooking up with Harry a while back. It was something else. Something that on standing made him feel disoriented. Draco figured it out soon enough after his shower. When trying to pull his clothes on he found that his pants were too short and his shirt was pinching his biceps and chest. He had grown overnight, and thankfully not into a bitch.
Draco had worried a bit before falling asleep, wondering if he had been turned into another Harry. Not that Draco didn’t love Harry—he totally fucking did—but he sure didn’t want to be Harry. The boy was in a constant state of arousal, and was never fully satisfied unless full of cock. It was hardly an ideal existence. Draco knew how much his boyfriend suffered at times, and also how much Harry loved it.
He was upset he hadn’t gotten to see Harry at all yesterday. Hopefully the boy wasn’t moping, or worse, causing trouble. Harry was a fucking menace when upset; pranking, fighting, and all around surly. Draco planned to make it up to the mutt, even if he was a day late. Spelling his clothes to fit properly, Draco jogged up to the Great Hall to grab a quick, very late lunch.
He found Harry sitting on the steps going up to the Gryffindor tower, next to, but not talking to, a bunch of his chatting dormmates. Ron and Seamus gave Draco particularly angry glares, surprising since Draco had let up on the whole Slytherin vs Gryffindor thing once he had started seeing Harry. Harry didn’t care if he fought with the others, but Draco figured it would be best to not make life an absolute hell for Harry, seeing as the brunette had to coexist with the other boys for the next four years.
“Lost, Malfoy?” Ron jeered, standing along with Seamus and two Ravenclaw fourth years Draco hadn’t bothered to learn the names of.
“Yes, Weasel, I’m fucking lost,” Draco said with a bored air, pausing to lean on the banister. “That would be the only explanation for me to be looking at your damn spots right now.” Backing off didn’t mean Draco put up with Gryffindor shit.
Ron glared, stepping down the stairs and facing Draco. He hesitated, uncertainty crossing his features. Draco realized what the confusion was, Ron forced to look straight at him instead of down since the blond’s bizarre growth spurt of last night. Fucking brilliant.
“Let’s go, Malfoy,” Harry said, standing and hooking a finger into Draco’s belt loop. Draco glanced over, surprised Harry was actually addressing him. Usually the boy liked to pretend they were still enemies, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Apparently being in Harry’s pack came with other benefits, a very sweet one that made Weasley wail in disgust.
“What, you two are friends now!” Ron said angrily, turning on Harry. “You haven’t talked to me for weeks, and now you’re hanging out with bloody Slytherins? What the hell, Harry?”
Harry shrugged, completely uninterested. “Believe me, Ron, it’s not a competition.”
“Not one you’d fucking win, anyways,” Draco added smugly, surprised with just how good it felt to be able to walk by people with Harry at his side. Draco could definitely get used to this. He smirked when Ron flipped him off, turning away from the Gryffindor area of the castle and towards the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
“I didn’t realize you were hanging with them again,” Draco said, referring to Harry being with his housemates.
“Had to. Moony said I can’t be alone anymore until he figures out who was spying. Have to be with a group, or a packmate at all times—It’s going to get fucking annoying, really quick.”
Draco couldn’t help but agree, seeing as Remus and him were the only ones in the castle. Harry would have to be with the Gryffindors for hours on end. “Is that why I get to walk around with you now?” He asked, disappointed and completely annoyed that he cared.
Harry glanced over at him, grinning shyly and then quickly looking away. “No.”
Draco’s heart tripped, his blood feeling very hot in his veins all of a sudden. Smirking, he led them around a corner, then another, pushing Harry quickly into a room he had spelled open.
“Yeah? Then why, exactly, do I get the honor of walking side by side with the great Harry Potter?” Draco asked lowly, pinning Harry to the closed door, hands holding the boy’s wrists down.
Harry panted up at him, smiling wickedly while looking Draco over. He reeked of sex, and from what Draco had heard from Remus, had not had a very good Friday. “Because you’re going to be my mate, and I don’t want to have to fucking pretend to hate you.”
“That is a very good answer, mutt. Very fucking good…” Draco kissed the grinning boy, Harry snickering and nipping at his lip.
“Wolfie… you look different… Good, really good, but different…” Harry pulled his wrists from Draco’s grasp, hands moving over the taller boy’s arms, squeezing at his biceps. “Fuck… You bulked up overnight.”
Draco nodded, watching Harry’s face while the boy began pawing under his shirt. “Something to do with joining the pack. My magic feels stronger too… Your magic feels stronger…” He brushed fingers down Harry’s throat, the brunette pausing from where he had pulled at Draco’s silky, white-blond hair that now reached down to his nipples.
Harry looked down at himself, nose scrunching. “Don’t think I bulked much at all.”
“Let me be the judge, hmm?” Draco teased, eyes running over Harry’s oversized shirt. Frowning suddenly, he pulled away, stepping back into the room. “I got something for you. A gift.”
Harry blinked at him, gaze straying around the room for the first time. They had fucked there before, one of the Slytherin hidden lounges that littered the dungeons. “Is it sex? Please say it’s sex.”
Draco was pretty sure that went without saying. “Get over here, slut. I’m sick of looking at those horrible jeans.” He had ordered some things for Harry over winter break, somewhat shy to actually give the gifts to the boy. Harry was oddly proud of his rotten clothes, and had an even harder time receiving gifts than he did compliments and sweet words. Draco rolled his eyes when Harry frowned down at the pile of packages he had wrapped in brown paper.
“Draco, you didn’t have to…”
“Yes, I did,” Draco said, picking the nearest one up and tossing it to the boy. Harry caught it easily, frown only growing. “Open it. I’m not giving you an option, so you better fucking like them.”
Glaring as if the parcel was going to bite him, Harry cautiously tore the paper off, brows furrowing as… something was revealed. He shook the fabric out, the supposed black pants covered in silver chains and crossing straps. “What am I looking at here?”
“Pants. Fucking hot pants,” Draco said simply, tossing another package at the boy. Harry caught it one handed, staring at the strange pants before opening the next parcel. Draco reached over while Harry had his head bowed, snatching the boy’s glasses so he could finally do the spell he had learned. Harry ignored him, just bending closer to see what he was opening.
It was a shirt, thin stretchy material nearly see-through when worn over his arms, and less transparent on his torso. There were also half a dozen spiked belts and bracelets with the shirt, Harry wrapping a few around his wrist while he glanced over to see what Draco was doing.
“You’re trying to dress me,” Harry concluded, his voice void of any emotion. Draco glanced up, but continued his spell when he saw that Harry didn’t look angry. Harry went back to opening packages, less wary as he tore through the brown paper and began piling the clothes. There was a lot, more clothes than Harry had ever owned probably in his entire life combined—which wasn’t really saying much—and included briefs, socks, sneakers, and boots. It was all black, only hints of red or silver in the form of chains, zippers, clasps, and buttons. Harry tilted his head at the pile, not really sure what to make of any of it.
“Try it on,” Draco muttered, growling when the spell he was doing refused to stick.
Glancing uncertainly his way, Harry eventually shrugged, toeing out of his ratty sneakers and stripping off his jeans. He threw on the pair of pants nearest the top of the pile, fumbling to figure out how the flaps of materials and straps went. Harry had seen clothing like this before. It had been on a bunch of street punks, a group of angry assholes Harry had caught sight off damaging someone’s car in the middle of London. It had definitely caught his eye at the time, as had their violent behavior.
“So you… like this kind of clothing?” Harry asked as he zipped up, peering sideways at Draco, who was still muttering over his glasses. He had never seen the Slytherin wear anything like this. Harry would have remembered. It was a big deal to get the sexy prat in jeans half the time. Draco turned his back to him, trying to focus, so Harry tossed his oversized shirt to the floor, pulling out the nearest clean shirt from the pile. It was a soft black t-shirt with white skulls and blood red roses pictured. It was strange to wear clothing that fit, the shirt clinging to him in unfamiliar ways. Not bad though… It wasn’t bad. Just different. Harry grabbed the closest pair of sneakers, some brand logo he recognized as expensive, but hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. He clicked some more bracelets on, scratching the back of his head as Draco began to swear loudly.
“Fuck… Fine, whatever. Fucking stupid, bloody… Oh. It worked.” Draco turned, smiling brightly with Harry’s glasses in hand. Glasses he promptly dropped on seeing Harry. “Shit—Sorry.”
Eyebrows raised, Harry stooped and snagged his specs before his flustered boyfriend could step on them. His glasses didn’t feel any different. He placed them on his nose, raising his gaze to Draco who was staring, silver eyes piercing as they roved over him.
“One more thing,” Draco said lowly, stepping up to Harry and grabbing him by the shoulder. Harry’s glasses were again stolen away, Draco fumbling for a pencil in his pocket. “Stay still…” Harry gulped, motionless as Draco took the black pencil and ran eyeliner carefully around both his eyes. Done, he placed Harry’s glasses back on, hand grasping the boy’s messy locks and fluffing them up with intent.
“You seem to like this…” Harry commented, eyes following Draco as the blond began walking around him and running his hands over his new clothes.
“You don’t?” Draco asked, grabbing Harry by one of his pant straps and pulling him hard against his body. “You look like a fucking wild dog. Very much my mutt.”
Harry grinned, Draco running his tongue up his neck. “I’ll take your word for it. What did you do to my glasses?”
“Spelled them so they go invisible when you’re wearing them,” Draco said, nipping down Harry’s throat. He wrapped what Harry had first assumed was a long bracelet around his neck, clasping a spiky choker on him.
“Aren’t spikes counter productive to getting close to me?” Harry asked, his grin growing when Draco growled and licked over the metal and leather, then nipped Harry’s throat again. “Oh, I think you really like this, wolfie. You got me a whole bunch of clothes.”
“I want you to dress like this all the time. Give me your hands.” Harry did, Draco running his wand over each finger and painting Harry’s nails with black enamel. “I knew you’d look good. It just fits you, mutt.”
“If you say so. I don’t mind the clothes—I mean, I’m sure they’re not quite normal, but I was getting sick of the holes and crap.” Harry glanced over at his tattered old sneakers, trying to remember how long he’d actually owned the damn things. “The makeup though… might not wear that much…”
Draco growled again, snapping his wand behind Harry and quickly muttering a spell. He then turned the brunette, pushing him towards the summoned mirror. Harry blinked, grinning awkwardly at his reflection.
“You look hot.”
“Err… it’s different…” Harry mumbled, blushing slightly.
“It’s sexy. Over the desk sexy. On your knees sexy. Up against the wall sexy,” Draco whispered sensually into his ear, pulling on Harry’s collar and forcing his neck up. “You look wild.”
“Pretty,” Harry muttered. “I look pretty.” Without his glasses to hide them away, Harry could see exactly how the eyeliner made his green eyes pop even more beneath his dark brows, his lips somehow redder in contrast. The clothes fit him very well, Harry actually having a shape to his torso, revealing he had bulked a little bit after all from Draco joining the pack. His pants clung to his hips and ran straight down his legs to the bottom, looking actually really cool with all the straps. The black made his skin look paler, his dark features contrasting and pulling attention to his face.
Harry wasn’t quite girly, but it was definitely on the stop and stare at the pretty boy level, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He had spent a lot of time trying not to be noticed. That would not be an option in these clothes.
“I like it,” Draco insisted, running his hand up, fingers tracing over Harry’s lips. “I like you sexy, and I want people to see you sexy. I want people to know that this fucking crazy, sexy mutt is mine.”
Harry glanced over at Draco in the mirror, watching his beautiful boyfriend try to lick his lips from an impossible angle. “Are you… embarrassed by me?”
“No,” Draco snapped, glaring back.
Harry shrugged. “It’s okay if you are. I mean, I’m kinda fucked up and all.”
“I am not embarrassed. Wanting to see you look as hot as possible does not mean I’m embarrassed by you,” Draco said gruffly, still refusing to let the brunette go. “I’m happy to hang out with you looking like a damn vagabond if you insist. I just prefer this instead.”
“Well… just… looking like this is kinda embarrassing for me,” Harry mumbled. “You know the guys are going to give me so much shit for the, um…” He pointed to his eyes and the kohl lining there.
“Who the fuck cares what they think?” Draco said with a huff, whirling Harry in his arms and holding the boy tight by his hips. “You look fucking amazing. And if anyone says shit, I’ll beat the fuck out of them.”
“You’re not going to—”
“Fine, you beat the fuck out of them,” Draco amended. “It’ll give you something to do. You know, besides running from me.”
Harry raised his brows, Draco looking very intense all of a sudden. “Why would I run from you?”
“Because every time I see you like this, I’m going to have to fuck you,” Draco growled, stepping Harry backwards until his legs hit the back of a sofa.
“Oh… okay,” Harry said, unable to look away from Draco’s searing silver gaze.
“And if you’re dressed like this all the time… well, that could get a bit messy,” Draco continued, pushing Harry’s t-shirt up. “Let’s see… Breakfast… I’ll probably have you right on the Gryffindor table. I don’t think you’ll be able to run far with so many people in the way.”
Harry gaped, eyelids half closing. “The t-table?”
“Yes… Three times a day on that table, I think. Fuck, maybe the bench. You could sit in my lap and ride me.” Draco smirked at Harry’s appreciative groan, hands finding and tweaking the boy’s nipples. “Then there’s class… We don’t have too many classes together, so that will make things a bit easier on you.”
Harry snickered, then gasped, Draco biting his neck hard. “Fuck… You don’t… Shit, wolfie, you’re kind of…”
Draco raised his head, cupping Harry’s cheek and gazing into his eyes. “What?”
Harry had wanted to say Draco was different. The boy was rarely rough, even though Harry had hoped he’d be. Draco was usually as vanilla as it came, besides his very delicious habit of saying nasty, nasty things to Harry to get him hot—Or annoy him. It was hard to tell because everything Draco said, Harry usually found hot. But this look was very much Draco, loving and attentive.
Draco was also a full half a head taller than Harry now, and had more strength in his already powerful hold. Harry grinned up at the very sexy boy, liking all the new little changes that were happening to his boyfriend. Remus had said Draco begged for cock with him and Sirius. Harry would gladly wear some fucking makeup if Draco stopped being so vanilla with him.
“You’re kind of nasty, wolfie.”
Draco inhaled sharply, pushing Harry down to his knees. “I think I have to be.”
“Yeah?” Harry reached his hands up, unzipping the boy’s jeans and nuzzling his face into Draco’s long erection.
“Yes,” Draco growled, tangling his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulling hard. Harry groaned, looking up, lips parted wide as he waited for Draco to fuck his mouth. “I’m going to make you mine, and I just can’t be fucking nice doing something like that. You don’t like nice much.”
“Sometimes I—“ Harry did not get to finish his thought, Draco pushing fingers into Harry’s mouth, touching the boy’s tongue, running saliva over his gasping lips. He hissed at Harry’s needy expression, quickly pulling the boy down, his hot mouth engulfing Draco’s cock, lips latching tight and sucking. Draco pulled Harry back enough so he could see the boy’s face clearly as he thrust shallowly into his mouth. The eyeliner was definitely sexy, along with the glasses-free view. It had taken him weeks to find that damn spell, and it had been worth it.
“Maybe I’ll stick to fucking your mouth in class,” Draco murmured, free hand reaching under Harry’s chin and fingering the collar there. He pulled it up, fingers moving to the back while Harry looked at him in wide eyed surprise. Harry opened his mouth wider, moaning around Draco’s thick cock, hot fluid running down his chin. Draco tugged at the collar, careful pressure on Harry’s throat, stealing small breaths of his air each time.
Harry had to fight the urge to pull Draco down and climb the boy until the blond mounted him already. His noble wolfie was not being prissy today, and Harry found it absolutely maddening. As if reading his thoughts, Draco tugged on Harry’s collar again, holding him by it longer this time, the pressure on his throat growing while Draco rubbed the head of his cock over Harry’s wet lips.
“F-Fuck,” Harry croaked, so hard he was certain he was going to come just from this. Draco definitely was. Harry could feel the boy’s cock swelling, bright red tip dripping drop after drop of precum on his lips and tongue. Harry opened his mouth wider, urging Draco to push inside. Draco didn’t, tightening his grip on Harry’s choker again, pushing against the boy’s tongue and tracing his swollen lips while Harry closed his eyes, fire moving through him from need and lack of oxygen. Harry gaped, jerking fitfully, his orgasm hitting him hard, his entire body feeling fuzzy and on fire at the same time while Draco’s cum rained down on his face.
“Holy shit, Draco… Holy fucking hell…” Harry moaned, swaying, feeling dazed and very much amazed at his boyfriend. Draco sank to his knees, thoroughly licking Harry’s face and kissing the boy’s lips.
“Did you like that?” Draco asked smugly, Harry barking in laughter.
“Just christened these nice new pants with how much I liked that,” Harry rasped, his voice rough and weak. He began pushing at Draco’s clothes, tearing at his shirt with quick, unsteady motions. Draco lifted his arms so he could be stripped, eyes lingering on Harry again in his black outfit and many bondage straps.
“I want to fuck you in these clothes,” Draco said decidedly, grabbing Harry’s wrists with one hand and pulling the boy close. Green eyes again staring at him in surprise, Draco reached for Harry’s zipper, unfurling it slowly and slipping his fingers inside. Harry groaned, hips rocking up, erection quickly renewing with each touch of Draco’s hand.
Harry leaned forward, tongue reaching out, licking over Draco’s lips, tasting, trembling. Draco growled, a very aggressive sound for Harry’s normally controlled boyfriend. Harry suddenly found himself flat on his back, belt being ripped open, pants and underwear pushed down just below his ass. Draco raised his hand up to Harry’s face, the brunette gasping and then eagerly licking his tongue out for his seed on Draco’s fingers. Draco pushed his dripping fingers into Harry’s mouth and ran them over his tongue. Harry wrapped his lips tight, so that when Draco pulled out, he got nearly everything he could drink.
“You still want this, right mutt?” Draco asked, pausing over Harry’s prone form.
Harry blinked up in confusion, then smiled brightly, hooking a leg around the boy’s waist. “I want to be yours, Draco. I want to be your mate.”
Draco nodded, looking very serious. “I… Well, I really fucking hope so, because I just went through a fucking hell of a night to join your pack. Not to mention the day that followed. And if you don’t want to be my mate after all that, I just don’t fucking know what the hell I’m going to do.”
Harry pulled the blond down on top of him, wrapping Draco tight, and ignoring the little hisses the boy made from his many spikes. “You could have come back with a tail and wolf ears, and I still would have wanted you, wolfie. You were so fucking beautiful—God, it was so hot to see you like that, under Sirius and wanting it so much. I was… I was afraid you’d be angry at me for drugging you…” Harry bit his lip, Draco meeting his gaze sharply. “Please tell me you’re not angry.”
Draco nipped Harry’s jaw, teeth holding him firmly in place for long moments. “I knew you were a demented, crazed mutt going into this, Potter. If you didn’t drug me once in a while, I’d worry there was something wrong with you.”
Harry grinned wickedly, kissing the boy hard with swollen lips. “I’ll remind you later that you said that,” he teased, trying to roll them. Draco wouldn’t let him, pinning Harry firmly down, glaring warningly. Harry couldn’t help but stare at Draco’s more defined arms, running his hands up the muscles. Draco wasn’t close to Remus’s size, but Remus was a full grown werewolf. Draco could likely take Zabini down, even though half a head shorter than the boy and still slimmer and more compact. Draco had a new, vicious glint in his eye that made Harry think that if pushed, Draco would be just like Remus and Sirius. Brutal. Unforgiving. Unstoppable.
“You’re moaning up a storm, slut,” Draco commented, watching Harry pant in earnest while rocking his hips.
“I like your… ah fuck… changes from joining the pack…” Harry answered honestly. He had been willing to accept Draco as a little prissy at times. This was very much ideal, and Harry was not going to complain.
“Yeah, well, I’m liking them too,” Draco said, suddenly pushing himself to his feet and standing. Harry stared up at him heatedly, green eyes bright with need, hand slowly moving down to his new pants and hard prick. Draco had planned on pulling Harry up and getting the boy on the couch, or maybe against the wall, but this was definitely good too, watching the brunette slowly touch himself in anticipation while wearing his very sexy new clothes.
Harry kept his eyes locked on Draco’s as he began pumping his cock in long strokes. Smiling lazily up at the pale boy, he licked his lips as he jerked his hips up with every squeeze. “Take your pants off. I want to see the rest of you,” Harry demanded, eyes moving over Draco hungrily and resting on his crotch.
Kicking his shoes off, Draco dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, toeing them across the floor. Harry was suddenly on his knees again, grabbing Draco’s underwear and tearing them down his thighs. Draco gasped, Harry turning him and pushing him up against the back of the couch.
“Did you like it, wolfie?” Harry asked breathlessly, mouth wide as he fanned heat over Draco’s smooth, pale ass cheek. Draco stilled, eyes closing when he felt Harry kiss to the center between his firm cheeks, wet lips sucking gently on his flesh. “You looked so good,” Harry moaned, running his tongue out, feeling Draco’s hips jolt forward as he tickled down his crack. “Fuck, I can still smell them on you…”
Draco groaned, Harry surging forward, tongue probing into his tight entrance and circling the muscles. Harry’s touch was very different from the damn powerful, relentless men Draco had been with yesterday, his love sweet and so overcome with need he could barely coordinate his movements from all his trembling. It made Draco feel weak in a different way, knowing Harry needed him this much, had wanted to touch him like this and Draco had been so foolishly afraid. He panted while Harry used his thumbs to spread his cheeks wider, delving deeper inside him, each touch of hot, wet tongue making Draco dizzy and wild.
Harry pulled away, gasping, shaking as he tried to get to his feet while climbing up Draco’s sturdy form. Draco quickly turned, pulling Harry into his arms, crushing the boy’s lips with his own. Harry’s trousers were sliding down his hips, keeping his legs from spreading wide enough. Draco tore them down harshly, wrenching Harry’s knee up, spelling the boy’s entrance slick and pressing his cock against his hole. Harry gasped, mouth wide in a silent cry as Draco rocked against his unstretched entrance with hard, taunting thrusts.
“Oh god… Draco… fuck…” Harry held onto Draco’s biceps as best he could, his body threatening to go limp from the overwhelming sensation of Draco forcing his entrance to stretch around the head of his cock.
“How do you want it, mutt?” Draco asked, burying his face in Harry’s neck, mouth biting quick, harsh nips of pain and pleasure. “It’s your mating—How do you want me to fuck you?”
Harry shuddered, eyes rolling back when Draco gave another, harder push, his body opening unbearably slow to the tip of the boy’s dick. Draco was bigger, Harry able to feel it very much so like this. Draco’s arms were so strong, holding his hips in place, keeping him standing while pressing unrelentingly forward. Harry gave a sudden cry, sobbing into Draco’s chest when the pale boy surged forward, his hole opening and holding the first inch of Draco inside him.
Eyes squeezed shut, Harry could only moan uncomprehensibly, Draco rocking them gently while still carefully pressing his hips forward in slow, eager pushes. Draco pressed Harry’s hair from his forehead, sweat dripping down the brunette’s face as he gasped harshly. “Do you like that, slut? Should I keep going?”
Harry moaned, certain he had never been more turned on in his entire life than to have his wolfie take him so rough like this.
“Is that a yes?” Draco asked, prying Harry’s chin up to force the boy to meet his eye. Harry didn’t say anything, just looked at his love with all he could feel and more. Draco swallowed hard, his arm moving down Harry’s back and cupping the boy’s cheek. “I think you’re going to like this,” Draco said hoarsely, right before lifting Harry up, wrapping the boy’s legs around his hips, and slowly letting Harry fall onto his cock.
“Oh fuck… Draco, Draco, I can’t—Oh! Ohhh…” Whimpering loudly, body jerking fitfully, Harry opened up to Draco, his slick passage not giving any resistance to the unbearable thickness suddenly pushing into him. He bit Draco’s shoulder, hands clutching at his back, pulling at his silky hair while Harry tried to keep his sanity. He was vaguely aware of just how strong Draco had gotten, the boy holding him up with ease as he leaned against the couch, muscles tight as he kept Harry from being filled too quickly.
“That’s it, Harry… that’s it… God, I knew you’d like this…” Not fully embedded, Draco pulled Harry up, shallowly fucking his shaking body a few aching, hard pumps. He then pulled Harry down again, inch by inch while the brunette sobbed from the sensation of being filled so completely. Draco held him there, trying so hard to keep from coming with Harry so damn tight around him.
Barely able to lift his head, Harry sought out Draco’s mouth, tongue weak and languid with each touch to the taller boy’s. “While it’s still… so tight…” Harry gasped out. “Bite me… while it’s…”
Draco didn’t wait for Harry to finish, pulling Harry’s choker up and clamping his teeth into the boy’s tanned neck. Harry howled, his body tightening as he jerked. Draco held him still, not letting him escape as his power rose up around the two of them. It was similar to the packbond, but felt so different, Draco’s power tingling around Harry, holding him close, promising to love him, and protect him, and never leave him. It didn’t force Harry down, instead Harry’s power rising to meet him, twining between them, binding them together in such an unfamiliar way, they both gasped in surprise.
Harry whimpered, feeling Draco confused and trying to withdraw the instant the spell had completed. He gripped his thighs tighter, holding on when Draco sank to his knees, still so deep inside Harry’s body. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, holding Draco’s face, fingers caressing. “Just give it a second…”
Draco nodded blearily. He could feel Harry, so close, wrapped tight around him but also now connected inside him. He forced his eyes open, needing to know the boy was alright. Because if this was so emotional that Draco was struggling, there was no way Harry was dealing better. Sure enough, the brunette was fighting tears, his lovely eyes a watery pond of green. Draco smiled weakly, kissing Harry before the mutt could lose it. He then pushed the slender boy down on his back and pumped long thrusts into his agonizingly tight hole.
“Yes… oh god…” Harry’s entire body was tingling, each touch from Draco’s skin, inside and out, a jolt of electricity and fire. He could see Draco was having the same problem, the boy’s expression fierce as he tried to hold himself back, wanting to give Harry as much as he could before he came. “Please…” Harry muttered, pulling Draco down hard atop him, the boy’s weight crushing him into the floor. “I want it hard. I know you don’t like to…”
Draco growled, his only warning before the blond was suddenly moving, flipping Harry like a piece of paper and wrenching his hips back. He forcefully spread Harry’s thighs wide while the brunette grabbed the floor to keep from falling forward. Harry bit his lip, Draco breathing heat over his neck, tongue teasing the bite mark he had made as he pressed against Harry’s entrance with his cock. Not able to see him, Draco really did seem different to Harry’s senses. Dangerous. His tame, sweet wolfie had become wild and unhinged overnight. Harry really, really liked it.
Plunging into Harry with a growl, Draco held him tight, moving with hard, jolting thrusts while Harry groaned and pushed back to meet him. “Oh… Like that… fuck yes… again…” God, Draco had given so much to be with him. Had bent and twisted until he was this rough, wild thing just so Harry could be happy. And he was. He was so overwhelmingly joyful that Draco was his. “Draco… Draco, I love you,” Harry whispered, another tear stealing its way loose.
“Love you too, mutt.” Draco pushed Harry’s shirt up higher, giving him clearer access to the boy’s cock. Harry looked down, eyes widening when Draco suddenly slipped a leather cock ring around him, pushing it down to the base of his erect penis and letting it cling tight. “Draco…?”
“Just trying to slow you down,” Draco teased huskily, nibbling at Harry’s ear. “It’s going to be a long weekend, and I can’t have you getting tired on me early. And I do plan on making you tired.” He suddenly pushed Harry forward, the brunette resting his head on the floor while Draco ground into him ruthlessly.
Harry rarely got tired when it came to sex, yet his love was determined to make sure he did. Smiling goofily, Harry gave another loud cry when Draco slammed into his prostate. It was just some fucking makeup. If it made Draco happy, Harry would walk around naked. Fuck the rest of the school. Draco was his mate, was fucking amazing, and Harry wanted everyone to know.
Harry met Hermione’s gaze warily, not really liking her haughty expression. It had been a huge decision to come to the girl for help, and he was certain he was going to regret it. Hermione just couldn’t ever shut her mouth about things, and he didn’t mean secrets. No, it was more the thing Harry was certain was about to pop out of her mouth right now as she sniffed disapprovingly at his appearance.
“You do realize you’re wearing makeup, right? Like a girl.”
Harry had realized, Hermione not being the first one to point it out that week. “Actually, more like a rockstar, or punk, or goth, or just a guy wearing makeup. I’m not a girl. I don’t look like a girl, and really don’t care what you have to say about it. Now, about that spell?”
Huffing, Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Why should I help you? All Ron has done is complain about how mean you’ve been.”
“I haven’t been anything to him,” Harry snapped. “I haven’t said two words to him for damn ages. That’s not being mean.”
“Sounds mean to me. You’ve been a jerk, Harry, and I don’t know why I should want to reward that. If you did your own schoolwork, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s not—” Harry stopped himself, biting his tongue. He couldn’t ask Draco for help, because the boy would want to know why Harry needed help. Hermione was his only fucking hope, and she was being hurt and pissy. He forced himself to smile, knowing by her expression that he was failing. “I would really appreciate it. You have a lot of experience in finding information in the library that I just can’t. I just need to stop a smell. Charm it away—It can’t be covered up. It needs to be stopped. Or, I need to find a way for a person to not smell this smell. Anything you can find would be really helpful.”
Hermione sighed, pushing her bushy hair back over her shoulder. She had stayed up late studying in the empty common room, having caught Harry by accident coming in. The boy was always running around in the middle of the night, and Ron had said that Harry was hanging out with Malfoy of all people. Harry was just going to hell in front of her eyes, dressing like some hooligan and barely passing his classes. They had been friends once, but it was difficult to remember that when the boy was always brooding, playing mean pranks, and had started getting really rough and fighting whenever someone crossed him. Maybe that would have been okay, but Harry had also said some unkind things to her, things that had hurt extra because they had grains of truth to them.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said, collecting her book and parchment. “I have my own schoolwork to do, and can’t just be distracted by everyone else’s problems.”
“That’s fair,” Harry said, hands in his pockets. Hermione stood, lips pursed as she looked him over. He was wearing a thin, nearly transparent long sleeved shirt, long shorts with flared legs and straps crisscrossing behind him, and calve-high, heavy boots only tied halfway up so the leather gaped open. He had a row of varied black bracelets nearly covering his left arm, his right only in one thick leather cuff. Harry’s hair, usually a mess, seemed almost intentionally so tonight, pulled in a way that looked attractive. Maybe he was trying to look a bit like some rockstar wannabe. Hermione had never been one for bad boys, but she could see the appeal, her former friend looking very handsome, his bright eyes almost memorizing with the eyeliner.
“What did you do to your glasses?” She asked, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t wearing them anymore. Harry reached up, fingers brushing his face and coming away with his suddenly visible frames. Hermione was impressed, looking at them carefully. “That’s pretty advanced magic. I didn’t know you—”
“I didn’t,” Harry said, slipping them back on, the glasses disappearing as they touched his skin. “Malfoy did it. He’s really good with complicated spells.”
Hermione blinked at that, eyebrows raised. “Did he… did he help with all your new changes?” She asked, wondering just what the hell Harry was doing with Malfoy, where the boy was giving him a makeover. Harry had been dressing like this for a good week now, although his school robes obscured a lot of it from sight during class.
Shrugging, Harry shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, looking for all the world like he just wanted to leave already.
It wasn’t like it was a normal makeover, either, Hermione mussed, her mind whirling. Harry had never liked to be looked at, didn’t even like it now when Hermione was blatantly staring. He hated being made a fuss of, and now the boy was dressing outrageously. “Did you… did you lose a bet, or something?” She asked, not sure she would believe that as being the answer. The clothes were expensive, and Harry looked attractive, not shamed and embarrased
Glancing up at her from his study of his boots, Harry smiled thinly. “Won, if anything.”
Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling worried for her old friend. Harry was so different lately, and now Malfoy had been allowed to just change him again. “Don’t forget what his father did to us, Harry. With Riddle’s journal. He could have gotten us all killed with that snake, and…”
Harry rolled his eyes, huffing as he took a step back. “Draco’s not his father. He doesn’t even like his father.”
“Are you sure?” Hermione pressed, reaching her hand out to him, only to immediately drop it. “He’s good at lying, remember? He could be using you. Trying to gain your trust. You’ve been really off lately. It wouldn’t take much to trick you.”
Scowling, Harry stopped his retreat. “Believe me, you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
Hermione didn’t back down. “How can you be sure he’s not using you? Trying to—What? Bribe you with new clothes? Show off how rich he is? Is he going to get you a new broom, too? His father is a Death Eater. You’re friends with the son of a Death Eater.”
“Boyfriend,” Harry said tightly, gritting his teeth. “Draco is my boyfriend.”
Gaping at him, Hermione placed her hand to her forehead. “Damn it… Harry, I didn’t…”
“No, just stop talking,” Harry growled warningly. “Because in about two seconds you’re going to start on about how fucking worse that is, because my head is up my fucking arse in love and can’t see clearly. You don’t know shit about him. You really don’t know shit about me, and I’m sorry I even tried to talk to you again.”
“But…” Hermione watched helplessly as Harry stormed up to his dorm. He was gay? She shook her head, sinking back into her seat. How the hell had she missed the fact that her friend of two years liked boys? Was this why Harry had been avoiding her? Had she been so insensitive that he just couldn’t even bare to be around her? Hermione didn’t know, but she felt like she needed to fix it somehow. For starters, by finding that spell he wanted.
Harry was so upset, he stomped into the bedroom he shared with the rest of the Gryffindor third years, not caring if he woke anyone up. They all had their bed curtains drawn with privacy charms up anyways to block out noise. It was standard procedure, no one wanting to get caught having a wet dream. Harry stripped fitfully, not even sure he’d be able to sleep now.
Stupid Hermione, putting her foot in her mouth once again. Draco had given up his fucking family to be in Harry’s pack, even if he hadn’t told anyone yet. The boy had fucking sacrificed so much, and Harry still wasn’t even sure why. Because Harry was hardly perfect in any way. He wasn’t clever, wasn’t particularly strong or fast. He could kick ass in Quidditch, but that wasn’t really something to go loving a bloke over.
He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Draco loved him and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter why. Draco was brilliant, beautiful, witty, and apparently willing to learn and do some very nasty things to Harry to keep him happy sexually. He loved Harry so much he had mated him, and that was huge. He just had to remember. Draco loved him, even if Harry could not understand why.
He considered briefly seeing if Draco had gotten to bed already. He’d much rather curl in some dungeon room with the boy than ruminate alone with his messed up head. But Draco needed to sleep. His wolfie actually cared about school and grades, and Harry didn’t want to become a nuisance. Sighing, he threw his bed curtains opened, and was halfway onto the bed before he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Neville—Shit—Stop!” Harry hissed, finding his arms suddenly tied behind his back while he was pushed down into the mattress face first. The bed curtains were pulled tight around them, silencing spells muffling the small space. Neville suddenly lifted him, dragging him up the bed with a single, powerful move that had Harry’s eyes wide and heart racing all at once. What the fuck?
“See, Harry? Strong.” Neville straddled the boy’s back, hands moving beneath Harry’s shirt, touching firmly, digging fingers in and scraping his nails painfully. “I just had to find the right spell.”
“Get the fuck off me!” Harry struggled, trying to lift himself up and push the boy off, but without his arms it was very difficult. Not to mention, feeling a body pressing him down like this really got him hot, as did pushing back against it. “Damn it! Do you not understand anything? I have a pack! I have a boyfriend! I don’t fucking like you!”
Neville shrugged disinterestedly, tearing at Harry’s belt. Harry could say he didn’t like him till he was blue in the face, but as long as he kept smelling the way he did, Neville knew better. “I really like your new clothes. You look really hot—Really, really hot. I wish I was that brave. But looking at you… smelling you…” He groaned, leaning down to smell Harry’s hair while he rubbed his erection against the boy’s firm ass. “You want it so bad… and I want to give it to you…”
Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Neville, it’s just a fucking sex scent. You know I can’t control—Fuck! Vicious… rabid… bastard!” Neville hurt when he bit, teeth clamping in too hard, wrenching every time he pulled away, only to do it again. Harry whimpered, hating his body so much right now, the pain making him hard, each malicious snapping of teeth on his shoulders and neck flooding heat through him like a warm syrup of need. “Fucking hate you…” he gritted out angrily, even while pushing his hips into the mattress for more contact on his hardening dick.
Neville smiled into Harry’s neck, pushing the boy’s shorts down over his hips, along with his underwear. “No you don’t… Otherwise you would have told Lupin.” He gripped Harry’s outer thighs, nails biting in, scratching as he pulled up his sides and drew blood. Harry hissed from the pain, again trying to throw the boy off his back. “You like me… And you’re going to like me more, now that I made myself strong for you.”
God, he was feeling so hot, Harry finding his breath coming out in harsh pants. Every pull of his arms in their bonds seemed to go straight to his cock, his inability to escape somehow maddeningly sexy when combined with Neville’s sudden strength. “Stop… biting…” Harry gritted out, the blond again tearing into his flesh, leaving welts and breaking his skin.
“It feels good,” Neville moaned, opening his mouth wider, tongue pushing out to taste the trickles of blood. He liked the taste of Harry’s skin, and he liked how his mouth got sore, his lips raw with every nip, jaw tight, the feel of firm flesh on his teeth. He clamped his teeth into Harry’s shoulder, biting hard on the muscle. Harry groaned, hips pushing back against him, and Neville knew the boy really, really liked it. No matter how much Harry yelped when he then wrenched his mouth away, teeth scraping and pinching.
“I want to fuck you, Harry. It’s my turn.” Neville pushed up Harry’s thin shirt as much as he could on the boy’s torso, fingers slipping underneath and seeking out his budded nipples. “I don’t care how many you have in your pack, and what you let them do to you. Just as long as you play with me sometimes…”
“Fucking—Bastard!” Harry hissed, Neville twisting one of his nipples so hard, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was still attached. “Stop being so fucking rough… ohh… oh fuck…” He gaped, thighs spreading unconsciously wider, his boots catching on the blanket.
“You like that, right? I can tell… It hurts, and then you like it… and you smell even better…”
Harry whimpered when Neville twisted the same flaming bud, the boy’s fingernails digging in. He was grateful for the sweat, making it harder for Neville to hold as tight even though the boy still managed to make it hurt. Shit, what the hell was Neville’s problem? “Damn it… You don’t have to hurt me to—Fucking shit! Seriously, stop biting!”
Neville snickered into Harry’s skin, teeth pulling harshly as he released, leaving a dark welt. “I like it. You can bite me whenever you want, Harry. You can do whatever you want to me, and I promise I’ll never get angry.”
“I don’t want to do anything to you, you crazy idiot. I just want—Crap, don’t do that… Really, don’t… oh fuck…” One of Neville’s hands had made its way down the front of Harry’s bare torso, fingers wrapping around his dick. Harry panted, praying the boy would show some damn restraint.
“You’re hard,” Neville whispered, licking up Harry’s throat, letting his weight sink down fully on the boy while he rubbed against him eagerly. “You’re hard because you like what I’m doing to you.”
Huffing, Harry turned his head to the side, trying to breathe against the bedspread. “You wouldn’t have tied me up—Oh, gentle! Please, for the love of god, do not hurt that!” Harry pleaded, eyes squeezed shut when Neville started scraping fingernails against the silken flesh of his hard cock.
“Just a little,” Neville promised, squirming against Harry’s back as he pushed his own pants down. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you here… I really like how hard you get, Harry. I like knowing I can make you hard—That you like what I do to you.”
Harry, all his attention focused on the dangerous fingernails now traveling towards his very sensitive head, and even more so slit, didn’t reply. If Neville couldn’t fucking figure out that jumping him, tying him up, and using magically enhanced strength was the only way Harry would even look at the boy twice, he would not be able to convince him now when his pants were around his thighs and his cock was very hard in the boy’s grasp.
“You know… I think we’re even about the same length,” Neville remarked with a smile, Harry hissing when the boy’s nails slid from the very tip of his cock down to his balls. Then Neville’s palm was wrapping around him, too dry, the small scrapes feeling like burns as the boy began to pump him.
“Neville—Shit—Lube, saliva, something!” Harry choked out, groaning even with the pain, his body responding with jolting hips.
“I know it hurts… but sometimes it’s supposed to hurt,” Neville mumbled, his free hand suddenly sliding between Harry’s tight cheeks, seeking out his pucker. Harry had been with Draco that night, the Slytherin transforming into his wolf for him to make sure Harry would be full and satisfied until the next time he had a chance to see his love. Harry was extremely grateful for the stretching that had involved, Neville briefly pressing his thumb into Harry’s opening before immediately withdrawing and pressing the head of his cock between his cheeks.
“Just wait one fucking…” Harry trailed off with a hiss, wishing he hadn’t cleaned up before the walk through the halls, not even remotely enough lube to make things slick. As long as he didn’t—Son of a— “Damn it, Neville,” Harry whined loudly, his hole clenching tight around the too dry intruder, the fucking coyote not even remotely as small as Harry had hoped. God, why was his body turning on him tonight?
“You’re so hot… so tight inside…” Neville groaned, gripping Harry’s hip painfully, nails digging in as he thrust forward.
“It hurts… you fucking… ass…” Harry whimpered angrily, his entrance burning with every inch Neville forced into him. At least the coyote had enough precum, enough fucking fluid to not burn every damn surface of Harry’s insides. At least when Draco had taken him unstretched, he had been slow, allowing Harry to adjust with every perfect push. If Neville had ever fucked anyone, Harry didn’t believe it, and he was very unhappy to be the ignorant kid’s trial run.
“Its ‘cus you’re so tight… You are really… wow…” Neville took a deep breath, burying his face into Harry’s neck. “God Harry, you feel so good inside… I dreamed of fucking you one day, but it never… god, it never felt this good…”
Harry groaned, gritting his teeth and praying the annoying fuck would cum already and let him go. “Neville… read a fucking… sex book… and stop…”
“Shh… Just close your eyes,” Neville murmured. “I’m gonna just… and you’re gonna like it so much…”
“Stop, you fucking—Nails!”
Neville growled into Harry’s neck, fingernails again digging into the boy’s hard cock. “Be nice, Harry. I could have called you fucking stupid names… made you drink terrible potions… I could have dressed you up in horrible clothes…” Neville kissed the side of Harry’s neck, his hand lightening in pressure. “But I like you, and I want to do things that you’ll like.”
“Neville… If you don’t listen to me… then you can’t know that I don’t like it!” Harry snapped back, groaning when Neville suddenly gasped, sinking in the last painful inch, Harry’s hole unbearably tight.
“I know you like it,” Neville insisted. He bit Harry’s shoulder, the brunette moaning, his traitorous body just happy to be filled. “You really feel… so good inside…”
“Oh hell, Neville… my prick is not a handle. Now let it the fuck go,” he snapped, sighing in relief when the boy finally released his aching length. Only to groan, Neville grabbing his hips with both hands, using the leverage to drive Harry forward into the mattress.
“Tell me… if I’m doing it right,” Neville whispered into Harry’s ear, lips wet on his skin. “I really want you to like it, Harry. When I’m with you, I want you to be happy.”
Harry really hated Neville, especially when his body was finally full of cock and the boy refused to move. “Just… just move, Neville… Damn it—And don’t be so rough.”
“You like it rough.” Neville groaned as he slowly withdrew from Harry’s tightness, only to quickly slam back in. “You keep getting tighter… like you’re pulling…”
“Listen to me,” Harry growled. “There is a—oh god—difference between rough and… and really fucking painful…” He trailed off, moaning lowly. Shit, why did he have to like sex this much? If his body knew a difference, it did not seem to care. “And without something slick, like a lube charm… it just hurts…”
Neville stilled, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Lube?”
“Oh, for fuck sake! Tell me you’ve heard of lube,” Harry demanded, glaring back at the boy, his bound arms sore and his raw hole even more so.
Neville shook his head no, lip caught between his teeth. “What is it?”
Harry gave a long suffering sigh, promising himself he would beat the shit out of Neville once he was free. “It’s usually an oil safe to use on the skin, the good stuff is natural and long lasting—It makes things slick, so when you’re fucking it doesn’t hurt.”
Head tilted, Neville suddenly smiled down at Harry. “That would probably help. I didn’t want to say anything, but you are really way too tight, and I bet—”
Harry buried his head in the mattress, swearing loudly. He wouldn’t be tight if the stupid fucker had stretched him, and lubed him, and oh, just wasn’t fucking raping him. He hated Neville, fucking hated him. “Wand!” He abruptly ordered, Neville staring at him dumbly for a moment before complying.
“Ducatus coitus,” Harry intoned slowly, so Neville could repeat it. Staring at the slick, gel like material suddenly all over his hands, Neville gave it a sniff. He flicked his tongue out, brows furrowed.
“Why does it taste like strawberries?”
“Because wizards are pervs,” Harry grumbled. “Just use it so it doesn’t hurt so much.”
Shrugging, Neville extracted himself from Harry’s clenching rear, the brunette hissing the entire time. “Oh… oh, that’s really…” Harry glared up at the boy while Neville ran his slick hand over his cock, the blond sighing, cheeks flushing brightly from the sensation.
“Better?” Harry asked gruffly, annoyed with just how cute Neville looked, the boy’s tongue sticking out between his lips, eyelids fluttered shut while he gasped softly against his skin.
“It’s amazing… I never thought…” Neville trailed off, glancing away from Harry’s gaze.
Harry sighed. The boy was really messed up. “Neville, don’t let anyone fuck you without lube. That’s just a really shitty thing to do to someone.”
Neville glanced back, biting his lip again. He wiggled up Harry’s back until their foreheads were pressed together. “If you fucked me, would you use lube?” Neville asked, eyes intent on Harry’s.
Pursing his lips, Harry nodded once. “I prefer to be the one getting fucked. But yes, if I were to fuck a bloke, or even give him a proper, good hand job, I’d use lube.”
Eyes moving over Harry’s face with something far more annoying than simple attraction, Neville moved closer, brushing the side of his nose to Harry’s. “Do you think you’d ever want to fuck me? I… I really want you to fuck me, Harry. I don’t think I ever wanted anyone to, but there is just something about you… that I really like…” He pressed his lips carefully to the brunette’s, knowing at least in this it shouldn’t hurt.
Staring blankly at the maddening idiot kissing him, Harry eventually sighed. “Neville, untie me.”
Gnawing on his lower lip again, Neville pulled away. “Now,” Harry demanded when the blond hesitated. With a heavy sigh, Neville picked up his wand and tapped it to Harry’s bonds, the ropes evaporating. Harry stretched his arms out, rubbing his wrists and rolling on the bed. “Well, come on. Take your damn clothes off,” Harry said with a huff.
“Huh… um… what?” Neville mumbled, eyes widening when Harry suddenly reached up and began tugging off his school shirt.
“You can’t have sex with clothes on—I mean, you can, if that’s your kink, but it gets damn messy, really quick. And skin just feels so much nicer…” Harry pulled his own shirt up and extracted the sleeve from his many bracelets, finding Neville again, the boy’s expression still very confused. “Don’t get the wrong idea, you idiot. I have an amazing boyfriend, and a pack. I just really happen to like sex… and since you’re already here…”
Neville nodded dumbly, eyes lingering over Harry’s nipples. “But…”
“You know what? You probably shouldn’t talk either,” Harry muttered, kicking his shoes off and getting his shorts and underwear down. When Neville still made no move to continue, Harry grabbed the boy by the open ends of his trousers, pulling his pants down roughly to his knees where they knelt. Neville blinked down, suddenly holding Harry’s hips for balance while looking at their flushed cocks.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Neville asked, lube slicked fingers reaching for Harry’s length and rubbing over the straining head.
“No,” Harry said flatly. He was pretty sure fucking Neville would just make the kid completely beyond in love with him, and Neville obsessed was absolutely bad enough. “If you want to put it in me, that’s fine, but that is the most you’re getting from me effort wise. Now kick your pants off the rest of the way.”
Neville did, having to sit to extract his slender legs from his trousers. He was watching Harry warily, as if not knowing if he could trust the boy all of a sudden. Which only made Harry worry more about the damn kid. Neville was perfectly fine to chase after him when Harry was saying no, but the second he gave him an in, the blond was paranoid. There was something seriously messed with the kid.
“Why are you doing this?” Neville asked, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“Does it really fucking matter?” Harry retorted with a derisive snort.
“Kind of… You’re not so lost that you can’t run away… and… you’re being oddly nice…” Neville mumbled, crawling up the bed and stopping at Harry’s kneeling form. “I know you don’t… don’t really like me, Harry.”
Harry really hated his life. “Neville, you’re not a bad guy… besides the raping…” Harry trailed off, really having nothing more to add to such a fucked up statement. “But, if you’re going to fuck a bloke, you should at least do it proper. I mean, damn, you fucking hurt. It’s not cool.”
Neville nodded, wetting his lips as he sat back. “I don’t really know how else… I just thought that was how it was supposed to be.”
“Shit, no one would have sex if all they did was hurt each other,” Harry said in exasperation. “No nails. No biting—”
“But you like the biting,” Neville insisted, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Not the way you do it. Let me show you,” Harry said abruptly, edging closer to the boy who was looking at him as if he were about to hex him. “Just relax,” Harry grumbled, annoyed that not only was he doing this, but suddenly Neville needed a peptalk too. He braced himself on the blond’s shoulders, ducking his head to brush his mouth to Neville’s neck. Ignoring just how stiff the boy was sitting, Harry carefully sunk his teeth into Neville’s neck, tongue lapping slowly while he breathed out through his nose. Neville made a soft noise, slowly relaxing under the touch.
Harry pulled away, making sure not to wrench his teeth like Neville had a terrible habit of doing. “There. Want to try?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in offering. It took a moment, Neville blinking dumbly. Then the boy slung an arm around Harry’s chest, growling as he buried his face into the brunette’s throat and clamped his teeth in. Harry groaned from the sensation, really hoping that the bite would end as good as it started. Thankfully, Neville had been paying attention, and even though he bit harder than Harry had shown him, he didn’t tear at him afterwards. “Good… that’s really good,” Harry said with a flush, pushing his damp hair back from his eyes.
“What else?” Neville asked, tension draining from his form, a small, eager smile on his face.
“Nails,” Harry said, smirking back. “You dig them in too hard. It’s not supposed to hurt…” Harry didn’t bother to add that sometimes some hurt was really fucking good when at the right time. Likely a bit too complicated for the boy currently looking at his hands. Harry reached over, running his short fingernails over Neville’s stomach, the boy gasping and quickly grabbing his wrist. “Too much?” Harry asked, confused by the reaction.
“No… just felt really good.” Neville bit his lip, slowly letting Harry’s hand go. The wariness was back in his blue eyes again, but still, he reached over and repeated the move on Harry, this time not drawing blood or hurting skin. “Is that better?”
Harry nodded, wondering just what the hell was going on in the blond’s head. “I can… show you how to kiss,” he offered, watching the boy’s expressions. There was definitely some sort of fucked up thing happening in that pretty head of Neville’s.
“Um… okay,” Neville said after a long moment, leaning forward on his hands. Harry hesitated, Neville not closing his eyes even inches apart. He carefully placed his hands over the boy’s face until Neville got the point and finally lowered his lashes. “You want to feel it. When your eyes are open, it’s hard to feel as much…” Shaking his head, Harry leaned in, brushing his lips to the boy’s.
Neville was trembling like a leaf, and Harry began to worry that he had definitely made the wrong choice to indulge the boy. Hopefully it was just nerves and not some loving quiver. He cupped the blond’s cheek, pulling him closer, kissing him with more pressure. Neville exhaled sharply through his mouth, Harry smirking to realize the boy was holding his breath. “Breathe through your nose if you can,” he murmured, reaching his tongue out and slicking gently over the boy’s bottom lip. Neville whimpered, mouth going slack, letting Harry slowly nibble at his lip, drawing the pink flesh into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.
Gasping, Neville pulled away, burying his face into Harry’s cheek. Studying the boy’s expression in the dim lighting, Harry nudged Neville’s chin, kissing him again, tangling his fingers into the blond’s soft hair and pulling muffled gasps from his lips. Neville’s tongue was uncoordinated at best, but he made up for it with passion, the boy meeting each of Harry’s touches eagerly. And then something changed, and Neville was definitely winning the kiss, the boy grasping forcefully at Harry’s shoulders, tongue delving into the brunette’s mouth.
“Hell,” Harry grunted, Neville pushing him back, down to the bed, giving him a moment of respite before attacking his mouth again while pinning him. And this time Harry really didn’t mind, no nails digging in painfully, or horrible bites to take away from the very nice feeling of hot, smooth flesh and wet mouth. Neville trailed down Harry’s neck, kissing and biting, groaning each time Harry moaned.
Harry wrapped a leg around the boy’s hips, letting his hands slide carefully down Neville’s back. The boy was oddly jumpy, startling sometimes when he wasn’t expecting Harry’s touch. So Harry just kept his palms flat, a constant presence as he moved over Neville’s flared shoulders, trim waist, and the swell of his ass. He squeezed gently, Neville pulling from where he was sucking breathlessly on Harry’s collar to meet the boy’s eye.
“You can tell me not to do something, you know,” Harry said after a moment, not sure what the blond needed, but getting an idea that Neville didn’t like to be touched much.
“No… I just… It feels good,” Neville mumbled, looking away. “I’m just not used to… that.”
“Well, then you’re definitely with the wrong people,” Harry said lightly. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling good. By definition, it’s good to feel good.” Neville nodded mutely, eyes making their way back to Harry’s. Head tilting, he kissed the brunette, Harry suspecting just to shut him up at this point. He didn’t care. Harry knew Neville was fucked up because he recognized his own messed up self when looking at the boy. For right this minute, Harry decided he didn’t have to hate that either.
“Wait,” Harry paused, breaking from the long kiss when Neville started shifting his hips. “The other way,” he said, untangling his leg and rolling on the bed. There was no way he was going to let Neville fuck him face to face like that. The boy kept looking way too sad at times, and it was a total mood killer. He raised himself to his hands and knees, stretching out as he waited for the blond.
Neville summoned more lube, sounding rather proud of himself as he ran his fingers down between Harry’s cheeks. Harry rolled his eyes when the boy began to slick his hands over his hard length next, completely oblivious to the need to stretch. Shifting down to his elbow, Harry did it himself, quickly probing his own lube slick fingers inside his hole, gasping from the feel, his body clenching, entrance burning painfully from the rough treatment of earlier. Harry had gotten over worse for a desperately needed fuck, and although this was not one of those times, he was sure he’d be fine.
“Does that… feel good?” Neville asked, curling over Harry’s body, head lowering to the brunette’s. “You really seem to like it.”
Harry held back a laugh at the question, a moan escaping instead when Neville pressed his thumb against his already finger-stuffed hole. “Oh fuck… that’s… that’s…”
Seeing that Harry really seemed to like that, Neville swallowed hard, wiggling his thumb back and forth while watching the brunette’s face. Harry gave an aching cry, gasping against the bedspread with each rock of Neville’s digit. Biting his lip, Neville pulled Harry’s fingers from his entrance, pressing the head of his cock to his hole instead. Every reaction Harry made seemed to make Neville hotter than any scent or touch had done, his eyes caught on the brunette’s bowed head, Harry whimpering as Neville slowly drove into him.
Neville closed his eyes, gaping from the feel of Harry, so hot, and now slick, the boy’s channel clenching around him.
“Fuck… move, Nev… don’t just stay still…” Harry pleaded, pushing back, thighs spreading wider as he rested his head on his folded arms.
Wetting his lips, Neville rocked back, keeping his eyes closed so he could feel every tight inch of Harry trying to hold him in. He groaned as he surged forward, feeling the boy open to him again, Harry making an appreciative cry in reply. It was good. He was actually fucking Harry, and felt really, really good.
“That’s it,” Harry gasped out, Neville picking up speed, his thrusts, combined with the spell that made him stronger, pushing Harry forward up the bed until he was grabbing the headboard to keep from cracking his skull on it. “Harder, Nev… fucking do it… hard…” he demanded hoarsely, bracing himself so he could push back into each driving jolt of pleasure.
Neville grunted, Harry growing unbelievably tight and trying to hold him still, even while demanding he move harder. But he really wanted Harry to feel good. He reached around Harry and grabbed the headboard as well, gasping in the boy’s ear while he used the new leverage to drive into the brunette forcefully.
“Oh yeah, that’s it… just… like… that…” Harry moaned, rocking with Neville, his already aching hole so sore and loving every wet, bruising thrust. “Fuck, don’t stop… just a little more…”
“Oh!” Neville gaped, Harry suddenly squeezing him so tight, he couldn’t do anything but slam forward, holding the brunette’s sweaty body while he came inside his clenching hole. He only had an instant to worry that he had very much done the opposite of what Harry had so achingly demanded, when he felt the boy come, Harry falling forward onto the headboard, gasping for air.
“Wait… just stay a sec,” Harry whimpered, hand reaching out behind him to grab Neville’s arm and keep it wrapped around him. “God, it feels good inside… just let me be full for a bit.”
Eyes wide, Neville slowly sank forward, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry still had bracelets on, Neville running fingers over a few while they panted together. “You liked it,” Neville whispered, pressing his cheek lightly to Harry’s.
“Yeah… well… I like sex,” Harry murmured back, hardly about to apologize for it. “Did you like it?” He asked, green eyes flicking open to glance sideways at the pensive looking blond.
“I’m not sure…” Neville said truthfully, fingers twisting into one of Harry’s bracelets. “It’s a lot of work, all that thrusting. And… and it felt… well, it felt… And I don’t know how I feel about feeling things.”
Harry chose not to comment on just how odd a thing that was to say. “When it feels good, I really enjoy it. And sometimes, when it feels good with just a little bit of pain, that’s even better. But if it doesn’t feel good, I know I don’t want to feel it.” He sighed, straightening a bit, still holding onto Neville’s arm to keep the boy deep inside. “As for all that thrusting, well, it’s great exercise. And when you bottom as much as I do, you really don’t have to worry about it much. I’d rather let some powerful, usually sexy prat do the work for me while I cheer him on enthusiastically.”
Neville nodded, mind straying to the boy he had been trying very hard not to think about lately. “Hey, Harry… What do you think about Zabini?”
Eyes again glancing Neville’s way, Harry raised a brow. “Um… I guess he would fit into powerful, sexy prat, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I think he likes me,” Neville said after a moment, resting his cheek on the boy’s shoulder. “Except… he’s also angry at me…”
Harry snorted softly. “That seems about right. Did he hit you, or something?”
“Nah… he just kinda glares at me now… like all the time. He tried to kiss me and stuff… and I guess I just wasn’t any good.” Neville shrugged.
“Well, he seemed more interested in you than me the other week, which is really saying something with my sex scent,” Harry said, releasing Neville’s wrist and wiggling his way free. He stretched his arms over his head, sitting out on his bedspread while Neville sat back. “The Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. If he seriously likes you, I bet he’d really want to go with you.” Draco was taking Harry out for their first official date that weekend, promising some sort of fancy dinner or something equally romantic and embarrassing.
“I got banned…” Neville muttered, internally cursing his potions professor.
Harry winced. “Forgot about that… Snape’s a total ass. It doesn’t matter, Nev, trust me. The kid likes you. Just talk to him, or some shit. You don’t even have to say anything interesting. He’s a guy, and guys really don’t give a fuck.”
Neville wasn’t so sure, worried if Zabini was really angry at him, that he might try to hurt him. But so far, Blaise had proven that even when upset he wouldn’t hurt Neville, so maybe that was enough to at least try and set things right with the Slytherin.
Harry threw Neville’s pants at him, giving him a stern, sleepy look. “Only time this is ever going to happen, so don’t forget. My boyfriend is a right bastard when he’s crossed, and honestly, you deserve a beating for what you did, Neville. I’m not some fucking sex toy. Get a blowup doll or something. Definitely read a fucking book about all this stuff.”
Neville bit his lip, drawn back to the present as he slipped his shirt on. “Sorry… you’ve just been looking really good… And you really shouldn’t wear shorts, ‘cus it only makes the smell worse,” he said while blushing. “It was really hard today, being in the same classes with you smelling so good…”
Harry grimaced, not having even thought of that. “I’m trying to find a way to stop my scent. Until then, you need to get some fucking self control, Neville. You don’t see Zabini trying to break down the common room door, do you?”
“I know… just sometimes things get really hazy… and I don’t really know what’s happening…” Neville trailed off, shimmying into his pants and zipping them up. It was why he had so many problems in some classes. Not just because he got nervous with everyone making fun of him, but because sometimes he just sort of went blank, and couldn’t remember the class at all. “I’ll, uh, let you get to sleep,” he said, reaching for the curtain.
Harry held his hand up, waving Neville back. “I’m serious, Neville. Fucking deathly serious here. If you try and pull something like this again, I’m telling Lupin. I don’t want to, but I can’t be worried about you jumping me in my bed every fucking night. I don’t care how fucked you are in the head. No more.”
Neville nodded, sighing heavily. “I understand.” He slipped out before Harry found anything else to be angry about, certain the boy had a list. Neville really couldn’t do things right. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure when he had decided to hide in Harry’s bed hangings and wait for the boy. And at the time, he really hadn’t thought he had been waiting just to fuck him against his will. Neville never wanted to hurt Harry. He really liked the boy.
He had remembered he had wanted to talk to Harry… And then Harry’s bed had been full of that crazy scent…
Neville sighed again. Maybe it would be better if Harry did tell on him. Maybe Lupin hurting, or expelling him would keep Neville from doing anything else really terrible.
“Just ignore them.”
“I am ignoring them.”
Harry glanced over at Draco, taking in the boy’s grim expression and tense shoulders. “You’re growling. If you were ignoring them you wouldn’t be growling.”
Glaring down his nose, Draco didn’t say anything, his growl still rumbling low in his throat.
They were walking to Hogsmeade. It was the weekend and nearly the entire school was taking the trip to get out of the stuffy castle and explore the town. The air was chill, but at least no snow had fallen, making the trip easier. Still, things weren’t as ideal as Draco had apparently planned, because he was growling up a storm and not much else for his first date with Harry.
“Potter, you look like a wanker!”
Harry didn’t bother looking behind him, recognizing his own dormmates yelling from afar. Ron was pissed. Jealous, pissed, and hadn’t stopped giving Harry shit since he had seen him with Draco over a week ago. Draco hadn’t been around for most of it, but he was here for this and Harry wasn’t really sure how things were going to go.
Draco was different. Still haughty and privileged, with a nasty mouth on him. But now with a violent streak that Harry was worried was going to get the blond in trouble. Draco hadn’t done anything to anyone yet, but he was very sensitive about how Harry was treated. He had even had words with Remus once just that week about the werewolf alpha being too rough. Harry didn’t think Remus was too rough—Remus really didn’t have any other setting but rough. Draco getting up in Remus’s face had been definitely a show.
Seamus shouted something that had Draco bristling. Glancing to the side, Harry wiggled his fingers, brushing them against the back of Draco’s hand inconspicuously. Draco snarled and quickly grabbed his hand, wrapping their fingers together possessively. Harry fought back a blush. God, even now, Draco just made him fucking jelly.
“Cheer up, wolfie. We’re almost there and then you can show me that thing you keep talking about.” Harry wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
“I swear to god, mutt, it is not my fucking dick,” Draco said warningly. “It’s a present. A classy, sweet, romantic gesture. Stop perving out on everything.”
Grinning widely, Harry shook his head. “Nope. My way is much more fun.”
Ron would not be ignored. “Hey, if you like Slytherins so much, why don’t you go marry one!”
Draco’s growl resumed, Harry ducking his head only to blush brightly. “Sort of kind of did…” Harry mumbled under his breath.
“If your new best friend will let you, Potter! You better watch your ass with the way he looks at you!”
It was Draco’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“It’s okay, Seamus. Potter totally loves to talk to snakes. Bet he whispers to Malfoy’s every fucking night, right?”
“Are they trying to make fun of us for being gay, when they don’t even know we’re actually gay?” Draco asked Harry lowly, a small smirk twisting his lips.
“Err… I think so.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder, seeking out Hermione’s face. She looked miserable, glaring at Ron while huffing loudly as the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw boy’s continued to shout insults. When she caught Harry’s eye, she quickly mouthed ‘I didn’t tell.’ Harry wasn’t actually worried if she had or not. He wasn’t sure what kind of shit he’d get for being gay, but it probably wouldn’t be much worse than all the shit he got for being him in general. He was more worried about Draco being found out for liking him.
“You guys going to get a kissing booth today? I hear there are still some openings!”
Harry yelped when Draco suddenly stopped short and whirled. He tried to pull his blond mate away, but Draco was standing fast, glaring superiorly at the group of boys following them.
“Weasley, if you paid a fucking iota of the amount of attention you’re throwing at me and Potter, you could have gotten your girlfriend a booth at that silly restaurant today like a proper boyfriend.”
“Fuck you, ferret face! No one asked you to start shoving your pointy nose into my house’s business. Stick to your fucking snakes, and stay away from us Gryffindors!”
Harry just sighed, patting his bangs down while Draco stomped towards the red faced Ron.
“I’m allowed to talk to who I want, when I want, and you get no fucking say, you spotty faced, rodent teethed Weasel!”
“Like fuck you do! You’ve got a whole fucking school full of kids you can be friends with—Stay the fuck away from Harry!”
“Or what? He can’t fucking stand you, Weasley! Maybe if you let up for five fucking seconds and just let him be himself, he wouldn’t have dropped you like the fucking pathetic peasant you are! You’re a judgemental asshole. No wonder he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore!”
Spluttering, Ron reared his arm back in preparation to punch the blond. Draco quickly caught it, growling loud enough that Harry could hear it from his spot up ahead.
“You’re an arrogant, pompous jackass that’s going to get him killed, Malfoy. He might have fallen for your cool shit, but I haven’t,” Ron gritted through his teeth. “I’m fucking watching you. If you hurt him, or your father gets ahold of him because of you, I’ll hex the fucking skin from your flesh!”
Draco didn’t say a word, his eyes burning twin silver fires that had Ron immediately stilling.
Holy fuck, Draco was hot when he was angry. Trying to stop the very loud gasps from escaping his mouth, Harry ran his hand over his face, biting his palm to help ground him. It wasn’t helping, and he knew he was getting hard, and was so grateful for the long leather trenchcoat Draco had bought him. Forcing his voice to work, Harry called out. “Malfoy, if you get caught fighting, they’ll make us go back.”
Silver eyes narrowing over his shoulder, Draco gave a quick nod when he saw Harry’s face. Draco was the one all excited about this whole date thing. Harry could care less if they hung out in some stuffy restaurant or he got presents. He was more than happy to spend time with his wolfie wherever. Preferably where no one else was around to ruin things and they could fuck as much as they wanted. Harry really wanted to do that last part right now.
“What, are you scared, ferret!” Ron taunted when Draco abruptly let his arm go and started walking back to Harry. “You gonna let your boyfriend tell you what to do!”
Harry winced, seeing Draco’s eyes flash at the words. But Draco didn’t stop. He kept his pace even as he stalked forward, crossing the distance. Harry nearly breathed a sigh of relief, only to take a hesitant step back when he caught a familiar, dangerous look on Draco’s face. “W-Wolfie?”
“Sorry about this, mutt.” Draco grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him hard against his body. “But I can’t fucking listen to another gay joke when I’m not even allowed to kiss you.”
“Draco, just—mmph!” Effectively cut off, Harry just stared wide-eyed as Draco crushed their lips together. Harry wasn’t sure what his dormmates thought of him being kissed by the Slytherin prince, and he was quickly unable to care, Draco’s tongue hot and demanding as it pushed its way between his lips, the blond holding him possessively by the back of the neck to keep him from escaping. Moaning, Harry melted into the rough touch, his hands rising up to grip Draco’s long wool jacket and pull him closer. This time when Draco growled, it was all hot sex and Harry whimpered in response, pushing forward, meeting each thrust of tongue eagerly as he tried to climb into Draco’s coat.
Draco pulled away as quickly as he started, panting heavily as he stared down into Harry’s hazy eyes. “Come on, we still have that gift to get you.” He took Harry by the hand and began marching him at a fast pace to the town. Harry did his best to keep up while sporting an aching erection, daring a furtive glance behind at his dormmates. It wasn’t good. Slack jaws were just turning to mocking jeers by the time Draco hauled him around a corner.
Draco led Harry through a maze of back alleys behind buildings while Harry’s mind whirled. “Wolfie… Shit, what are your parents going to say?” Draco’s parents were crazy and neck deep in Voldemort’s pocket. It was the main reason Harry had been keeping his distance even though he’d been dating Draco for months now.
Draco spared him a side glance, kicking a plastic soda bottle out of the way before walking Harry around a dumpster. “Who the fuck cares. You’re my mate, Potter. You’re my crazy, deranged, wild mate and nothing else fucking matters besides that.”
Harry gnawed on his bottom lip, worry twisting in his stomach. “But what if they hurt you? What if… what if they try to use you to get to me?”
Draco stopped walking, Harry nearly stumbling into him. Then Draco was on him, arms around him tight, face tucked into the crook of Harry’s neck. “Listen to me carefully, mutt. They made their choice a long time ago. I made mine the second I agreed to be your mate and join your pack. This is my life, not theirs, and I decide what I want. Got it?”
Warmth flooding through his veins, Harry nodded. He slid his hands between the flaps of Draco’s coat, teasing over the boy’s hips. “You want me?”
Draco snorted, his breath ruffling Harry’s messy locks. “You’re such a slut. I tell you that I’m fully prepared for my parents to disown me because I love you that much, and all you can think about is sex.”
“It was hot, wolfie, watching you fight for me.” Harry licked his lips, looking up at the boy through his lashes. “If you had actually punched someone… Fuck, I don’t know if I could have kept my pants on.”
Growling, Draco wrapped an arm tighter around Harry’s waist, crushing their hips together, Harry’s erection finding a mirroring hardness. “That’s a feat on its own for you, mutt. I was hoping some of those extra belts would slow you down.”
“Wizard,” Harry reminded breathlessly, tilting his head so Draco would kiss down his neck. The blond obliged, his mouth hot and consuming as he kissed and then nipped soft gasps from Harry. Moaning, Harry hooked one of his legs around Draco’s, rubbing up against the boy with slow, eager movements. “Fuck me, Draco. Right here. Right now. You’re so hot when you’re threatening to beat the fuck out of someone. I want you so bad.”
Groaning, Draco pulled his lips away, glaring down at the brunette. “Potter, I’ve been waiting weeks to pick up this damn gift for you. They’re going to toss it out a window if they have to wait another day. And I’d prefer to be able to pay for it while my credit is still good. Who the fuck knows once my parents get the news that we’re dating?”
“Wolfie…” Harry whined, surging forward to run his tongue over Draco’s lips in tantalizing movements. “Stop buying me things. Just touch me. Fuck me, and be hard about it. I’m aching so bad, and you’re the only one that can fill me the way I need right now.”
Draco exhaled noisily, pressing kisses to Harry’s cheek and up to his ear. “God, you smell amazing. You’re ready to just spread your legs right now in some back alley over me making an ass of myself with the Weasel. You are too fucking easy, mutt.”
That sounded as damn near a yes as could be to Harry’s ear, and he quickly wrenched at Draco’s belt while rocking their hips together again. Only to have Draco push him back with a growl.
“No, Potter. I still have to pick up that gift. And we have reservations.”
“Wolfie…” Harry gave his best puppy dog eyes, which were completely wasted on Draco. “Damn it—You can’t be all hot and aggressive in front of me, and then leave me hanging.”
Eyes burning a fiery promise, Draco pulled Harry back against his chest. “It’ll only take ten minutes to get the very nice present I had custom made for you, Potter. That’s it.” His mouth hovering an inch from Harry’s, he added softly. “After that, if you want me to fuck you in some trashy alley where anyone can walk by and see, I won’t say no.”
Moaning at the very idea, Harry melted forward into Draco’s strong body. “God, please. I want you so bad. Need you—Tell me you can see. Tell me you can feel how much I’m yours.”
Draco released a small groan, his lips brushing softly against Harry’s. “I know, Harry. I can feel it. Ever since I bit you, I never wonder. No matter how many times you’re with the werewolf, I still know you’re mine. Now stop humping my leg, mutt. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back.”
Wetting his lips, Harry shakily untangled himself from Draco’s form. “Ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes.” Eyes trailing over Harry for a frozen eternity, Draco reached forward, fingers slowly unclasping the brunette’s belt. “Get ready for me. I want you lubed and stretched by the time I come back.”
“Oh fuck, Draco.” Eyes slipping around the deserted alleyway, Harry gave a small nod. He’d never had sex out in public. The closest had been fucking in a bathroom with a very upset young man waiting on the other side of the door until the boy had gave up and found a less occupied toilet. Watching Draco slowly walk away, the blond eventually disappearing around the corner, the first thing Harry did was cast a silencing spell. Then, knowing no one could hear him, he let out a loud moan that sounded half like a howl.
God, he was so horny. He had never expected to react that way to Draco fighting with Ron. Hell, if Draco had drawn blood… Harry closed his eyes, another loud moan escaping him. Fuck. Just fuck. It was hard enough hiding his nature in general from his classmates. If he started getting off on seeing Draco being a prat, Harry just didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep his secret.
He pushed his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. Then he knelt on it, taking in the tall dumpster and wooden crates that obscured him from the view of either side of the alley. God, he was really going to do this. Wolfie said stretched and lubed, and Harry was going to listen like he was supposed to. Holding his breath, he unzipped his fly, pushing his pants down his hips. He cast a warming spell soon after when he realized just how cold the winter air was.
Leaning forward onto his hands, he reached back, pushing his lube coated fingers against the edge of his hole. He knew the silencing spell would keep anyone from hearing, but he still bit his lip, still struggled to hold his cries in as he began working two fingers into his tightness. God, it was good. Wrong, and exposed, with him just waiting for Draco to find him and see him being bad on the ground like this. God.
He was aching, his scent so strong even to him, surrounding him in a cloud of his own need. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and Draco would be inside him, his hard cock stretching him wide, taking him, owning him, and making him all better. Needed it. He needed it so bad. Whimpering, Harry plunged his fingers in deeper, letting out a gasp as his flesh pinched uncomfortably. He was always too rough with himself. Went too fast, unable to stop the madness inside pleading to be full.
Groaning, he buried his head into his resting arm while he began to drive into himself roughly, rocking his hips into every thrust. He was already close. He knew it wasn’t the satisfying orgasm—no, those he only got when he was stretched beyond full, someone grunting in his ear while they took him hard, held him down, and close, and so good. He pushed his pants further down his thighs, hoping to avoid getting cum all over them. How long had it been? He needed to get a watch. Something very waterproof considering how wet he was always getting.
He didn’t hear them at first, his focus completely on his now three fingers working in and out of his hole, gliding, stretching, slamming and withdrawing. It wasn’t until fur was brushing against his face, a hot, wet tongue licking over his fingers that he realized he wasn’t alone anymore.
He quickly pulled his fingers free, gasping in shock. “Oh hell…” he trailed off, blinking up into a pair of warm brown eyes. “Err… hey boy. Please tell me you’re not connected to a leash and owner right now…”
The german shepherd didn’t answer beyond a low whine, his tongue whipping out to lick Harry’s face. Harry didn’t see a collar, didn’t see any other person as he looked around. He did see that the german shepherd wasn’t alone, a golden retriever sniffing the air as it made its way over. With a gasp, Harry, noticed the final one, the one that had licked his hand, a large mutt that looked reminiscent of a husky. Staring at these three very large, very sweet looking dogs as they sniffed his skin and licked at him enthusiastically, a hot shudder moved through Harry. Was this the present Draco had been talking about?
Casting his glance around again, just to be on the safe side, Harry leaned closer to the german shepherd licking his face, parting his lips and moaning as that tongue slipped into his mouth. He pushed his pants even further down his legs, pulling out of them quickly as a tongue began to slick over his crack, a wet nose pressing between his cheeks.
“Oh fuck, I love my mate so much. So very, very much.” Draco always teased him, always said he’d run off with the first pack of wild dogs Harry found. The blond knew how hot it got him, talking nasty shit like that. But it was more than just talk, because Harry had a thing for dogs. He was a bitch dog, and he couldn’t help but be attracted to the strong four legged bodies and big, knotted cocks that canines had. The only thing he was starting to realize that wasn’t ideal was that Padfoot and Wolfie were just so much bigger—In size as animals, and in cock. But Harry wasn’t going to complain. He’d been dreaming of something like this, and he was more than happy to take what was given.
“Come on,” Harry whimpered, pushing his hips back, trying to get the husky behind him to mount him. He had a tormented, whimpering fear that maybe real dogs just didn’t react to him the way animagus canines did, that they wouldn’t respond to his scent the way he needed them to. Then he noticed the swollen, red tipped shafts between the two dogs legs in front of him, and Harry moaned in relief. “Come on, boys. God, someone… someone put it in me before I fucking lose my mind.”
Harry didn’t know if there was some sort of command for this, having never owned a dog. He was willing to start whistling, or clapping, or just doing anything as his face was again licked to the point of suffocation by the two in front of him, and the husky continued to only torment him with licks as well. Whimpering, he bent forward, raising his ass up, pleading softly. Hot breath washed over his hole, a large muzzle pushing into him harder, licking him, smelling him, and making him squirm.
Realizing he was going to have to get things started, Harry reached forward, running his fingers over the soft, fluffy belly of the golden retriever and rubbing his palm against the hard length swaying there. He groaned as cum splattered onto his arm from the simple touch, the beast huffing and trying to hump his hand from that alone. Fuck, okay, so now to get that behind him. He carefully tugged as he began to jerk the dog off, urging him closer, getting him until he was humping his shoulder. Harry was ready to turn on his knees at this point when the gold colored dog suddenly shifted, boxing his head in, that slick, red tipped cock pushing against his jaw in hard humps.
“Oh fuck… okay… Okay, boy…” Exhaling noisily, Harry wrapped his fingers around the hot flesh, guiding it to his lips. It wasn’t like wolfie, the retriever too eager and completely uncontrolled as it began to fuck his mouth wildly. Harry tried not to choke, his mouth assaulted by hard cock and spurts of cum as claws scratched over his shoulders. The fur was thick, itchy and tickling, and as he coughed, it grew wet against his face from the saliva and cum dripping down his swollen lips.
It was rough, fast, and getting him unbelievably hot. It also seemed to be what the dog behind him needed, because suddenly a new weight pushed down on him, the husky’s forelegs hooking around his waist as it pushed its cock between Harry’s thighs and began to hump. Moaning around the cock slicking so much wet into his mouth, Harry wiggled his hips, trying to get the husky’s cock up into his hole. It wasn’t working, the beast seemingly content to fuck the back of his balls, and Harry groaned in frustration. Fighting with the weight of the two dogs, and the soreness already building in his legs, he reached back, fingers fumbling until he found the dripping, hot dick he was aching to have inside him. It took some positioning, the dog’s hips bucking so forcefully, so wildly, but Harry eventually got him high enough and wedged between his cheeks.
The husky took it from there, Harry gaping nearly silent when those frantic humps began to push that thick cock inside of him. When the swollen head slipped into the first ring of muscles and spurted wet into his hole, Harry came hard, choking on the dick now streaming wave after wave of thick, hot seed into his mouth. Dizzy and light headed, Harry spread his knees wider, helping to provide the needed resistance to drive the husky into his stretched hole. God, he was on his knees in some alley, being fucked by dogs. Two… No, three. Whining, Harry reached his hand out, rubbing his palm up the german shepherd’s smooth belly until he found the hard cock waiting for him. He wrapped his fingers loosely around it, letting it spasm and jerk seed in his hand. Yeah, three.
Harry gave a low moan as the husky began working its swollen knot up against his hole. God, that was big. Very big. Whimpering, he pushed back, struggling to breathe around all the wet and dick in his mouth while the retriever continued to hump his face. God, he needed it. Needed it so bad. If that big knot would just get a little further—Fuck, it would be so good. So perfect. Heaving for air, sweat dripping down his body, Harry pushed back into each hard, bucking thrust, trying to get that big knot in deep.
Just a little more… Oh, fuck… almost… almost…
“For fuck sake, mutt! Are you shitting me? Ten minutes. Ten bloody minutes and you’re…” Harry just whined as cold air hit his face, the golden retriever pulled away, its long dick emptying his mouth and leaving him to stare up at Draco wantonly.
“You couldn’t wait ten fucking minutes?”
Harry groaned, pushing back into the relentless thrusts of the husky still fucking his hole hard. “Wolfie… god… need it…”
Draco gave a long suffering sigh, running a hand through his loose white-blond locks. He knew Harry was a slut, but seriously? Their first date? This was supposed to be romantic and loving, and not full of dog dick. Three dog dicks, at that. He looked around, brows furrowed at the wagging, dripping, four-legged creatures. “Where the hell did these guys come from? Did you… Did you seriously find a goddamn street pack the second you left my sight?”
Harry just gave a gasping cry, his legs spreading wider, head tilting back as the husky’s knot jolted further into his passage. “Yes… god yes… so big… so wet, and big… deeper… need it deeper…”
Draco exhaled noisily, his hand reaching out to run along the underside of Harry’s chin and the fluid clinging there. “Damn it, mutt. Why the fuck do you have to look so good when you’re doing that?”
Harry whined, pressing his head into Draco’s hand while licking his tongue out. “Wolfie… thought this was… my present.”
Yeah, Draco was in love with a total slut. Looking around the alley critically, he cast a notice-me-not spell. He gave a final caress to Harry’s face, then stepped back, letting the german shepherd take his place.
Harry gave a great moan when his sight was blocked again, hot cum splashing on his cheek and forehead as the black dog jumped up, its claws sliding over his back as it began to hump his face. He gasped into the rough thrusts, his mouth wide until the cock was finally, mostly fucking into him and not on. The husky gave a loud huff, and Harry cried out as the big knot slid past the last of his muscles and slammed into him deep. Harry clenched on that thick, meaty knot, his hole tightening, holding it in, keeping it inside as it began to flood him with so much heavy seed.
He moaned around the cock still taking him hard, the slick head popping in and out of his lips, so desperate to get off as it spurted messily that it didn’t care where it hit. The husky’s frantic humps changed in intensity, and Harry was agonizingly aware of each hot spurt of thick cum inside him as the beast ground forward into his body, filling him again and again, claiming him as one of theirs now.
“That’s it, mutt, that’s how you like it.” Kneeling down beside Harry’s whimpering form, Draco slipped something out of his pocket. All Harry could feel was the weight of leather as a choker was wrapped around his neck, cool where metal hit his flesh and clinked. Draco tugged lightly at the dog collar, a wry smile twisting his lips. Harry was definitely his mutt now. He had the dog tag with ‘Mutt’ engraved and everything. Sure the tag was pure gold, but he was pretty sure that detail would be lost on his mate. “Open wider, slut. Make sure you swallow all that cum.”
He ran his hands down Harry’s stomach while the boy groaned around the shepherd’s thrusting cock. The brunette was already dripping in his own seed, Draco rubbing it into his skin while moving lower and wrapping his fingers around Harry’s throbbing cock. He raised a brow when his hand was greeted with something slippery and wet, the golden retriever licking up Harry’s cock again and again. Hell, his mutt really knew how to get just about anything to fuck him.
It was a good hour before Harry was willing to stop, finally sated and shaking as he gave his three new friends quick pats and sent them on their way. Draco just shook his head, sitting on a crate while Harry lounged dripping wet on his jacket in the alley.
“Crap, we didn’t miss the reservations, did we?” Harry asked weakly, his eyes full of apology.
Draco sighed. “No, mutt. We still have a good forty-five minutes.”
Harry nodded, looking at Draco thoughtfully from his upside down angle. “Wolfie, it was…”
“I know, beautiful.” Draco got up, sinking to his knees next to the brunette. “You were amazing. You took them all in, and loved every minute of it. I’m sure you’re going to be the talk of the canine circuit.”
Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was exasperated, his boyfriend usually sporting a haughty expression. But when he met the blond’s eyes, he found only love as Draco pulled his shaking body into his lap. “I really thought it was the present you kept mentioning,” Harry whispered, his lips pressing to Draco’s throat. “Custom made and everything.”
“Yes, well, I could see how you’d get confused like that. Maybe it should have been.” Draco hooked his finger around the stylish dog collar hanging around Harry neck, pulling the boy up into a kiss. The brunette melted into him, whimpering and sighing as Draco kissed him deep and languidly.
“God, wolfie, tell me you liked watching me.” Harry lapped over Draco’s lips. “Tell me you’re not angry that I like dick so much.”
“One more, beautiful,” Draco replied instead, wrapping his arms tight around Harry’s waist and pulling him up his lap.
“Wolfie…”
“No complaints, slut. Get my zipper.” He smirked when Harry made a throaty moan at the order.
“God, okay.” Fingers shaking, Harry reached between the press of their bodies, finding the fly to the dark jeans Draco was wearing. That Draco was going to fuck him outside, not just watch him get fucked, was just too amazing to comprehend, and Harry was getting hot just thinking about it. When he pulled out Draco’s dick, he could only gape in amazement.
“Wolfie… holy fuck.”
“You like it?” Draco smiled against Harry’s sticky, flushed cheek. “I’ve been practicing my transformation. It took a lot of training but I thought it might be appreciated.”
Harry just nodded dumbly, his eyes growing wider as he slid his fingers down Draco’s long length and caressed over the knot now swollen at the base. “Oh fuck.” Cum sprinkled out the moment his fingers touched the knot, and he knew it was very much the best fucking present Draco could ever give him.
“I thought you said my gift was not your dick?” Harry teased.
“You want to ride it?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer. He could hand Harry a broom and he’d want to ride it. He pulled Harry’s knees up, wrapping them around his waist. He then lifted the boy easily, pushing the head of his cock against the brunette’s dripping hole.
“God, wolfie, yes,” Harry groaned, clinging to Draco’s shoulders and burying his face into the blond’s neck. He panted heavily, releasing weak cries as Draco carefully stretched his already tight hole with his thick cockhead. It was always intense when the blond took him this way, forcing him to feel every inch of his dick like it was the first time. And this time Draco had a lot more wet to slick him with, his cum spurting every time he pushed against Harry’s tightness, working into his hole over and over while Harry sobbed from the agonizing feel of so much thick cock, and anticipation of even thicker knot.
Fuck, they were doing it in some little alleyway, Harry naked except for his bracelets and new collar just after being gangbanged by dogs. This was definitely Harry’s idea of the best first date ever. He really did have the most amazing mate a boy could ask for.
“God… oh god… get deeper,” Harry pleaded, grasping at Draco’s shoulders frantically, his mouth nipping and licking everywhere he could reach. Draco was going so slow, teasing the head of his cock into him, just to pull back out, forcing his entrance to open and stretch, and then close while clinging desperate to the hot, slick flesh. Harry was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind if Draco didn’t just fuck him properly.
“No complaints,” Draco reminded with a growl, pulling Harry hard by the hair so he could bite roughly into the flesh of his throat. “You’re going to sit here and take it how I want to give it, Potter.”
Moaning, Harry could only smile lazily, his head lolling back. Draco continued to taunt him, his cock jolting in and out of his entrance, getting faster and even less coordinated with each thrust. Harry clenched hard each time, hoping to convince Draco to fuck him deeper. Then suddenly Draco was pushing into him without warning, holding him hard by the hips as he forced his way into Harry’s tight flesh.
“Draco—fuck. Oh fuck!”
“Shh, mutt… Fuck, you’re tight.” Grunting, Draco pushed Harry back enough so he could thrust into the brunette with hard, slamming jolts. Clutching weakly to Draco’s neck and shoulders, Harry sobbed each time Draco drove into him, grinding that thick knot up against the edges of his hole every time. “That’s it… god… fuck, Harry. Fuck.”
The world tilted and Harry ended up flat on his back, his legs wrapped tight around Draco’s waist as the blond fucked him into the pavement. “Please… please, Draco…” He bit out, only to cry as Draco slammed into him again.
“You want it, mutt? You want my knot?” Draco asked hoarsely, Harry whimpering and nodding frantically in reply. “Earn it, Harry. Make me give it to you.”
“Oh god.” The world spinning, Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Draco’s breath was so hot against his ear, the feel of his thick cock gliding wet and rough in and out of his hole driving him crazy. He wanted it so bad. Wanted to feel that big knot driving into him, stretching him wide, making him Draco’s.
Wetting his lips, Harry forced his shaking arm to move. He ran his hand down Draco’s back, finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, then going lower until he was cupping Draco’s ass above his loose jeans. The blond gave a warning growl in his ear when Harry brushed fingers deep into Draco’s crack. Undeterred, Harry sought out the boy’s pucker, pushing two fingers against his hot hole. Groaning, Draco ground forward, wedging his knot harder into Harry’s clenching flesh while Harry began to work his fingers into his entrance.
“Fuck, Draco… fuck, don’t stop,” Harry gasped out, bucking his hips when Draco continued to push forward while stilling his rocking movements. Teeth nipping sharply at Harry’s skin, Draco gave him another warning growl Harry also ignored, the brunette pushing his fingers deeper into the blond.
“Harry—hell,” Draco moaned as Harry’s fingers scissored open wide, stretching him. Draco jolted forward from the feel, burying his knot into the tight muscles of Harry’s opening, the brunette choking back a desperate cry. “Fuck, Harry… I’m going to…”
Grinning wickedly, Harry found Draco’s prostate, pressing the spongy flesh firmly. Howling, Draco surged forward, slamming into Harry’s spasming body, his knot forcing past the brunette’s entrance as he began to spurt load after load of hot seed into the moaning boy. Holding Harry’s hips brutally tight, Draco ground into him hard, not letting up as he fucked him with shallow, jerking thrusts that Harry sobbed and cried through.
Clenching that thick, perfect flesh buried deep inside him, Harry arched under Draco, clutching to the boy while he rode out his long orgasm. Draco continued to fill him, his bucking hips slowing, his transformed cock seemingly just as full of cum as the wolf’s version.
“God, wolfie… fuck, it’s so good.” Harry pushed Draco’s long silky hair back, seeking out the boy’s face. Silver eyes hazy and full of more than a little wonder, Draco stared down at him with swollen lips. “You’re so big inside me. Perfect… No one else is ever going to be like this in me.” Harry wet his lips, raising his head up to kiss Draco softly. “You’re my mate, and this is how you fuck me, Draco.”
“Damn it, Harry.” Groaning, Draco crushed his lips to the brunette’s, forcing him down by his weight and need to have Harry be his. He was, he knew he was, but every time Draco touched the boy it was like his body just needed to reconfirm it again and again. Opening to him, Harry let Draco plunder his mouth, tasting and owning every inch he touched. As they kissed, Draco continued to grind into the boy’s passage, making sure every drop of cum he had was inside his mate. Marking him. Claiming him. It didn’t matter who or what fucked Harry, just as long as Harry always came back to him.
As long as Harry looked at Draco with those glowing, adoring eyes, deranged smirk, and the slightest of blushes on his cheeks, Draco would always be happy.
The restaurant Draco had made reservations for wasn’t as bad as Harry had feared. Being a boy, Harry really didn’t understand the idea of romance. Well, being a boy that was also a pack bitch. Draco seemed to have a lot of understanding of romance, but Harry just didn’t know how to deal with it. He did like good tasting food though. And the music wasn’t bad, some sort of soft rock from the live band playing. The place was more causal and elegant than pink hearts and vomit. And having Draco sitting across from him in the dim lighting, looking hunky with a thoroughly shagged look on his face, his hair just slightly mussed and clothes rumpled, was definitely reason enough to be there.
They talked about quidditch for a while, Harry arguing vehemently that Draco was completely wrong about the up and coming Krum. Then it turned to some shit about Draco’s terrible taste in music that Harry apparently matched with some new indie bands that Draco was certain were hiding evil messages in the lyrics. Then Harry tried to get into his mate’s lap, which Draco was very stern about, even though he did give him a deep kiss for his attempts.
“Do not get lost,” Draco repeated when Harry just gave him an innocent grin and left to go to the bathroom. He was pretty sure the boy had been fucked out for the day. That said, Draco couldn’t trust that if Harry ran into a dog on the way from point A to point B that he wouldn’t end up on all fours again. Hell, there was no way in fuck they could live in the suburbs or some shit. Every dog in the neighborhood would be barking at their door, day and night for his slutty mate.
Musing to himself, Draco let his eyes roam the restaurant. The lighting was low, the other patrons illuminated by soft candlelight. He didn’t recognize anyone from the castle but it did get him thinking about just how the fuck he was going to deal with his parents. It was an eventuality he had been prepared to face, he just really didn’t know what to expect.
Definitely a confrontation of some sort. His father had people everywhere, and no doubt in Hogsmeade as well. The news would get to Lucius’s ear. Then it would lead to some sort of ‘what the fuck are you up to, son?’ moment. And then, well, who really knew. Draco couldn’t align himself with his parents, not as long as they chose Voldemort and Voldemort insisted on killing Harry. So depending on how his father decided to deal with a traitor son would likely decide Draco’s next actions.
He had started squirrelling some money away. Nothing massive, just enough to ensure he’d be good till the end of his schooling. There was always the possibility that his father would blacklist him from finding work in the wizarding world. Fuck, he might become just as ostracized as his werewolf alpha. It demanded some planning he hadn’t really given. Allies would be essential in the upcoming years if he had to go up against his father’s influence. Aligning with Harry automatically made Draco a target for every Death Eater, and gained him the most idiotic and reckless of allies. Maybe it was time to start identifying who those allies were and see how they could help his future.
He was broken from his thoughts when Harry suddenly came bounding back, the boy grinning ear to ear. It took Draco a moment, very much fixated on just how sexy Harry looked when he smiled at him. But then he noticed his mate had his fingers wrapped around the collar Draco had gotten for him, and he couldn’t help but smile smugly back. Of course Harry would like it. He could bitch all he liked about not wanting gifts, but Draco knew what the boy liked.
“It’s gorgeous.” Harry ducked down so he could kiss Draco’s cheek. When he went to pull away, Draco grabbed him by the collar, holding him still and kissing him properly. Harry gave a throaty moan, whimpering from the hard touch, and then whining when Draco gently shoved him away. “Damn it—you know what that does to me,” he grumbled, sitting in his chair heavily while staring with flushed cheeks at Draco.
Draco did know, able to smell just how hard Harry was getting from one fine kiss. “You look good in it. Black leather and white gold. My wild mutt.”
Harry beamed again, his lips curling on the demented side as his eyes travelled over Draco hungrily. “If I got you a collar, you think you’d wear it?”
Draco shrugged. “Maybe if I was able to pick it out. No offense, but you have shit taste.”
Harry was not offended, knowing damn well. But then again, he had great taste when it came to boys, having fallen for Draco damn crazy hard, so he couldn’t be that bad off. “What if I tried to get you in leather once in a while?”
“That might take some convincing.” Draco pushed the little dessert menu across the table, raising his brow expectantly.
Harry was genuinely enjoying himself, and not in a rush to leave. He pointed to something gooey and chocolate, and flashed Draco a wicked grin. “I think I might enjoy convincing you. Drugged you last time, and fuck, that was just the hottest thing ever.”
Glaring at him warningly, Draco called the waiter over, placing his order and trying to ignore how the young man kept checking his boyfriend out. Harry’s charms were not restricted to canines, especially when under his thick messy hair hid his very famous scar. Draco wasn’t too worried, seeing as Harry’s foot was currently trying to wrap around his leg.
“Come to the bathroom with me. They have really amazing ceilings in there you should see,” Harry whispered enticingly.
Fighting back a smirk, Draco just sipped his drink. “I thought you were still trying to convince me into leather?”
“Ah, in leather, out of clothes; it’s all good.”
It was, but Draco wasn’t about to fuck the boy in the very expensive restaurant’s bathroom.
Well, not until he dealt with the check first.
Keeping his expression blank, Draco sat back, listening as Harry started on about soccer and how he wanted to teach him to play. It was a damn fine night, and Draco loved to hear Harry laugh.
A little place to share your comments and questions on the fanfic, Sleeping Dogs. Liked it, hated it, interested in seeing a sequel or something similar? Let me know below. I love the feedback.
The Complete Serial
$4.99
This book contains all five episodes of Bullying Teacher previously published by Sadie Sins and bonus material never before read, totaling in over 60,000 words of content.
Beau Ashford has again found himself the victim of bullying. Surprising, considering he’s an established teacher now. His pretty face and weak demeanor have made him the target of every aggressive eye that’s turned his way, this time his own students.
Darien Castello—strong, confident and son of a billionaire senator—is willing to protect his pretty teach, but for a price. Either he gets paid $500 a week for his protection services, or he’s going to help make Beau regret starting his science position in the wealthy university. If Beau can’t afford it all, Darien is happy to take it out in trade. $450 worth of his teacher’s body.
What starts as a bizarre protection scam quickly spirals into something else as Darien awakens dark, confusing desires in his once innocent, straight teacher. Can Beau find a way to free himself from the strange obsession taking him, or will he be bullied into something that could lose him his job and life as he knows it?
18+ This completed serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and an exploration of bdsm and a master/slave relationship through the eyes of a controlling top and needy bottom. Expect spanking, bondage, multiple partners and exhibitionism in a school setting.
60,000 wrds, Published May 27, 2016.
Heat level: XXX
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.
***
This was not the first time Beau Ashford had been bullied. Hell, it seemed to be a constant in his life, starting as far back as preschool when the other kids figured out that his first name meant beautiful. That his face happened to match his name hadn’t helped matters. Beau had thought once he became a teacher and was seen as an authoritative figure, things would change.
They had not. At 35, Beau was still dealing with the idiots of the world that would judge him on something as superficial as his face and appearance.
He had left his last teaching assignment when a group of punks had gone so far as to burn his car. He hadn’t been inside it at the time, but it had been enough for him. Maybe he should have just given up on the whole teaching thing after that, but he was ridiculously stubborn to a fault and still young into his career. He was determined to help these young, troubled kids get a real future for themselves. Just, preferably, without getting his ass kicked at the same time.
That said, he had never had to deal with someone like Darien Castello.
He only knew Darien by name. The young man had yet to show up to a single class even though Beau had been teaching for over two weeks now at the prestigious private university. He wasn’t sure just how Darien was able to get away with not attending class, but he suspected it had a lot to do with who his father was. Reginald Castello was a senator. Beau had learned of the fact when he had sent in his attendance sheets and asked if he should be filing a formal reprimand with the office for Castello’s absence. He had been told to ignore it.
There was something terribly ironic about a rich brat demanding four-fifths of his income in the name of protection from punks just like him. Hell, at his last school Beau had only had to deal with a beating. He had learned enough to stop carrying cash with him there. For some reason, he’d assumed the richer students would be better behaved. Apparently, he’d been fooling himself.
A protection scam. He had to hand it to the little bastard—fine, huge mountain of a bastard—the guy was ambitious. At twenty-two, Beau sure hadn’t been thinking about blackmailing his teachers, and he sure could have used the money a lot more. As for Darien’s other threat… trading services… He was pretty sure the student had just been trying to freak him out.
Beau wasn’t into guys even though a few through the years had taken one look at his pretty face and slim form and assumed he was. Just because he didn’t date much–well, at all–didn’t mean he was into guys. He just wasn’t that sexual a person. He was too busy working and trying not to get his ass kicked.
He had tried to bulk up. He exercised every day, lifted weights—He wasn’t as weak as he looked. But even if he had muscle, it was compact, and he didn’t intimidate anyone. Not when they kept looking at his face. He just wasn’t a fighter. And normally he wouldn’t think that was a problem. But he really, really, really didn’t want to give up on his life’s dream because every damn punk thought he could be manipulated just by beating him.
Shit, but he hated his face. If he had been born a girl, it would have been an asset. As a guy, it was just a huge target for every aggressive asshole to treat him like shit. He had never had a bad thing to say about how anyone looked. Why the hell did he have to be judged by something so beyond his control?
It was Friday. Beau had been trying to ignore that fact for the entire day, but when the last bell rang it grew very difficult.
He didn’t have the money. Even if he did, he wasn’t going to let some cocky, rich punk steal his hard-earned yet pitiful salary. He had taken a beaten before, and he was likely going to take plenty in the future. Just another shit day having to deal with being born beautiful, brilliant, and also a guy.
Darien didn’t keep him waiting. Beau was just filing the rest of his paperwork away for the week when he walked in dressed in jeans and a tight, sleeveless t-shirt. He had a feeling it was to intimidate. Darien’s tanned, tattooed arms were ripped, shoulders broad, chest sculpted above rippling abs. It really wasn’t fair; Beau would have killed for a body like that. It didn’t matter how much he worked out; he just couldn’t get buff. He almost wanted to ask the guy what his secret was, but figured now was not the time.
“Hey, teach. How’s your week been?” Darien strolled up while pulling a cigarette from behind his ear, his dark hair cut short except his bangs that were spiky and streaked with red dye. With his sharp green eyes and thick dark lashes, Beau had to wonder why he was wasting his time tormenting his teacher when he could be off chasing cheerleaders or something. That’s what those jock types did, right? Got drunk in the parking lot and screwed the chicks that couldn’t stop talking for even five minutes. Beau couldn’t stand cheerleaders; the bitches made fun of him more than the jocks, like he was their competition or something.
“Hello, Mr. Castello. I do believe this is the first time you’ve been in my classroom. Unfortunately, you’re hours late.” Refusing to comment on the cigarette being lit when there were nearly a hundred no smoking signs in the building, he turned and began wiping down the whiteboard.
“Sorry, but science bores the fuck out of me.” Darien didn’t sound sorry. His eyes followed Mr. Ashford’s ass as the teacher obliviously reached and stretched to wipe the top of the tall board. “I was wondering if anyone’s bothered you since our last talk.”
“The one where you threatened to beat me up if I failed to pay you protection money?” Beau snapped bitterly and wiped the last of his writing away furiously. “No, surprisingly no one has bothered me since then. You must be quite terrifying.” He slammed the eraser down on his desk and turning back.
“You seem upset,” Darien observed blandly, his gaze calm and steady as he met his teacher’s blazing eyes.
“I’m not paying you anything.”
“Oh?” Exhaling slowly, Darien took another drag of his cigarette. “Were you under the impression that I wouldn’t beat the crap out of you? I thought I was very clear on that.”
Pursing his lips, Beau jutted his chin out stubbornly. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just go extorting your teachers. It’s illegal, for one. Damn rude, too. You’re not even out of college, and you’re already on the way to being a career criminal. If I had my way, you’d be—”
“Right, so I didn’t really come here for a lecture, Mr. Ashford,” Darien interrupted smoothly. “You owe me 200 bucks, and I’d much prefer that to you nattering on like a whiny bitch.”
Snapping his mouth shut, Beau fumed. Darien stood taller, flexing his shoulders and looking even bigger. It was hard not to notice, and he swallowed hard as Darien took a step around his desk. “I don’t have that kind of money. I’m a teacher. We don’t get paid much for the privilege of teaching the next generation of extortionists. I have bills. Rent. I enjoy actually eating once in a while. Next time you try this game, I suggest you consider the income your victim can provide before asking for such a ludicrous amount.”
His eyebrows raising in surprise, Darien flashed a small smirk. “I’ll take that into advisement, teach.” He took another step and Beau turned his head away when Darien pushed into his personal space, their chests nearly brushing. “So what can you afford?”
Beau had actually thought of this. He didn’t know why; it wasn’t like he could give in to this sort of thing. If one student started this crap, the rest would surely follow. But not only was Darien Castello damn intimidating, but he also had a senator for a father. Beau knew there would be no help for him after learning that fun fact.
“Fifty. It barely leaves me enough for gas to get to school every morning,” he muttered. He glancing at Darien, only to quickly look away when he found him staring at his mouth.
“Fifty? That’s a very different number than what I’m asking for,” Darien pointed out with a sigh. “But I’d be willing to consider it.”
Beau wasn’t expecting that, and he met his student’s gaze hesitantly. “Really?” If it only took fifty bucks a week to keep this bastard from giving him shit, along with the rest of the damn punks in the school, he might take him up on his offer.
When Darien had first shown up the other day and saved him from those assholes, Beau had thought him a godsend. Nearly a black knight coming to his rescue. Strong and intimidating, the other students had feared Darien. And well, no one had ever stood up for him before. Beau had honestly been grateful until he had tried to extort him.
“I’m not unreasonable, Mr. Ashford. I know not everyone is rolling in dough. So what are you going to give me to make up for the other $450 you can’t afford?”
Ice chilled his veins, and Beau bit his lip. Right. Of course. God, kids were monsters these days. “I think you seem to misunderstand just how little I have,” he said coldly. “I have no assets. I don’t own my apartment or car. I live paycheck to paycheck.”
“No, I got that.” Darien crushed his lit cigarette into the palm of his hand and then flicked it into the waste bin. “I was thinking more of services. Teaching is a service, isn’t it? You use your expertise to help others learn a topic?”
“I… I guess you could say that,” Beau answered hesitantly. “Did you want me to tutor you?”
Darien chuckled darkly. Beau had only a moment to realize he’d definitely misread the situation when fingers wrapped around his chin and pulled him forward, lips suddenly an inch from his own. “Mr. Ashford, how much would $450 get me with a guy like you?”
“W-What?” Trying to fight the way his face was heating up, Beau took a step back, only to have his back press up against the whiteboard.
“Let’s say I took you out on a date.” Darien’s free hand came up to lean against the wall and block his teacher’s escape on one side. “Someplace nice. Someplace where I could throw down $500. I’d get something back for that, right? I mean, it’s just expected, really.”
Beau didn’t know what was more offensive; that Darien thought that dating automatically meant you were buying affection, or that he just assumed he was the type to exchange money for sex.
“Mr. Castello, you seem to be confused. I’m not interested in men, and most certainly not my student who is also trying to extort me. And to answer your question, you should not expect anything back. A date is not buying sex. It is not expected, at least, not where I’m from. The very notion is offensive and—”
“Heh, you’re really cute when you’re angry.” Darien’s eyes ran down Beau’s form, and the teacher trailed off warily. “Teach, when you throw down $500 on a guy, you expect him to put out. It’s just natural.”
Beau was starting to get very nervous under that hungry stare. Yes, he’d had a few men try to pick him up before, but none of them had put much effort into it. They’d all been shy, intimidated by his beauty. Darien wasn’t like that at all. No, he didn’t seem very interested in how Beau felt about him or the situation, just so long as he got what he wanted. It made something clench inside Beau, made him hot, dizzy, and flustered.
“Mr. Castello, what you’re suggesting is highly inappropriate, never mind illegal. Immoral,” Beau managed to get out as he edged away from his towering student.
Darien shrugged unconcernedly and slammed his other hand down so that Beau was trapped between his muscular arms. He dipped his head closer, nose pressed to the side of Beau’s, lips just brushing. “I really don’t care, teach. I want to fuck you. Hard, rough, until you’re screaming my name.”
Blinking, heat rising to his cheeks, Beau tried to turn his head away. Darien followed and kept the same uncomfortable closeness. “I’m not into men,” he said, hating how shaky his voice sounded. Darien was nearly on top of him, heat roiling off his tall form, his breath even hotter as it puffed on his cheek.
This was very new for Beau. He’d had plenty of men threaten to hurt him. None of them had seemed into doing it while also wanting to fuck him.
“I told you; I don’t care.” Eyes moving over Beau’s face for a searching moment, Darien flicked his tongue out and traced his teacher’s upper lip.
Beau froze, breath hitched, eyes wide from the hot, wet touch. Something shuddered through him he didn’t want to identify. It only grew stronger when that tongue moved down, lapped his mouth, and teased slowly against the seam of his lips. “S-Stop,” he whispered. A groan tore from him when Darien’s large hand cupped his jaw roughly and held him in place so he could press their lips together.
It was hard, hungry, and like no kiss Beau had ever experienced before. Darien wrapped his fingers into his long hair, pulled demandingly, forced his head back and lips open. Tongue shoving deep into his mouth, he used his larger body to pin Beau tight against the wall, and grind his hips against his trapped body.
“Oh, hell,” Beau gasped into the kiss. Another groan escaped when he felt what could only be Darien’s hard cock rub against his hip. It was big, so hot and demanding, and for the first time, Beau allowed himself to wonder just what it would feel like to touch another man’s dick.
He shouldn’t. He really wasn’t like that…
Grunting, Darien pulled Beau’s hair harder and forced the whimpering man to bend his neck back in his strong hold. He crushed their lips together again, plunged his tongue against Beau’s, exploring his mouth heatedly while suffocating the lithe man. He rubbed unceasingly over his tongue, stealing his breath, grinding against him so hard, so hot, Beau’s knees started to waver and he slid down the wall with a moan.
“That’s it, teach.” Darien wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him back up, then higher. He crushed Beau back against the board on tiptoes and sucked and nipped down his long, pale throat. “Fuck, you’re one tight piece of ass.” He pushed his knee between Beau’s slim thighs, groaning when he found a responding hardness pushing against his leg. “Yeah, that’s fucking it.”
Darien’s leg pushed him further up the wall. Beau could only gasp for air, his eyes half closed, moans escaping him with every grind of the strong thigh against his rock hard cock.
Fuck, what was happening to him? He shouldn’t… shouldn’t like this. Not with a man. Not with a stupid, arrogant punk that thought he could just bully him into anything.
Beau raised his arms, meaning to push Darien away, to show that even if his body was responding, it didn’t mean he wanted it. But once his fingers found his student’s hard biceps, he could only grasp onto them weakly and feel the powerful, hot flesh beneath his palms as his ass was grabbed and squeezed hard.
“God… Oh, god,” Beau moaned dizzily, and his head fell back against the wall. Darien gave a final nip to the side of his neck and moved back up to claim his mouth forcefully. Beau didn’t resist. His lips parted readily and body arched into the strong one moving against him, holding him close, pushing him down against the wall.
“W-Wait,” he whispered shakily but Darien swallowed his protest the moment it was free. His student’s large hand continued to work on his belt, quickly pulling the buckle open and tearing the button and fly to his slacks down. Blushing crimson, Beau moaned, his voice cracking when Darien boldly reached into his underwear and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock.
“Mr. Ashford, I think you might be interested after all,” Darien whispered against his lips, his grip tightening as he held Beau’s dick in the palm of his hand and felt it pulse with every gasping breath his teacher took.
Forcing his eyes open, Beau found Darien staring down at him, green eyes blazing fire and sex. He wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him to get the fuck off and never touch him again. Instead his hips jolted forward, his body pushing against his student’s hard muscles as another moan escaped him.
“That’s it. Fuck, you look damn slutty with your dick in my hand.” Darien gave Beau’s shaft a single stroke, then withdrew his hand reluctantly. “I’m going to give you a week, teach. A week to decide if you want to give me the proper fee for my protection. Or if you want to spread those fucking tight cheeks of yours and let me fuck you.”
His head spun as Beau tried to figure out where the hot hand had gone and soon after the hard, suffocating body. He slid down the wall without Darien to hold him upright and looked around blearily. Heavy pants fell from Beau’s parted lips, his head thrown back. He found Darien watching him from his large desk while lighting up another cigarette.
Once Darien’s eyes met his, Beau couldn’t look away. He wet his lips and struggled for air, half hating that his body wanted him to come back, to finish what he had started. He was aching. Beau had never ached like this before. It was maddening, confusing, and he needed release.
His breath caught when Darien slowly stepped back in his direction, the other’s gaze roaming over him like a predator sizing up a kill. He stopped inches away, Beau hyper aware of his student’s towering height, strength, the way Darien’s erection was bulging above his head.
Eyes locked with his, Darien pressed two of his fingers to Beau’s lips and pushed the long digits into his teacher’s mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, Beau groaned as his lips spread, his face hot with embarassment and arousal. He felt every push and pull as Darien began to fuck his mouth with his thick fingers in rough thrusts, dragging over his tongue, pressing deep down his throat, using his mouth however he pleased. Darien hooked his digits into his cheek, pulled hard enough for Beau to turn his head, then pulled him back to face him again.
“Pick the second option, teach. I have a strong feeling you’re going to like riding my cock.” Darien’s thumb squeezed his lower lip and tugged. He pulled his fingers from between Beau’s swollen lips and drew a line of saliva down his chin and long, pale throat. “Even if you don’t like it, you’re going to look so fucking hot with a dick up your ass that it’ll make up for it.”
Groaning when Darien’s hand wrapped possessively around his neck, Beau didn’t answer. He just stared up into his heated gaze as his head was forced back, lost in those burning green eyes.
“I have a previous engagement, teach. Otherwise, I’d stay and listen to how loud you scream when you come.” Darien’s gaze dropped to his glistening lips. “Yeah, you’re definitely a screamer. Maybe even a crier, which is just sexy as fuck. Make sure you’re thinking of me when you jerk off.” He released Beau’s neck with a dark smile, stepped back and headed for the door.
His eyes closed as Darien shut the door behind him and Beau let out a low, desperate moan.
Fuck… Holy fuck.
He was only twenty-two. His student. His extortionist, assholic student. He couldn’t.
God, he really, really couldn’t.
So why the fuck was he thinking about it?
A whimper escaping him, Beau hesitantly ran his hand up his hip, fingers pushed slowly under the band of his underwear.
Don’t… Anyone could walk in. He was in school. In a classroom in his damn school. Don’t think of him…
But he couldn’t stop. It was all he could think about; Darien’s strong hands, those damn muscles he had thought he wanted for himself but now he was pretty sure he just wanted to move against him, that fucking tongue of his, so demanding, so forceful and possessive.
He couldn’t. A senator’s son. His student. It would be a huge scandal—Fucking his gay student. God, he wanted to. So bad. He’d never wanted anything like this.
Licking his palm, Beau wrapped it around his dick. He bit his lip to stop his groans as he began to stroke firmly. No one had ever touched him that way before. He threw his head back, gasping, mouth tingling still from the feel of Darien’s rough kisses and rougher fingers. God, he could nearly feel it, the hard heat of his tongue, the cruel grip holding his hair, his strong body forcing him back, suffocating him and taking everything he wanted from him as if it were his right.
His gliding hand began to lose rhythm. Beau panted desperately, head rolling back and forth on the wall as he rocked his hips up. He came with a muffled shout, free hand clamped over his mouth as Darien’s eyes flashed in his mind.
Fuck.
Oh fuck, he was in trouble here.
Looking down slowly, Beau stared at the pearly white cum stringing over his fingers. He hesitantly raised his hand up and tentatively tasted his seed.
Would Darien’s cum taste the same?
Eyes closing at the realization of what he was about to do, Beau pushed two fingers into his mouth with a husky moan. He imitated what Darien had done to him only minutes ago, except this time with cum coating his fingers and dripping tangy into his mouth. It was the blowjob he had imagined when his student had forced his fingers boldly into his mouth and made him suck.
Fuck, he was in serious trouble.
Forced To Be Their Sister
Exclusive Library
Rob has had enough of his older brothers teasing him. Just because his mother insisted he was her honorary girl when she was done raising sons didn’t mean he was an actual girl! He’s sick of being treated like a chick and he’s looking for vengeance.
Rob’s three older brother’s are sick of their little brother acting like an angry, spoiled brat. When Rob crosses the lines with another one of his childish pranks, they decide it’s time to teach their little sister a lesson in being a girl the only way three muscular, controlling guys know how.
This story is 17,000+ words long. It contains graphic language, sexually explicit content between brothers, a great corset and leather boots, spanking, and mild humiliation mixed with some tears. 18+ Only
17,000+ wrds, Published June 11, 2016.
Heat level: XX
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.
HEAT: Abducted To Be His Mate
Exclusive Library
Ryan Moss is a werewolf long separated from his pack. He has no idea how dangerous his heat is until he finds himself stalking down the closest available bachelor. Unfortunately for Ryan, his wolf finds Shane Cooper, the gay bashing, angry, rich punk that’s been tormenting him for the last ten years.
Even though Ryan hates Shane, his wolf won’t be denied. Against all sanity, he bites the blond and drags him home to mate.
Bound and trapped in Ryan’s basement, Shane plots his escape. He has no interest in being anyone’s mate, especially to his long time rival. If only his body would stop betraying him, seeking out first touch and then pain, things Ryan knows how to gift just right.
Ryan discovers that underneath his lust and resentment, he might just love his angry mate. But after what he’s done, can Shane ever forgive him enough to see him as worthy?
This short story of over 23,000 words contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and themes of bondage, discipline, and some humiliation. Although featuring mating/breeding with werewolf anatomy that knots and ties, there is no mpreg.
23,000+ wrds, Published June 3, 2016.
Heat level: XXX
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.
The Chains That Bind
$0.00
Episode #7. An impossible choice…
Liem betrays Ky after he’s welcomed into his home, and its revealed Brave was brutalized as punishment for his failure of the night before. The difficult reality of sorcery hits Ky; defense is not enough when up against someone with magic.
Ky knows Brave is in danger while in the hands of a childish sociopath like Liem, but he can’t cross the line only days ago he never would have considered. Murder is wrong, but so is allowing Liem to kill Brave.
Ky can’t ask his demons to kill, and he doesn’t have the power to fight Liem on his own. His hesitation could be just as damning as reckless action, but it’s Brave’s life that will be lost if Ky makes the wrong choice.
Each episode in this sexy, suspenseful gay monster harem serial is over 10,000 words, and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
12,000+ wrds, First Published May 1, 2016.
Heat level: X
Ky’s heart raced as he surged forward. He was terrified Liem would magic Magnificent Night away in an instant. When he slammed into Liem’s petite form with all intentions of beating the crap out of him, it took him too long to see the coil of black whip up. Liem might have gotten a collar around Magnificent’s neck, but the demon wrapped his tail around Liem’s just as quickly.
“Magnificent.” Ky froze and stared with wide, silver eyes as Magnificent lifted Liem off the chair with his tail and held him tight by the neck. Lovely appeared next to Ky, and behind him he heard Feral on the stairs blocking escape. The room grew dark at the edges the longer Ky stared. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Liem’s red face as it quickly turned purple, the teen’s expression twisted in terror and pain.
This was his fault; Ky knew it. If Magnificent killed Liem, it was his fault. Ky failed to protect the requiem; he failed to keep a monster like Liem away from the three Relics in his care. If Magnificent killed the awful apprentice, Ky wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself. He let Liem in the house. He ignored every fucking intelligent reason to turn him away and because of it, Magnificent was forced to defend his life.
“Magnificent, please.” Ky walked past Liem, who was clawing at the tail wrapped like a coil of black rope around his neck. Magnificent Night’s eyes glowed power while he glared into Liem’s frightened face and raised him higher. Liem’s legs flailed in the air while choked gasps escaped his lips. His whimpers silenced when Magnificent gripped tighter. Ky didn’t know what he felt at the idea of Liem dying. He did know what was right and what was wrong; this was wrong.
“Magnificent, I’m going to take him away. Right now. Just let him go, and I’ll take him out of the house and never let him in again.”
Ky waited the longest minute of his life. Did he truly know Magnificent Night? Ky couldn’t speak his language; they came from two completely different worlds. All Ky really knew about Magnificent was Anselm captured him, and when he died the overseer Demencious chained him. For years, Magnificent was trapped in this basement while other Relics were murdered and eaten in front of him. It would be easy for him to be a monster after such a life, maybe even expected. Demons were powerful and killing came easy for them. Chained and weakened, Magnificent was still far stronger than Liem. The apprentice was a frail, helpless child compared to a Requiem.
“Please, Magnificent,” Ky whispered beseechingly. He reached his hand out to caress the demon’s grim expression. He should have been afraid; Ky knew he was an absolute idiot when it came to the Relics. Still, he had to try. He couldn’t bear if his fuck up led to Magnificent having to take a life. “You don’t need to kill anyone. I’m so sorry I made you feel like you needed to. Please, let me fix this.”
The furious glow in Magnificent’s eyes faded as his gaze moved to Ky’s upturned face. Ky sighed in relief when the demon uncoiled his tail from around Liem’s neck. Liem fell to the ground and collapsed, gasping for air.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Ky’s voice cracked with the flood of emotion moving through him. He tore the collar from Magnificent’s neck and flung it across the room. He wasn’t sure where to direct his rage; Liem who came into his house and tried to capture Magnificent Night like he was a bug in a jar, or himself, who was so dumb he trusted the awful teen enough to let him in the house in the first place. God, he was fucking it all up. He just met his first sorcerer apprentice and nearly let the asshole die.
Although, given how Liem tried to kill him just last night, Ky wasn’t about to spill any tears over it.
“Ky!” Lovely hissed. Ky whirled from Magnificent to discover Brave. The wolf demon appeared in the basement when summoned by the fallen Liem. Brave growled and hovered protectively over his young master as he pulled him across the room away from danger. The two demons glared at each other warily, Lovely a bristling white glow of long, silvery hair, cat ears and claws while Brave was hulking, scarred muscle and dark whirl of hair. Brave snarled and snapped razor teeth when Lovely stepped menacingly toward him.
“Stop,” Ky ordered roughly. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to anymore; he just wanted it all to fucking stop. Brave was injured; blood crusted his handsome face, and the flesh beneath his collar was raw, red, and oozing yellow fluid that dripped over the fresh bruises and cuts on his body. It was his punishment for being linked to Ky; there could be no other reason.
Ky’s stomach plummeted as he remembered his conversation with Lovely about the link. Nausea was a hot wave that threatened to overwhelm him. Liem punished Brave for something he hadn’t even done. Ky created the link with his will, not Brave. His ignorance and inability to control his magic directly led to Brave being harmed.
Liem unsteadily pushed up on his knees. His eyes shined bitter tears as he pointed accusingly at Ky. “Fido, kill! Now!”
Lovely hissed warningly, but it was Feral’s growl, loud and full of death, that froze everyone in the room. The bronze-skinned coyote demon slinked from the shadows. With deliberate steps he crossed the room and took an aggressive stance in Ky’s defense.
Liem gaped up at the new black feathered demon. Hatred twisted his features as he whirled back to Ky. “Three? You have three fucking archons? Two of the things aren’t even collared, and they just answer to you!”
“They’re not things,” Ky replied hollowly. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood on Brave’s face. The wolf demon’s ear was torn, not from a blade but from something dull. A piercing pulled from his flesh. This morning, Liem rang his doorbell and pretended to apologize while only minutes before he brutalized and tortured this poor Relic. How could he have ever been so blind?
Liem scrambled to his feet. He held his palm upright, and a wand immediately appeared within his grasp. “Fuck. Three winged demons belong to that weak, stupid, demon loving freak! Fido, I said kill the stupid fuck! And so help me, if you fail this time, you better fucking die because I’m going to make you wish it!”
Brave didn’t move. His lips pursed in a thin line as he met Liem’s furious glare with one of cold indifference. Lovely went to stand between Ky and the wolf demon, but Ky stopped him.
“Brave’s not going to hurt me. He doesn’t want to hurt me, so he won’t.” Brave’s intentions radiated through the black link on his collar. His connection to Ky wasn’t as deep as Lovely’s, but they were still linked. Brave didn’t want to hurt him, and Ky could feel it.
“Fucking, son of a… His name is Fido! Fido!” Liem gritted out. “He’s mine, not yours, you fucking weirdo, and he has to do what I say!” Liem’s breath was heavy with rage as he shot a burst of magic at Brave. The wolf demon yelped and fell backward from the blow. “Now fucking listen to me!”
The room pulsed red around Ky. He didn’t even know he moved. One moment he heard Brave cry out in pain and the next he was across the room. His hand throbbed in aftershock from where he slapped Liem across the face. “Grow the fuck up!”
Liem clutched his burning cheek and stared at Ky in shock. His wand was limp in his hand. “Y-You…”
“That’s not the way to do things!” Ky shouted. “You’re just some stupid, spoiled child with too much power who can’t see demons are people. They’re not fucking toys. They don’t exist to do what you want. They’re people!”
Ky’s outrage grew until he was gasping for breath between words. Liem continued to stare at him dumbfounded; it was too much. “You never should have been bonded to someone as beautiful as Brave. All you’ve done is hurt a being who would have been grateful to have someone understand him in this new world. You chose to hurt him. You treated him worse than someone would treat the lowest of the low.” Ky tripped over his words but kept going, unable to slow from his fast, clipped pace as he shoved Liem back. “You don’t deserve Brave, and if I knew how to free him from you, I would! You’re a fucking monster! He has fangs and a tail and wings, and you’re the fucking monster, you horrible brat!”
For an instant, it looked like something got through to Liem; there was a flash of understanding and regret deep in his blue eyes. Liem’s expression immediately contorted, and the moment was gone. Red flushed his face and his voice shook with anger. “You don’t understand anything!” Liem hissed. “You dare strike me? I will find a way to get that Requiem for myself. Demons are weak and weak things deserve to be used. You’re the weakest fucking sorcerer ever and you deserve to be broken just like these pathetic creatures!”
Ky pulled his fist back; he’d show the stupid punk just how weak he really was. Liem wasn’t looking for a beating. He grabbed Brave roughly by the arm, and with a muttered spell they both blinked out of the room. All Liem left behind was an echo of his angry laugh and Ky shaking in fury.
Ky looked around sharply. He met Lovely’s gaze when the room proved to be empty of the sorcerer and his wolf demon. “Are they in the shadows?”
Lovely shook his head. “They’re gone; it was a teleportation spell. The apprentice would have to be an imbecile to face the three of us, especially when his bonded demon refused to follow orders.”
Ky nodded mutely as his eyes were drawn to the spot he last saw Liem and Brave. His anger was brittle. Something inside cracked and snapped until he realized he was fighting back tears. “Is he… Is he going to kill Brave?” he forced out through his tight throat.
Lovely crossed his arms over his chest. His shrug was full of indifference when he met Feral’s knowing gaze. “Anselm killed demons, but he had many at the time. It is unlikely a child sorcerer would kill the only bonded demon he has.”
Yeah, but Liem wasn’t a sane person. Ky didn’t want to believe he’d do something so terrible, that anyone would. A day ago he couldn’t imagine a person out there cruel enough to harm someone as beautiful as a Relic. Liem Kane, a classmate younger than Ky, seemed ready to murder a demon just to spite him.
All of this was his fault. Ky never should have black linked with Brave. If only he didn’t say those things, if he hadn’t hit Liem and pissed him off. If he never let Liem into his house in the first place…
Fuck. Dear fuck, should he have let Lovely kill Liem yesterday when he asked?
Ky’s stomach lurched and he fought to keep his balance. Would it have been the right choice now he knew what Liem was plotting? Was he going to come back in the middle of the night to steal the Relics? Maybe he’d kill Ky first, just to get him out of the way. Liem was ready to kill him yesterday; why would that have changed? His parents; would Liem kill his magicless parents just because they were there?
The alarming questions piled in Ky’s mind without any answers. He had no idea what he could do to protect the Relics or his family. Everything he did only seemed to fuck things up more. Brave might already be dead because of him. What was he supposed to do?
Ky’s fingers bit into his palm as he shook with unshed tears. Useless. All he did was cry and fuck things up while others were hurt. Lovely reached for him, but Ky shrugged away with a low sob.
“This is my fault. I got him angry and linked—I don’t even know how I’m linking to them!” Ky yelled suddenly, his eyes wild and glittering. He waved his hands in a wide gesture at Magnificent, Lovely, and Feral. “I’m going to get us all killed. Brave is going to die, and it’s all my fucking fault.”
Ky gasped and stumbled sharply when he was tugged sideways. He hit a solid form and blinked up into Magnificent Night’s fathomless, hauntingly blue eyes. Magnificent’s tail loosened from Ky’s wrist and soothed at the tear sliding a thin path down his cheek. Ky sobbed and crumpled forward, his shoulders hunched inward as he leaned against the demon for support.
“I can’t even get you out of the chains… c-can’t get you home.” Ky couldn’t bear the weight on his chest. He wanted to curl tight, twist into a ball until he disappeared. He went to step away; having the Relics see him like this, so weak and pathetic with every failure, was intolerable. Magnificent wouldn’t let him go. His tail twined around Ky’s chest and he pulled him tight against his body. Ky struggled, but soon found each teardrop lost in Magnificent’s long, dark hair soothed him a little. He wrapped his arms around the demon’s waist, and with is face buried against Magnificent’s neck, Ky mumbled a stream of heartfelt, tearful apologies.
Lovely cleared his throat, and Ky glanced up while sniffling. The cat demon kept his distance, his blue and violet eyes wary as he observed the two of them wrapped together. “It would be wise to collar Seriphous now, if only to prevent the apprentice from breaking in and doing so while we sleep.”
A feeling of dread hit Ky in the pit of his stomach. Liem would come back for Magnificent. Maybe for all of them. What it took to protect the demons… Ky shook his head weakly. “It’s not right. Magnificent’s been chained here for years, fed off of by the overseer. I’m not going to take his freedom away while he’s chained to the fucking ceiling. He can’t choose, and it’s not right.”
Ky regretted bonding with Lovely in that moment. He regretted every black link he collected. Each one was a life endangered by his ignorance. The only thing he was good for was feeding the demons so they didn’t starve.
More tears spilled when Ky pulled from Magnificent and reached for Lovely’s hand. Lovely readily moved to hold him but Ky didn’t want another hug. He pulled Lovely’s claw down his wrist and blood flowed scarlet on his pale flesh.
“Ky?” Lovely tried to read his eyes but Ky wouldn’t look at him.
“He’s hungry,” Ky whispered. He raised his bleeding wrist up to Magnificent’s lips. “He wouldn’t have wanted to kill Liem if he wasn’t so hungry.”
Lovely’s eyes narrowed as he watched Ky feed Magnificent his blood. “We’re not human, sweet boy. We kill things. People. We fight to survive with all the power we have. It is our way and that way involves killing.”
“It was my fault.” Ky was unhearing. He leaned against Magnificent’s chest while the requiem lapped long strokes over his narrow wrist. Heat trickled through Ky. The sensation grew when Magnificent Night’s eyes burned into his, his lips tight on his flesh to suck more fluid free. Brave liked his blood too, Ky remembered in a haze. His eyelids were heavy as he gazed up into Magnificent’s intense features.
Lovely exchanged a glance with Feral, their expressions closed off. “Be careful. We don’t need to feed daily unless injured, and Seriphous is very strong,” Lovely cautioned. “Some are stronger than others, sweetling. Dangerous. Without a collar, he might unintentionally hurt you. You’re still human, and you need to remember to protect yourself.”
Ky’s legs trembled and his face flushed with heat. He pressed into Magnificent’s dark cascade of silky hair and breathed in unsteadily. “He would never hurt me.” Ky doubted too many times already. There were so many opportunities for Magnificent to hurt him if he wanted, but he never did. He wanted to hurt Liem; he could have snapped the apprentice’s neck with a simple flick of his tail the same way he destroyed the bolt cutters. Magnificent wasn’t going to hurt him, and guilt squeezed at his heart when Ky realized how many times he questioned otherwise.
Ky lost a breath when his head was forced up, and his neck stretched tall. He reached, expecting to find Magnificent’s tail around his throat, but there was nothing, just the sorcerer collar. It felt different, stiffer, and as his fingers slid over the smooth fabric, Ky found more slots where links could fit. He met Lovely’s concerned gaze for an instant before he looked away and buried his face back into Magnificent’s hair.
It was only more magic. Ky was able to fuck things up even when he wasn’t doing a thing.
Lovely’s fingers clenched into fists as he watched Ky curled inward and away even more. He wanted to pull his delicate master close, but he didn’t dare get within reach of Seriphous. The Relic was too powerful to underestimate, chained or not.
Feral grabbed Lovely by the bicep and pulled him toward the stairs. He willfully ignored all of Lovely’s quiet insistences to stay with Ky.
The Killer Wardrobe
$0.00
Episode #3. When furniture attacks…
Ky’s tumble into the wardrobe leads to a heartbreaking discovery; Lovely either has a boyfriend, or a really possessive demon stalker. Either way, the wardrobe fiend is ready to slash Ky a new one until Lovely gets the brute under control the only way the sexy catboy knows how.
Ky grows more concerned about what’s going on in his new house, from creatures hiding in the dark to the persistent scent of blood and rot. He ends up in the basement again as he tries to feed the murderous monster he’s certain is chained up in the darkness.
Lovely wants Ky to name him with collar in hand, but the magic is far stronger than first thought. Ky hears the truth about what happened to Anselm. If they don’t hurry, no one left in the big mansion is going to survive.
Each episode in this sexy, suspenseful gay monster harem serial is over 10,000 words, and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
10,000+ wrds, First Published January 15, 2016.
Heat Level: XX
Ky, who was supposed to have only stepped into his wardrobe, was naked, lost and surrounded by absolute darkness. His nose filled with dust. He sneezed and immediately smacked his head into his hand. “Ow.” For some reason he was certain he was in the attic. He didn’t have a way to confirm it with everything dark and impossible to see, but something about the smell and dust made him think of the place and the hole where all of Anselm’s sorcery equipment was hidden.
Ky really didn’t have a moment to think. Something soft and fluffy rubbed against his bare leg in the utter darkness. He grabbed for it, careful not to yank when he recognized Lovely’s tail. The catboy gave another angry hiss, and Ky quickly reached out and found a mess of limbs, claws, hot flesh and heaving breath. Without thinking, he grasped tight and pulled.
It really wasn’t the smartest idea. With a crash, Ky fell backward. Two solid, muscular bodies toppled on top of him and they all clattered out of the wardrobe door and onto his bedroom floor with a thud. The light was blinding to Ky’s addled senses as all the air knocked out of him. Red pain throbbed where he slammed against the hardwood and where the other two then crashed into him. He groaned weakly. His face was full of silky white hair, and he was pinned by bare flesh at every angle. Aches and dull throbbing pain ran through his body as he struggled to breathe. Damn, he was seriously starting to hate his wardrobe.
Ky tried to keep the room from spinning as his head gave a stubborn flare of pain where it hit the floor. Lovely continued to struggle with his attacker. His ears were folded back on his head and he hissed loudly as he slashed claws behind him. As he fought, Lovely pushed himself off of Ky to keep from crushing his fallen form.
Ky watched in a haze and wondered just what a concussion felt like. Maybe he fell out of bed and was dreaming the entire thing. Surely it would make more sense than having the pale, beautiful Lovely fight claw to claw with a golden, punkish looking ruffian who was snarling fangs while he pushed the slender catboy down to the ground and kissed him fiercely.
Ky released a weary sigh as his bruised and battered brain clicked something together.
Crap. Lovely had a boyfriend.
A jealous boyfriend who was not happy with him, or, at least, his clothes.
Maybe Lovely had a thing for people in clothing, and the feral, nude thing couldn’t compete? Ky just couldn’t catch a break. Stupid Blackstone Falls didn’t have any goddamn options for gay and gorgeous.
Ky tried to get up only to quickly dismiss the ridiculous notion as the room spun again and pain flared everywhere. No, he needed to fix this. He somehow got in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. Given the two of them had no problem slashing the hell out of each other, he’d feel really bad if they did something they’d regret.
Ky rolled awkwardly to his side and tried not to groan in pain as he got onto his hands and knees. He was all skinned up; an elbow raw, one of his toes mangled on the lip of the wardrobe, not to mention the bruising everywhere.
“Please, stop fighting,” he croaked out and winced at the sound of his voice. No, he wasn’t doing well at all. “I didn’t know Lovely was spoken for, and, well…”
Wait. Why the hell was he apologizing? It wasn’t like he even had a chance to see Lovely, never mind ask if he was in a committed relationship. If anything, wasn’t Lovely just a really bad boyfriend for sleeping around with people who couldn’t see in the dark?
Ky shook the thought from his head, and grabbed his skull when it throbbed painfully in retaliation. “Hey, stop fighting!” he yelled and slammed his hand down on the floor. He was ignored. Lovely kicked the bronze skinned, muscular young man off him. Ky only had a moment to sit back with a plop as the catboy jumped up and followed after his target.
On Lovely’s back fluttered a pretty set of white wings. They were small, petite and flexed when he grabbed his tall attacker by the hair. Gold glinted from sharp ears reminiscent of a coyote. Ky just caught sight of the piercings right before Lovely twisted the furry triangles vindictively. Wardrobe guy was in serious trouble, and after what Ky went through, he didn’t feel remotely bad for him. Given the punkish hairdo of his golden blond and purple colored messy locks, as well as his eyebrow rings, the long scar which ran down half his face, and permanent snarl, the jerk was probably asking for trouble.
Wardrobe guy’s wings weren’t white like Lovely’s. They were black and feathery and made Ky wonder just what the hell both of the two creatures were. As cat-like as Lovely was, and as coyote-like as this jerk was, the wings just didn’t really make much sense.
Then again, nothing made a lot of sense lately.
What Ky first thought were just growls and snarls started to form a pattern. The two were having quite the argument in their respective language. His suspicions grew when Lovely pointed in his direction, hissed heatedly and wrenched one of the wardrobe guy’s ears. Ky flinched when the other’s gaze met his; his eyes were a startling gold with pinprick pupils full of malice.
Feral. The thing was absolutely feral and totally hated him.
As if to prove his point, the muscular attacker swiftly grabbed Lovely around the waist, pushed him down to the floor and bit him on the back of his neck. Lovely gave a loud cry and tried to push back up, but the other pinned him down with his larger body.
“Leave him alone!” Ky yelped. He stumbled forward on his knees, then stopped short when Feral glared up at him and growled with his teeth still buried in Lovely’s neck. Ky gulped. He hated he was hesitating. He knew the creature could totally tear him to pieces, and given his glare, would be happy to do it.
“Ky,” Lovely gasped out. He reached a clawed hand forward. Long strands of his white hair tangled around his arm.
Ky already had his face nearly slashed off. Not only did he fall into a bottomless pit in his wardrobe, but was crushed by two fighting creatures just after getting out of bed. He’d deal with the beating the fucking wardrobe guy wanted to give him.
“Lovely, I’m right here.” With a defiant glare into Feral’s golden eyes, Ky reached for Lovely’s hand. He gasped loudly when Lovely grasped his fingers and pulled him down roughly to the floor. Ky’s chin burned as it scraped against the hardwood painfully.
“Oww,” he groaned petulantly. No, it was not a good day.
Ky’s eyes cracked open, and he came face to face with Lovely’s mismatched gaze of blue and violet. “Lovely, that totally hurt…” he trailed off when Lovely cupped him by the head to pull his face closer, and his tongue licked out to move over the wound on his chin. Ky released an unsteady breath. His body felt like a hot, melted puddle of goo as Lovely’s tongue teased up and slid over his lips, then slipped between them firmly.
Ky’s eyes fluttered shut and he pressed closer. His mouth opened eagerly as his lips sealed with Lovely’s, who curled fingers into his dark hair and kissed him deeply.
There was a fierce growl and Ky immediately snapped his eyes open. Somehow he managed to forget about Lovely’s very angry boyfriend, who was glaring down at him.
Well, he assumed his boyfriend. They fought like they damn well might be dating, and the kissing could be a sign and all. But maybe the wardrobe guy was just a jerk who thought he should be allowed to kiss Lovely, and not actually his boyfriend?
There was no way Ky could win a fight against this weird, brutish creature for Lovely’s affection. Still, if he waited until Feral went back into the wardrobe, he could get a big padlock and chain and lock the jerk in there. With that thought hot in his mind, Ky dared to meet the golden glare burning into him.
Even though he had a scar running from his eyebrow all the way down to his jaw, Feral was actually really hot. Not in an aristocratic way like Lovely, but more like a model turned street thug with his heavy eyebrows and dangerous sharp eyes. His full red lips would probably look a lot nicer if he wasn’t snarling. What the hell was the guy’s problem, seriously? Was he, like, living in the damn wardrobe?
It was difficult to concentrate no matter how mean Feral’s snarl was. Lovely’s tongue again lapped over Ky’s face and teased against his lips.
“Lovely, uh, I don’t think this is the right time for… Oh. Okay.” There was just something about Lovely and it made him really dizzy. Ky gasped softly as he was pulled closer. Claws tickled the back of his head when Lovely lapped between his lips and stroked his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Ky barely noticed the hand slam down right next to his face. Lovely did. He pulled away to grab the offending wrist, and his otherworldly eyes glowed anger directed solely at Feral.
Ky couldn’t understand the exchange of words. Even though Lovely was shorter and delicate in appearance, he looked like he was more than capable of slashing Feral into ribbons. Ky bit his lower lip as his eyes were drawn to Lovely’s razor sharp fangs and narrowed eyes. Yeah, Lovely was a badass no matter how pretty he was. It sent a flutter through Ky’s stomach; he wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or bad.
Feral gave another low growl and turned his glare back to Ky, who tried his best not to flinch.
“Stop being so mean,” Ky muttered. His chin pointed out defiantly as he struggled to push up from the ground. “I haven’t done a damn thing to you.” Feral slammed his other hand down and Ky yelped before he could stop from cringing away. “Asshole!”
Lovely hissed again, dragged Feral down, and slammed his head tight against the floor. Ky hesitated from trying to escape, unable to take his eyes off the catboy as he effortlessly pinned Feral. Yeah, Lovely was really hot when angry. Ky bit the side of his thumb as he watched the two growl in their angry language. Lovely was really strong, his muscles long and graceful, and nude body sleek and smooth. Even his strange ears and tail were sexy; claws, fangs, wings and all. Lovely definitely wasn’t human, neither were, but wow, they were seriously sexy.
Ky wasn’t sure what changed exactly since he was unable to understand what either of them were saying. Something in the timbre of Lovely’s voice and the way Feral’s glare turned smoldering made Ky swallow hard and his face heat up. Lovely ran his tongue over Feral’s scar and purred low in his ear. With a growl, Feral twisted and pinned him again. Lovely moaned as he was pushed face first down to the floor while Feral nipped at his shoulders and neck ravenously.
He should probably go. Really. Clearly Lovely wasn’t averse to being kissed by the wardrobe creep as much as he hoped. Ky couldn’t seem to get himself to move. He bit his thumb harder as he watched Lovely gasp and arch his ass up in the air. His elegant tail wrapped around Feral’s thigh and pulled him down on top of him.
Feral had strong looking hands. They were large, rough, and when he ran them over Lovely’s pale skin, part of Ky wanted to know what they felt like. Stupid. Feral slashed his face and was an absolute menace. Just, there was something in the way he was possessive, consuming and rough in his touch that made Ky’s breath grow short and his mouth dry when he thought what it would feel like to have such attention of his own. Lovely was definitely enjoying it. He moaned lowly and kept shifting his hips to ground back against Feral’s hard dick with rocking pushes.
Bullying Teacher
Exclusive Library
Beau and Darien return, the new science teacher confused and consumed with memories of what happened only days ago. He feels drawn to his controlling student but repelled by the sheer need growing in him. He wants to be owned and protected, but also publicly disgraced and he doesn’t know how to deal with these strange, overwhelming urges.
On the outside Darien seems to have everything under control, but he’s new to the game he’s playing with his Mr. Ashford, and even more to the possessive feelings running through him. He doesn’t want to lose himself, but everything about Beau is stripping him down, making him raw and desperate to hold onto the man at all costs. Including buying him outright.
Yardstick in hand, Darien wants to mark his teacher as his own, but first he needs to know if Beau likes pain as much as he thinks the man does.
18+ This serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and themes of bondage, discipline, and some humiliation. Each episode is over 10,000 words long and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
10,000+ wrds, Published January 15, 2016.
Heat level: XX
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.
Bullying Teacher
Exclusive Library
Beau Ashford has again found himself the victim of bullying. Surprising, considering he’s an established teacher now. His pretty face and weak demeanor has made him the target of every aggressive glare that turns his way, this time his own privileged students.
Darien Castello—strong, confident and son of a billionaire senator—is willing to protect his pretty teach, but for a price. Either he gets paid $500 a week for his protection services, or he’s going to help make Beau regret starting his new science position in the wealthy university. If Beau can’t afford it all, Darien is happy to take it out in trade. $450 worth of his teacher’s body.
What starts as a bizarre protection scam quickly spirals into something else as Darien awakens dark, confusing desires in his once straight-laced teacher. Can Beau find a way to free himself from the strange obsession taking him, or will he be bullied into something that could lose him his job and life as he knows it?
18+ This serial contains explicit m/m sexual content, graphic language, violence, and themes of bondage, discipline, and some humiliation. Each episode is over 10,000 words long and should be read in order to be enjoyed fully.
10,000+ wrds, Published January 15, 2016.
Heat level: XX
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.
Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid
Exclusive Library
An angel, a demon and a love-wary teenager walk into a cemetery…
Aiden Fisher hates Valentine’s Day with a passion saved only for holidays and annoying public displays of affection. He’s spent his teenage life trying to be as unapproachable as possible even if his cute face has heads turning. This Valentine’s Day he finds he’s failed his goal; a secret admirer wants to meet him.
Aiden has a lot of reasons to avoid love at all costs, many he can’t seem to remember when he’s approached by two foreign, beautiful boys that say they’re destined to meet. He tries to avoid the alarming feelings welling up, but when they’re attacked and he brings his new friends home, there’s nowhere to run.
Trying to hide as much of his embarrassing home life as he can from these quirky winged boys, Aiden finds himself faced with a choice. Does he wants to suffer in love or suffer alone?
Disclaimer: This slightly dark, sweet novella contains explicit m/m sexual content between multiple partners, graphic language, first time experiences, and hot winged boys and a pretty punked out bottom in a committed threesome relationship. Made specifically for Valentine’s Day, beware of sappiness, sarcasm, angst, and plot. All sexually active characters are 18+.
33,000+ wrds, Published February 12, 2016.
Heat level: XX
on March 16, 2017
Sadie again writes a beautiful erotic story. Human Aiden loathes valentine’s day. When he gets a rose and a request to meet, he’s furious. He goes, but only to tell the giver off. When he gets there, 2 stunningly beautiful boys are waiting. The halfie Damien to translate and the angel Gavril. But Aiden is not gay, or is he, he seems to be the last to know. Craziness goes down and he takes them home and into his heart. Is this relationship even a good idea? Yet, I could not put it down until it was done
The claiming and the fact that Gavriil was drawn to both Aiden and Damian from so far away, maybe even from another world? I just love the pull of fate and destiny type of stories.
Can’t wait to read the next book of this series.
It’s the last Valentine’s Day I’m going to have to endure at school. Somehow it seems to be mocking me, starting from the horrible amount of red and pink everyone’s wearing. Even the other guys are wearing the garish colors while I’ve resolutely dressed in my normal black.
I can’t stand the holidays, Valentine’s Day especially. It has nothing to do with the forgotten religious saint or the fertility festival the damn thing originally represented. No, it’s the way couples just disregard all decency and once again shove their happiness in my face. Like being single means I should automatically be miserable? Like a relationship is the end-all of being a satisfied human being? Fuck them. At least I’ve never had to listen to some girl tell me off for not calling her every hour.
I have no interest in being in a relationship. Seeing everyone acting like it’s the only thing a guy could want is really annoying as fuck.
Dropping my book bag on the floor, I take a seat for my first class of the day, trying to ignore the obnoxious amount of snuggling going around. When exactly did Valentine’s Day become an excuse to ignore all acceptable forms of public displays of affection? I might be running to the bathroom soon to vomit if this keeps up.
“Aiden, you look like someone pissed in your cereal this morning.” Ben, my best friend, sits down next to me, his hands smacking on his desk. He flashes me a toothy grin, clearly not actually caring that I hate today with a passion.
“What are you so happy about?” I finally ask when he insists on smiling at me.
“I got Vanessa a rose. I even wrote her a bitchin love poem.” His smile somehow manages to grow. “If that doesn’t get her to agree to go out with me, nothing will.”
Scowling at my terribly happy friend—Seriously, it’s Valentine’s Day; happiness is not welcome today—I pull out my math book and notebook. “What exactly do you mean by ‘bitchin love poem?’ Is this like some modern art thing?”
“Nope, even better. I wrote it myself.”
Nodding slowly, I duck my head so he can’t see me wince. “That sounds… um, bitchin.” Hideous. Seriously repulsive. God, I hate Valentine’s Day.
“Wanna read it?”
I bite my lip, knowing if he so much as shows me anything he’s written that’s supposed to convince anyone he’s in love with Vanessa, I’m going to laugh my ass off. “I’m good. For real.”
Ben smiles obliviously, his hair brushing into his eyes. “So?”
“So?” I repeat, folding my notebook open and wondering when the hell Mr. Jacobs is going to get here so the idiots will finally sit their asses down and stop making out around me.
“So, who did you get a rose for?” Ben asks, sounding even chipper than when he first sat down.
I glare at him sideways. He looks ridiculously young and happy and I sort of hate him right now. “No one. You know I don’t buy into this stupid holiday.”
“Pssh. You’re just mad because you haven’t found your ‘one’ yet,” Ben says with all the conviction of a hormonal eighteen-year-old that hasn’t had a relationship last more than three months. “When you fall in love, you’ll totally love Valentine’s Day.”
I debate whether I want to tear his love theory apart verbally to pass the time. I’m in a terrible mood, but I don’t know if I want to take him with me. He’s got that hopeful puppy-dog look he gets right before his heart is broken—This time by Vanessa, who has been looking at Ryan H. for the last month. Seeing as Ryan has a car, Ben is so outmatched. I settle for grunting noncommittally and scribbling doodles in my notebook.
There’s a commotion at the door and I sigh. Finally, the teacher is here and we can start. Except it’s not Mr. Jacobs, it’s a ridiculously cheerful girl carrying an armful of roses. I glare, realizing I’m going to have to go through the receiving, squealing, and all around vomit inducing lovey-dovey crap that comes along with girls getting flowers from secret and not so secret admirers. Fuck my life.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ben says, grabbing my arm before I can get up and go hide out in the bathroom.
“What—Why the fuck should I stay around for this shit?” I mutter but sit down. Most of the girls are swarming the doorway anyways—There’s no getting by them to escape.
“Cheer the fuck up, Aiden. It’s just Valentine’s Day. It’s not like people are going out of their way to make you unhappy.”
“Aren’t they?” I snap, pointing at the group of giggling girls. “If I never have to hear that noise again, I’d be happy.”
Ben rolls his eyes. “Nothing makes you happy. Not the many holes in your head, your punk music, or even those funky combat boots. You are determined to be unhappy and you shouldn’t go blaming the rest of the world for your state of being.”
Glowering, I hunch over my desk, deciding to ignore him and the class until the stupidity dies down. Having eyebrow rings and a tattoo on the back of my neck isn’t some statement in being unhappy, it’s just a statement in being me. Ben wouldn’t understand, always wasting his time and energy trying to get with the next pretty, vapid thing he sees instead of figuring out himself.
Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, a red rose landing on my notebook. Blinking, I looked up in disbelief as Callie—super smiley cheerleader—hands me a white card. “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Aiden.”
“What?” I say dumbly, glancing sideways to find nearly everyone in the classroom suddenly looking at me.
She continues as if I hadn’t said anything, the card landing on top of my desk when I refuse to take it from her hand. “You know, you’re the first boy that’s gotten a rose this year. Usually guys send them to girls,” she says with a slightly accusing look.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a rose now? Or… is she saying a guy sent me a rose?
“Hey, just because Aiden’s a guy, doesn’t mean he can’t get a rose,” Ben speaks up before I can actually ask what she’s implying. Throwing her bleach blond hair over her shoulder, Callie gives a bored huff and just steps away to the next person on her list.
“It’s the fucking twenty-first century. Geez,” Ben mutters before pasting another huge smile on and smacking me on the back. “Well, what does it say? Who sent you the rose?”
“What?” Scratching the back of my head, I look at Ben warily. My friend of forever has been acting weird ever since he spent his summer in New York with his cousins. I’m not sure exactly what he’s got in his head all of a sudden when it comes to me, but he’s been saying a lot of stupid shit like how I don’t need a girlfriend if I don’t want one, and he’d never judge me no matter what. It’s been really getting on my nerves but I don’t know if now is the time to bring it up, especially when half the class is trying to snoop over my shoulder to read the stupid card on my desk.
Shaking my head, I flip the plain white notecard open, glancing briefly at the one line before flipping it shut and pocketing it.
“Well?” Ben asks, curiosity clear in his voice.
“Well, what?” I go back to scribbling in my notebook, pointedly ignoring him.
“What did it say?”
Sighing in annoyance, I glance his way, finding two other people looking at me just as curiously. Fuck this stupid shit. “Nothing.”
“Like fuck—They wouldn’t have given you a card if it was blank.” Ben isn’t going to let it go. Actually, he looks about ready to wrestle me to the ground so he can get the thing and read it himself. That I’m only five foot ten, and slender will not stop my taller friend. That I also fight like a crazy bastard and enjoy biting will probably keep him from trying it.
“It’s just a time and place for a meetup. No name,” I finally grunt out, looking down at my desk. “I’m sure they just got me confused with someone else. There are like seven guys named Aiden in the grade below us.”
“Aiden…” Ben just sighs, something else I choose to ignore. He can tell me till he’s blue in the face and I want to beat the fuck out of him that I’m actually a likeable guy, but I know better. I barely tolerate people and people, well, they keep their distance. I might have a cute face but with the right scowl and mean enough piercings, they back the fuck off. It’s how I like it. I don’t want people in my life—My life is difficult enough.
“When is it?” Ben asks when I relax enough to think he’s dropped the subject.
“When’s what?”
“Stop fucking with me. The meetup?”
Grunting, I pull the note from my pocket and hand it to him. He reads it, his brows furrowed as he gives me the card back. “That’s a weird place to meet someone.”
I shrug. “I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are. Someone bothered to write you a card and buy you a rose. You’re fucking going—Stop being such a dick. What if they really like you?”
“Then they’re fucking dumb.” I shove the note back into my pocket, eyes falling on the rose. It’s actually kind of cool looking, the edges of the blood red petals blackened like they’ve been burnt. I reach out, letting my fingers brush over a silky smooth petal. Even the thorns are tipped in black. Do they dye roses now?
I pick it up, pressing my thumb against a thorn. It certainly feels real. Ducking my head, I give it a hesitant sniff, a small smile stealing across my lips.
Fine, it’s a cool rose. Not one of those girly pink ones or I would have tossed it already. But it’s not like you can fuck up a flower. Whoever had the nerve to send me one doesn’t automatically get a meeting with me just because the rose doesn’t suck.
The pack of girls finally leaves the doorway, the sound quieting down as the last of the class trickles in. Observing the way the black edges make a spiral pattern as they wrap around the rose, I’m pulled away by the weight of someone’s stare. It’s the new kid, the foreign transfer that showed up a month ago, currently standing halfway in the room and staring at my rose like he’s never seen one before.
Gavriil Strife is a weird one. He has golden blond hair, weird violet eyes and looks like some fucking model out of a magazine. He’s tall, built, and just has this ease about him with his stylish hair and graceful walk. Every girl in the school is chasing him hardcore, his nickname being ‘the golden prince.’ Annoying enough, but he doesn’t talk, like ever. I think I might have heard him say something once when answering a teacher, and his accent was so thick, I didn’t understand a word. No one can understand him but everyone loves him. It’s bullshit.
That he’s staring at me now, those weird eyes rimmed in black piercing into mine is unsettling as fuck and I find myself biting my lip. But I refuse to back down; he’s staring, and it doesn’t matter where he’s from, it’s still rude. Then the jackass grins at me, his expression turning mischievous like he’s got some fucking secret before he looks away and crosses to his seat. He’s seriously annoying. Weird and annoying, and I’ve caught him staring at me before. Like every class we share.
“What was that about?” Ben leans over to whisper in my ear.
“Fucking weirdo,” I mutter flatly, looking again at the rose and trying to fight the urge to glance over and see if Gavriil’s still staring. Maybe he’s pissed his didn’t get a rose, seeing as he’s a total pretty boy… Hell, maybe his ex sent me the flower? Has the kid actually taken any of the swarms of girls up on a date? He doesn’t speak a word of English yet he’s in my English class. I chance a peek, violet eyes meeting mine for a moment before I look away.
Weirdo.
The idea of Gavriil dating anyone is annoying as fuck too, like the weird boy himself, and I huff and turn to another page of my notebook so I can draw myself a maze. I take small joy in adding spikes and pits filled with vipers for any wanderer to get stuck in. It’s a shit day and only promising to get worse.
***
I’ve dodged Ben’s incessant questions throughout the day about if I’m going to the stupid meetup. The only reason I’m even considering it is just because it’s on my way home. If some idiot wants to wait out in the fucking freezing cold in the middle of February after a damn snowstorm, that’s really their problem, not mine. Throwing a $5 rose in my lap doesn’t mean I’m required to freeze my ass off.
I’m actually pretty angry about the whole thing. Seriously, what stupid idiot got me a fucking rose? Who the hell thought that I’d be into some stupid romantic rendezvous on the sappiest fucking day of the year? I was embarrassed during class, everyone keeps looking at me, and the questions will not stop. If I do go, I’m probably going to do it just to tell the person off for making my Valentine’s Day even worse than normal.
Scowling into my locker, I pull my black jacket on, hunching into the heavy material. It has a few holes but layered with my sweatshirt it does the trick for the fifteen-minute walk home. Tugging my slouchy on over my shaggy dark hair, I glare sideways at Ben who is, of course, waiting for me to tell him if I’m going to meet my ‘secret admirer.’
Fuck, even the name annoys the fuck out of me.
“Well?”
“Fuck off.” I slam my locker shut, ducking around him.
“Stop being an ass, Aiden. It’s just one little meeting. Just give the guy a shot—Shit.” Ben stops short as I whirl, his hands held up defensively.
Guy? Glaring at the cringing brunette, I stomp back. “What the fuck do you know?”
“N-Nothing, it just sort of slipped…” Ben sucks at lying, especially to me. I take a quick look around the hall, way too many of my classmates staring at me. Growling, I grab Ben by his collar and haul him into the empty science room.
“Tell me. Now.”
“Really, it’s nothing. A guess…” Ben coughs awkwardly while I stare him down. I’m not buying it and he knows it. “Fuck… Fuck, stop snarling at me.”
“Tell me, you jackass! Who is it!”
Stumbling back, he ends up sitting heavily on the teacher’s desk. I glare as he smiles at me sheepishly. “I don’t know his name. I just… I’m pretty sure it’s a guy.”
“Why?” I growl when he feels the need to stop at that fucking revelation and not explain. Why the fuck would a guy be looking at me? I’m an asshole to everyone, and I’ve never shown an interest in hooking up with anyone, especially guys.
“Well… um… Someone asked me if you’d… might be interested…”
“Oh my god—Fucking whore, Ben! Why? Why would you tell someone that I’d—Fuck.” I whirl, pacing away before I do something uncalled for, like punch the idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why would he do that? Does he hate me or some shit? He’s like my only friend—Do I have to worry about him spreading fucking rumors about me liking dick or something? Fuck.
“Aiden, you have to understand. I just thought, well… Well, I just thought,” Ben finishes lamely, wincing when I turn and glare his way.
“You think I’m gay?”
Looking uncomfortable, he gives a weak shrug. “It could explain a few things.”
And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Like what?” I growl, my hands on my hips as I wait expectantly for whatever stupid is going to come out of his mouth. There is nothing remotely gay about me. Fuck, if I’m anything, it’s asexual, but I hate fucking labels so I wouldn’t even say that. I have no interest in being with anyone, period.
“You don’t date,” Ben points out.
“So? You know my fucking home life. You think I want to bring anyone into that shit?”
“Bullshit,” he says, standing up and glaring back at me. “Do you think I’m blind or something? Like I can’t see when you’re checking a guy out? You spent nearly half of last class staring at Chris.”
“He was cheating off of Duley,” I snap, really not liking where this is turning. I do not check out guys.
“Was his ass cheating? Cus that’s where you were staring.”
“Are you shitting me—Did you just seriously accuse me of…?” There are no words. “Ben, I’m not gay!” I yelp in frustration.
“Whatever, jackass,” he mutters, like I’m fucking lying to him or something. “I’m not the only one who thinks it, man. Ever since Gavriil transferred in, everyone has been talking about it.”
Blinking dumbly, I hold up my hand. “What? What the fuck does that weirdo have to do with anything?”
Ben growls in exasperation. “Dude, you stare at him all the time!”
“Only because he keeps staring at me!” I turn away, my hat coming off in my hands as I grab my hair and tug. Stupid Gavriil Strife—Of course that fucker is to blame for all this. The damn pretty-boy came in here acting weird, and the second I glare at him everyone just assumes I have a thing for him because he’s gorgeous. The fucking bastard.
“Who did you tell?” I ask, spinning back to Ben. “Who fucking asked?”
Huffing, he folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure.”
“Like fuck you’re not—”
“I never saw the guy before. It was a couple of weeks ago during that football game you left early from.” He gives me a look and I wonder if he’s going to start accusing me of staring at their asses too. “He came up and asked if you were into guys. He had long black hair, green eyes. Tall. Really good looking.”
“Why the fuck do you feel the need to tell me he’s good looking?” I hate him so much right now. “So you just told this absolute stranger that your best friend is into guys?” I say in frustration.
“No,” he snaps back, his jaw squaring defiantly. “I told him it was a possibility. That you’re not the dating type so there was really only one way to know for sure.”
God, my life sucks so much right now. My mom is probably home drinking our fucking food money away, and here I am standing, listening to my best friend explain how I could be gay.
“Did you ever once think to ask me?” I can’t stop my angry growl. He winces and I feel a mild satisfaction that he at least feels guilty. It’s extremely mild.
“Aiden, I watched you eat half a raw potato before you realized it wasn’t an apple.”
“So—What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“So, you’re fucking oblivious, man. If I was going to ask someone about you, I’d ask me first because, fuck, I know you better than you know you.”
Scoffing, I glance away. “No, you don’t.”
“Oh yeah? Favorite food—Cheeseburger with extra pickles, but on a grill because you like the burn but still pink in the middle. You’re two homework assignments away from failing Mr. Pincer’s class. You spent all of yesterday with a pink barrette in your hair because you didn’t notice I put a fucking barrette in your hair. Dude, you’re a fucking space case,” he says with a wave of his hands.
I pause at that, remembering vaguely something pulling on my hair yesterday when I took my hat off. Fuck. “Pink? You jackass.”
“Do you even know how many people check you out?” he continues sternly. “Like every fucking day? I have chicks asking all the time if you’re, like, not allowed to date or something. I see guys looking at you all the time, and hell, I’m as straight as they come, but even I can admit you’re totally sexy, man.”
I splutter, glaring at him while my tongue refuses to work. I am not sexy. I am angry and unapproachable, and that is how I want to be.
“Aiden, go meet the fucking guy. For once in your life stop wandering around aimlessly after cleaning up your parents’ mess, and just live a second for yourself. People want to get to know you, so give them a fucking chance already.”
It probably would have been more poignant if my best friend wasn’t trying to send me off because he thinks I like dick. As it is, I’m just more annoyed that there are at least two people on the planet determined to make this day as fucking miserable as possible.
“I’ll go,” I finally growl, glaring him down as he beams in reply. “But only to tell this guy that you were mistaken. Bad enough he’s so retarded he thinks I’m dating material to begin with.” Seriously, you’d have to be a fucking idiot to think I was worth hanging around for any amount of time. I’m pretty sure Ben’s an idiot, and he’s well aware of my opinion on the matter.
“Seriously, dude, if it’s the guy from the game, he’s hot. I’d never do you wrong like that.”
I shake my head. There are really no words for how dumb he is today. Fucking Valentine’s Day.
“Did Vanessa like her rose?” I grunt out, feeling spiteful. Ben gives a heartfelt, woeful sigh. Answer enough. Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot and now I have to go let some really confused gay guy down on Valentine’s Day. Fuck my life.
A Blackmailing Stepbrother Romance
Exclusive Library
“Do you think I won’t tell?”
Jayce Flint, perfect stepbrother and all around nice guy is losing his mind. His once sweet, hero worshipping little brother has turned into a manipulative terror. One that has no problem using his hot body and pretty face to get everything he wants even from him.
Declan Rainer’s hiding a dark secret. He was the perfect son until his father finally married, leaving Declan all alone in a strange town and new house with a very muscular, overprotective stepbrother. He’s tired of playing nice, and after a drunken encounter he’s ready to get what he wants, starting with blackmailing Jayce.
Can Jayce keep from getting sucked into Declan’s twisted games? Or will his own dark obsession prove far more destructive for the both of them?
18+ Explicit Content containing m/m sexual content of pseudo incest, graphic language, lots of dirty talk, a naïve manipulative gothed out bottom that wants to be used and a very rough possessive top happy to oblige, suburban youth culture of pretty white rich people problems, and some light drug/alcohol abuse. Smut heavy, plot light, all very dirty.
56,000+ wrds, Published January 23, 2016.
Heat level: XX
“Hey, Jayce, isn’t that your little brother?”
Glancing over Paul’s large shoulder, Jayce searched to see where his friend was tilting his head. The mall was crowded as usual, but yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot Declan. “Stepbrother,” he muttered darkly. They didn’t look alike. Jayce was tall, muscular, tanned with shaggy, sandy blond hair and dark eyes. Declan was… well, Declan.
All black hair, blue eyes, and gothed out to the gills. The kid looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of black ink. Tight black semi-transparent shirt, long black shorts, black trenchcoat, black boots, black belt, black choker and bracelets; Declan had a very obvious theme going. Even his eyeliner and nail polish were black. Everything about the kid was black except for his skin. No, his skin was so pale, Jayce swore it glowed half the time. Then there were his eyes. Blue. Crazy blue. Manic and fucked up, and it was always so hard for him to look away from his brother’s eyes. Declan was beautiful.
Jayce wanted to fuck his little brother, and it was really starting to be a problem.
“What is he, some sort of vampire now?” Paul snickered, ducking his head when Declan approached.
Jayce kept his mouth shut, trying not to stare at his sexy-ass brother. There was something fucked up in his little brother’s head. Jayce wasn’t sure what it was but ever since they’d started sharing a room, things had gotten awkward. Part of that was on Declan for being an angry freak. The other part was on Jayce for wanting to do a lot of freaky stuff to the kid. It really wasn’t cool but he was behaving, so that was something.
He kind of felt sorry for Declan. Sort of. The kid had to move to a new town, start a new school, and, oh yeah, leave his old life behind. The kids there were total asses about the goth thing. Not all of them, but enough that his little brother hadn’t made many friends yet. Maybe not any. He was a total loner.
“Hey,” Jayce greeted when Declan was in range. The brunette looked him right in the eye, coolly raised a pierced eyebrow, and then kept walking like he hadn’t said a word. Asshole. There might be a reason Declan didn’t have any friends. Jayce sure as fuck didn’t want to be his friend. Still didn’t keep him from staring at his ass as he walked away, though.
“Harsh,” Paul muttered, grinning when Jayce met his gaze. “You two still fighting?”
“I don’t think we are. Hard to fight when we barely say two words to each other.”
It hadn’t always been that way. Their parents had dated for years and he and Declan had spent all their free time together. The kid had been practically tied to his hip. Declan used to idolize him and Jayce had been thrilled to have a brother. Even if the kid was younger and insisted on being nerdy. Declan had been his best friend. Then everything had gone to shit.
Jayce wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. Their parents had gone through a rough patch and took a break. It turned out to be exactly what the two of them needed because fourteen months later his mom, Sarah, married Declan’s dad, Greg, and the Rainers had moved into his house. But something had changed during that break. Declan refused to answer any of Jayce’s texts or calls as if their parents splitting meant that they couldn’t be friends. Jayce had been preoccupied with college at the time and hadn’t really realized just how much his brother had shut him out. After the wedding, Declan moved into his room a completely different guy. Cold. Goth. Fucked up.
Sexy as sin.
The revelation that his brother was beyond hot had been extremely uncomfortable on Jayce, and not just because they were currently fighting. Declan was the kid he had protected and damn near half raised, their parents always at work and leaving them on their own. He had done his best to protect his brother from the assholes that would look at his nerdy clothes and silly books and talk down to him. Now, well, now every time he looked at his little brother in his ridiculous skin tight black clothes and girly makeup, he just wanted to push him up against the nearest sturdy surface and fuck him raw.
He was pretty sure he was going to hell, perving on his little brother. They might not have been related, but Declan was still everything to him even if he couldn’t stand whatever dumbass phase the kid was going through at the moment. Which just made it so much more messed up that he dreamed about fucking D nearly every night now.
He almost wished he had gone out of state for school instead of attending the local university. Seeing Declan acting out sucked. He had lost his brother only to gain some angry, albeit really hot punk. The kid got pissed every time Jayce even said the word goth. Declan had grown his hair out, all sleek and cut spiky, and although Jayce had managed not to say a word yet about it, D sure hated when he hid his hairbrush.
“I heard a rumor about him,” Paul said while they were walking to the food court.
“What, that he’s an ax-murder that’s escaped from an institution?” Jayce had already heard that one. The kids around there were total dicks and had shit for imagination.
Paul looked around, ducking his head so he was talking into the blond’s ear. “Nope. That he sucks cock.”
Jayce snapped his mouth shut, glaring sideways at his giant of a friend. Jesus, why would he tell him something like that? He was fucked up in the head already about D.
“Jason Henley’s, to be precise. So, is it true? You share a house with him. You probably know if he’s—”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t be that way. Vanessa is crushing on him and just wants to know if she has a shot. She thinks he’s hot, even with his girly hair and makeup.”
Another thing Jayce didn’t ever want to hear. He knew Declan was hot. He didn’t want his fucking friends thinking it about his little brother too. Jayce stopped walking, turning on Paul. “Whatever strange my stepbrother is into has nothing to do with me. Definitely nothing to do with you. Now drop it.”
“Touchy.”
Jackass. Glaring straight ahead, Jayce tried to keep his mind from running in circles. Declan was gay? For real? The kid had never talked to him about guys, or girls, for that matter. He’d never met D’s old friends—the few he’d had. For all he knew, Declan used to have a boyfriend. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell him? Declan knew he was bi. He had to know Jayce wouldn’t have anything bad to say about him if he was gay.
“How certain is this rumor?” He finally asked Paul, frustration clear in his voice. How could Declan have kept such a huge secret from him? Why would he have?
“Ah… pretty certain.” Paul suddenly grabbed Jayce’s arm, pulling him around a pillar and pointing down the line of tables ahead as they stepped into the food court. It was Declan, sitting with his book resting on the table. But he wasn’t alone. Some sleazy looking guy was hovering over his shoulder, talking in his ear. Sure enough, the guy suddenly leaned his head and gave Jayce’s little brother a kiss.
Son of a fucking bitch.
“Whoa, where the fuck are you going?” Paul grabbed the blond’s shoulder and Jayce jerked to a stop. “What, you going to go beat him up or some shit?”
Fuck yes. “It’s fucking Jason Henley,” Jayce hissed, glaring at the two of them as the loser sat his ass down across from his little brother and ran his fingers through Declan’s perfect hair. He was going to fucking kill that asshole!
“Keep it together, big bro,” Paul said in his infuriatingly reasonable tone while refusing to let Jayce go. “If Declan’s as smart as you used to say, he’ll see right through Henley’s crap. He doesn’t need you going in there embarrassing the hell out of him with your macho bullshit.”
Jayce wasn’t so sure. Declan had been messed up lately, acting out, looking for trouble. The kid wouldn’t talk to him for shit and it had been worrying him more and more. Now this. Gay with Jason Henley.
“Henley’s too old for him,” Jayce finally grunted, allowing himself to be pulled away.
“He’s our age,” Paul said with a snort. Jayce and Paul had been on the wrestling team together in high school. Paul might act like a gentle giant but under his flab was enough muscle to keep Jayce from making an ass of himself if he lost his shit.
God, if only it had been anyone other than Jason Henley.
“He’s too old. Old enough to drink. Old enough to get Declan in so much fucking trouble—And that asshole is total trouble. You know his rep.”
“You’ll only make it worse. Keep your mouth shut and let your bro make his own mistakes.”
Jayce growled but didn’t say anything else.
Shit, Henley was such a fucking loser. Like, drugged up half the time, drunk the other half, and all mean spirit. He had also already managed to flunk out of college while Declan was still in his graduating year of high school. Jayce knew it was none of his business, but hell, the idea of that asshole touching his little brother just really pissed him off. The kid could do better.
D was only one summer in Jayce’s town and had already hooked up with the biggest loser around. There really was something fucked in the kid’s head.
***
Jayce had hoped to talk to Declan once he got home later that night but D wasn’t there. Neither were his mom and stepfather, Greg. Not a huge shocker with the last two. They were both doctors at the local hospital and worked the worst hours. Jayce had foolishly expected when his mom finally got married that he’d see her more. Instead he’d been stuck with Declan, which just felt like being extra alone for all the icy distance the kid put between them. Impressive, considering all the shit he had crowded into Jayce’s room.
His mom kept promising they’d move to a larger house soon. Going from a family of two to four overnight had been intense. Declan didn’t get any say in being shoved out of his fancy mansion and into Jayce’s cozy house. The kid was probably hurting about that too—Not that D would tell him.
Jayce made himself a quick snack and then went to his room to get his homework done.
Declan was usually haunting the living room or backyard while reading his horror novels. He read scary shit; weird, dark, bloody stuff that made Jayce wonder if he might be a closet serial killer, as did the kid’s decorating sense. Half of his room was now covered in what he could only assume was vampire paraphernalia, Asian, at that. D had a lot of posters of guys with sleek spiky hair just like Declan’s dressed in elaborate coats, leather, ruffles, and lace. Oh, and they were all in makeup. It was weird. Especially when Jayce spent a day checking a few of them out, only to have Declan tell him they were men. All of them.
That might have been a big clue, now that he thought about it.
Gay. His little brother was gay. And D had never told him. It didn’t make sense. Jayce had told Declan when he was figuring out he was Bi. It had been a big deal to finally tell someone. Declan had been cool about it. Quiet, but hell, he was always quiet. But D hadn’t said shit about liking guys. Had he said something wrong? Did he somehow indicate that there could only be one sexually free brother in the house when he’d moved in? It felt like something he would remember. Fuck.
Maybe Declan knew. Maybe he knew deep inside Jayce’s messed up head he had been checking his little brother out all fucking summer and masturbating to his image. The kid had nothing to worry about. Jayce would only ever look. He knew it was wrong. D was a kid to him—even if he was angry as fuck lately. He was his brother and you just didn’t do that shit. No matter how much he really wanted to.
Jayce honestly didn’t think it was him. There was just something going on with D. Something kinda messed up. Even his bed was black. Black sheets, black bedspread, blood red satin pillows—He must have been feeling rebellious. Declan’s side of the room was covered in candles, all elaborate, drippy looking things in twisted silver holders. The kid kept dead roses in vases with incense smelling up the place. It was really starting to take over the room. Although he did like the incense; it smelled nicer than his gym clothes.
It was like D was living in a fantasy world and Jayce couldn’t figure out why he needed it. All the books, his themed room; he couldn’t imagine being so dedicated to a theme. He just had stuff. Clothes ended up in the bureau, sometimes the floor. He had a few posters, mostly of his favorite video games—And none of them matched. The bedspread was a gift from his grandmother. He could barely put the effort into matching his damn socks. Declan had a theme for his life. It was impressive and fucked up.
Jayce was done with homework and twenty minutes into a very difficult raid in his online game when Declan finally came home. And fuck his life, he wasn’t alone. The kid had finally made some friends. Three very loud, assholic friends that he immediately wanted to beat the shit out of when he realized they were lighting up in his fucking living room.
Seriously, who did that? Just walked into a stranger’s house and started smoking weed? No one had even given a fucking hello.
Jayce wasn’t shocked to discover Jason Henley sucking down a hit, his arm tight around Declan’s waist as they shared the couch. One of Henley’s friends—Jayce had seen him in the parking lot of his school and was pretty sure he was college too—was flipping through the now blaring television. Apparently being high meant also being deaf. The third was laughing about some shit while texting on his phone. Somehow he seemed the least obnoxious of the group, even though Declan was silent and sober.
Ignoring his brother, he focused in on the asshole trying to blow a smoke ring while stinking up his couch. He and Henley had gone through school together. Jayce had managed to not have to talk five words to the loser up until that moment. “Take your pot and get the fuck out of my house.” No, he wasn’t subtle. He was pissed. It was the first time Declan had brought people over and they plain sucked.
“Shit, chill the fuck out, Flint. Or is it Rainer now?”
“Flint,” Declan said in his quiet voice, looking at Jayce nonchalantly. “We kept our last names.”
“Whatever,” Henley snickered, grinning meanly. “Chill the fuck out, Flint.”
Jayce was about five seconds from punching the guy in the face. He could take him, easy. Heat racing through his body, Jayce turned to Declan. “I’m serious, D. Get them the fuck out or I will. You won’t like how I do it.”
Declan was three years younger than Jayce, nearly a head shorter, and his big brother could literally bench him. He knew it, and yet, cool as could be, grabbed the joint from Henley and took a hit. He held it between long fingers, unblinking as he looked at Jayce with his unnerving blue eyes. “Fine. There’s nothing to do in your shit house anyways.”
Motherfucking ass. Jayce waited, his arms folded over his chest to keep from swinging. Henley didn’t want to leave. Too fucking bad. By the time the three stoners were finally through the front door, Jayce was ready to start throwing shit. Namely them. He grabbed Declan before he could go, holding him by the arm while the brunette stared back defiantly.
“You want to bring people over here, that’s fine. But tell them to leave their fucking drugs at home.”
Blowing a strand of ink-black hair out of his eyes, Declan looked completely void of emotion. “Whatever. Not like it’s my house or anything.”
God, he wanted to punch the kid through the fucking wall. He had done everything to make Declan feel welcome. D just kept shutting him out.
“You have shit taste in friends. Normal people don’t get fucked up the second they walk into someone else’s house.”
“Fuck you and your normal.” Declan wrenched his arm free, slamming out the door. Jayce almost followed after, but there was really nothing to say besides a big ‘fuck you,’ and he was trying really hard not to lose his shit. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied that he had managed to break through his brother’s infuriating icy facade for a moment.
God, the kid pissed him off. Worst brother ever.
Jayce might have been referring to himself. Declan had looked fucking hot. Sexy as hell.
Chapter 2
Jayce received a text around eight to inform him that his mom and Greg weren’t going to be home for the pizza he had already ordered and eaten. Also not a fucking shocker. He spent the rest of the night pissed off, playing video games and then pacing as the clock kept ticking and Declan didn’t return home.
His little brother had just met those guys. He was new to town, new to the school, new to everything, and he was letting some fucked up college stoners drive him around. Jayce couldn’t stop the paranoid fear that Declan had gotten into a car accident. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them go until they had gotten the drugs out of their system first. Fuck him if he’d inadvertently caused D’s death because he couldn’t chill over some pot. It wasn’t like it was ecstasy or meth, or even cocaine. He wasn’t tripping on acid.
God, but it had been so fucking rude. Walking into his house like no one else existed. Like it hadn’t been his home for the last ten years. He had helped his mom pick out the place. He was the one that had chosen the couch in the living room that the losers were stinking up with their smoke. Fuck.
He hoped D was alright.
Jayce knew Declan was only a few years younger than him, but he was such a fucking naïve child at times. The kid just didn’t know the world even if he got straight A’s in school. He was always reading, thinking that was the way shit happened. Like you could plan, like people made sense the way words did. The fucked up kids didn’t make sense. From everything Jayce had heard about Henley, he was a user. A user of drugs and a user of boys. And now Declan was just hanging around, not understanding that just because a guy got hard over him doesn’t mean he was in love. Guys got hard over everything; he knew firsthand.
He was going to kill Henley if he touched his little brother. Should have beaten his face in before they’d even left the house for having the nerve to put his arm around Declan in front of him. Fucking sleaze.
He was just about ready to change out of his pajamas and start driving around looking for his brother when he heard a car pull up. Voices raised in laughter flowed in through the window while Jayce looked at the clock on his phone. 2:25 am. The little fuck. The backdoor opened then shut. Hearing a small crash, Jayce quickly strode down the hall, flipping on lights as he moved.
“Hey… big bro.” Declan smiled lopsidedly from his slump on the wall. Jayce stopped cold, closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten.
For fuck sake, the kid was drunk.
He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell D how fucking stupid he was for hanging out with a bunch of fucking losers and then getting shitfaced with them. But he just bit his tongue. Saying that kind of shit would only make Declan want to do it again.
Jayce crossed the kitchen, grabbing the brunette by the shoulder and pulling him off the wall. Declan swayed, stumbling forward, snorting in laughter. “Oh shit. You’re not going to spank me, are you?”
He really fucking should. “You’re fucked up. Get your ass in bed and I’ll put some coffee on.” Jayce pushed him towards the hall. Declan nearly fell, grabbing onto the kitchen table for dear life. Fuck, he was really messed up. “How much did you drink?”
Staring down at the table, a smile slowly split Declan’s lush lips. “Not much… Couple shots.”
“Declan—Fuck!” It couldn’t have been fucking beer like a normal kid. No, he had to go get fucking hard liquor into him.
“No, it’s okay. It was all very sophis… sophis… sophisticated,” he mumbled, turning his smile Jayce’s way. Declan began to lose his balance, his eyes blinking in alarm as he tilted towards the floor. Jayce grabbed him before he could fall, steadying the brunette and pulling him into the hallway.
“You’re an idiot. What the fuck were you trying to prove to those losers? You think they’re going to like you more if you get just as fucked up as they are?” Damn it, he was nagging like some bitchy mother and he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Mmm… Maybe I want to like me more.” Reaching the bedroom, Declan nearly fell when his brother released him. Jayce directed him to his bed so when the kid’s legs finally gave he’d have something soft to land on.
“Change. I’ll be back after I put the coffee on.” Jayce left him struggling with his coat while he escaped to the kitchen and tried not to punch the wall in frustration. He should never have let D leave with those losers. Should have… What? Tied him up? Seriously, Declan did whatever the fuck he wanted. Jayce just hadn’t realized it was going to include fucking up his life.
Should he tell Greg? Was that the answer for something like this? Jayce tapped his cellphone in his pocket while he put the coffee on, his mind whirling. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what the hell Declan’s father would do. Greg was a bit of a religious nut. He was always at the hospital, but while Jayce’s mom was there to provide a service doing something she loved, Greg looked at it like it was his calling.
Maybe he should just wait until morning. Talk to the kid when he was sober and he could feel him out to see if he was going to pull this kind of shit again. Jayce wasn’t his father. Hell, he was barely Declan’s brother. It really wasn’t his goddamn responsibility to make sure—
There was a loud crash from the bedroom. Scowling, Jayce jogged down the hall, only to find his lamp was broken. Not Declan’s lamp. No, that would have just been fair. No, the kid had knocked over his lamp with his jacket and was now on Jayce’s bed. One of his tall boots was halfway off his leg and he was staring at his feet blankly like he had forgotten what he was doing. Fuck his life.
Declan blinked up in surprise when Jayce walked into the room. “My boot broke.”
Yeah, just fucking perfect. Growling, Jayce knelt down, pulling at Declan’s boot. It wouldn’t budge and he had the horrible notion that he was going to have to unlace the godawful things. Then he found the zipper on the side. De-booted, he tapped Declan’s arms until the kid lifted them, then pulled his silky shirt up and over his head.
“Whoa, hold on,” Declan mumbled when Jayce reached for his belt. The brunette pushed himself up, trying to stand, only to stumble forward as he tripped over his boots. “Crap.”
“Stop moving,” Jayce ordered exasperatedly as he saved the boy from the ground again. It was hard enough to get him changed while trying not to look at him. Jayce refused to perv out on his little brother no matter how milky white his skin looked. “Where do you keep your pajamas?”
The question taking a moment to sink in, Declan finally pointed to the corner of the room where he kept his clothes’ hamper. Jayce took a step to leave, but Declan grabbed him, his knees wobbling unsteadily. “Wait… Dizzy,” he giggled, nearly falling again just standing still.
“Declan…” He was annoying as fuck, but D’s smile was heartwarming and made his eyes sparkle. The kid really didn’t smile much anymore. Shaking his head, Jayce tried to walk the boy over to his bed again, but the kid’s feet weren’t budging. “Come on. One foot in front of the other.”
Snickering, Declan made an attempt, managing to step on Jayce’s foot and slide down his body as he immediately fell forward.
Jayce inhaled sharply, his senses suddenly on high alert. Declan’s hands were on his hips, his face pressed into his abs, chest grinding firmly against his dick with only his thin pajama pants between them. Awkward. Especially when his brother looked up at him, his stunningly blue eyes gleaming, lush lips twisted in a smile that could only be defined as sexy. Very awkward. Getting hard awkward.
Swallowing, Jayce wrapped an arm under Declan’s shoulders and pulled him up to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his brother was shirtless and very warm. He was determined to drag the kid to his bed and get the fuck out.
Declan gasped, his eyes wide as he stumbled and fell flush against Jayce, his face tucking into the crook of the taller boy’s neck. God, if he could just get this done before it got any weirder…
And now D was licking his neck.
“You have a very… very nice neck.”
“Please don’t suck my blood. I’m very fond of it remaining in my body.” Jayce dragged him as best he could because his brother had managed to go limp while at the same time clinging to him. It would be easier to just lift him but that would involve grabbing his ass, or thighs… Nope. Not happening. He had to drag him.
Declan snickered into his throat, his breath hot and tickling as he now tried to nip Jayce. Served him right for mentioning vampires. His brother was lithe and sleek in his arms, making it difficult to get a grip. He eventually got Declan across the room and to his bed. He turned, trying to push Declan down, but the kid was wrapped around him like a leech. His teeth kept sending sparks through him Jayce was having a really difficult time not responding to.
“Declan, get off me.” Jayce gripped his shoulders, carefully prying the boy back. Declan growled in protest and grabbed his arm. Jayce froze as their hips shifted. Declan was hard. Fuck. Seriously not cool.
“Ah… Sorry, big bro,” Declan snickered softly, his face again burrowed into Jayce’s neck. “You’re just really… really hunky.” Hands moving down his older brother’s biceps, Declan squeezed hard, fingers fanning and pushing his short sleeves up. “You have the sexiest fucking shoulders I’ve ever seen.”
Right. So apparently Declan was very gay and so horny he didn’t care who he was touching. “Declan, stop grinding your dick into my thigh and get the fuck off me.”
Jayce was having a really difficult time pushing the kid away. It felt so fucking wrong to have his little brother rub up against him. Wrong because it was his brother, but extremely hot because it was Declan, and Declan was really, really hot. Especially when his wet lips kept pressing to his neck, Declan’s hands now pushing under his shirt and touching his back, pulling him closer.
Jayce was a natural, hotblooded guy that could get hard if the wind blew, and he was trying to justify that now. Declan’s hair and makeup made the kid look so different from how he’d looked growing up. He really couldn’t be expected to not think he was hot. He had eyes. But that didn’t mean it was okay to act on it. It was just really difficult to set boundaries at the moment. Declan’s dick was rubbing against his and it was intense, and dirty, and the kid really needed to get the fuck off of him before he lost his mind.
“Declan, stop… Oh fuck,” Jayce groaned, one of Declan’s arms wrapping around his waist and crashing their lower bodies together. He tried to steady himself, his little brother’s weight threatening to knock them over, but it only pulled Declan tighter against him. God, he felt good. He had been dying to touch the kid and it was so hard to keep it together now that he was in his arms.
“Shhh… It doesn’t mean anything.” Declan’s tongue licked over Jayce’s throat, silky hair tickling as he nipped his flesh. “Fuck, you’re hot. Just want to… God, I want you… Want you so much.”
He was drunk. Fucked up, likely stoned, and definitely drunk. And his hand was down the front of Jayce’s pants. “Holy fuck.”
Jayce grabbed the boy’s wrist but couldn’t bring himself to pull him away. Declan’s fingers slowly wrap around his hard cock, brushing up Jayce’s length, teasing over his head. Jayce’s eyes closed, every nerve he had focused on those fingers first taunting and now bolder, wrapping tighter and stroking. “Hell, D. You really shouldn’t be doing that.”
He should stop him. He should really, really stop him.
“That’s it, Jayce… Fuck… Tell me you like it.” Declan licked up his brother’s neck while panting, gripping his other arm around the taller boy’s back. He tried to wrap his leg around Jayce’s, the room tilting from the move. Before he knew it, Jayce was crushing Declan into the bed, the brunette moaning beneath his larger body.
Shit, he had to stop. It was his fucking brother. His naïve, vulnerable, once sweet little brother that was totally messed up.
He tried to untangle himself from Declan’s long limbs, but the brunette was all over him, his knees hooked around the blond’s waist, arms tight on his neck. “Declan, come on… You’re not thinking.” Jayce was stronger, but he was afraid he might hurt him. The kid was just really drunk and fucking confused. He’d hate himself for doing this tomorrow.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” Declan gasped, then his mouth was on Jayce’s, his tongue shoving past his lips. Fuck. Oh, fuck.
There was something really fucking wrong with him when it came to his little brother.
Growling, Jayce grabbed Declan by his hair, wrapping the silky locks around his fist and pulling hard. Declan groaned, his head falling back in the harsh grip as he looked up at Jayce. His eyes were burning that crazy blue, his lids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips blood red. God, he so was sexy. Jayce wanted to fuck those lips so bad.
“Bro…” Declan whispered, his dark lashes fluttering as he panted.
Hearing the boy call him that sent a terrible stab of guilt through his chest. He was just a kid. A dumb, naïve, confused kid that had always trusted him to take care of him. But he was also beautiful. Declan had always been, even before he had started wearing all that shit on his eyes. Jayce had noticed more times than he had ever wanted to admit to himself, his sweet brother so hard to look away from.
“Don’t call me that,” Jayce growled, pulling his hair harder, watching Declan’s lips part in a low moan. Wet. His mouth was so fucking red and wet looking. Jayce pressed his thumb to his brother’s bottom lip, listening as Declan’s breath hitched. God, he shouldn’t. Really.
Eyes caught on Jayce’s, Declan licked his tongue out, moving over his knuckle. Jayce pressed harder and the brunette opened, pulling his thumb into his wet heat. Declan sucked firmly then ran his teeth lightly over the pad of his finger. A shudder running through him, Jayce pulled his thumb away, cupped his brother’s face and kissed him.
Groaning, Declan met him eagerly even when Jayce crushed his lips too hard, gripped his face too rough. He needed to taste him. Just once. Just this one time he would taste him. He plunged his tongue into Declan’s mouth, the brunette moaning, clinging weakly to his brother’s shirt, melting into him, giving in. It sparked something dark in Jayce, primitive and raw. He wanted Declan to give in to him. To stop his incessant fighting and icing him out, and just give in.
Rocking his hips down into his little brother’s, Declan’s thighs clenched Jayce’s waist, their erections grinding together. Their noises were loud and slick as Jayce kissed him relentlessly, exploring every plane, rubbing his tongue against Declan’s, biting the boy’s ripe lower lip sore and swollen. Declan didn’t resist, his reactions slow and uncoordinated the longer his brother suffocated him with every touch of his lips and thrust of his tongue.
It was so hard to hold back, so hard to not take all the many things Jayce had tried to not want from his brother. But he did want them. He had wanted them for the longest time. By the way Declan was moaning, Jayce wasn’t so sure he was alone with that crazy need.
“Jayce… Oh fuck, please. Touch me. Dreamed of you… touching me.” Gasping into the hard kiss, Declan grabbed one of Jayce’s hands, pulling it down between the crush of their bodies, knuckles scraping hot, bare flesh. He was sweating, his flat stomach slippery under Jayce’s fingertips.
He shouldn’t. It was definitely crossing the line. Fuck, kissing was bad enough. Grinding him into his stupid black bed was bad. But to touch him while he was drunk… There was no forgiving that. Jayce was supposed to protect Declan from the kind of losers that would try to do that to him, not be one.
“Please, bro… Please.” Declan pulled harder on Jayce’s hand, pushing until he had his older brother’s palm pressed against the bulge in his jean shorts.
Fuck. Oh fuck, he felt good. He was hard, and he was begging, and fuck, it was really wrong. “D, we should stop,” Jayce muttered, even as he rubbed his palm firmer, groaning as Declan bucked into his hand. “Fuck, that’s it.”
He was done thinking. Declan was whimpering soft cries as he humped his hand, and he was done trying to figure out just how wrong it was. Rolling the two of them to the side, Jayce quickly got to Declan’s belt, unclasping it and tearing through his button and fly. He pushed the boy’s shorts down his thighs, then his underwear—yup, even his fucking underwear was black—and pulled them off his brother’s long, toned legs. Fuck, he was breathtaking.
Pale everywhere. Long, slender, but still toned and strong. He was like something out of a fucking painting, perfect milky flesh and hard, flushed red cock. Jayce couldn’t stop looking at it, a question in the back of his mind of just what the hell D was on that he could be hard while so drunk. But he was. Dripping precum from his throbbing tip. God, he was beautiful.
“Jayce…”
“Quiet, D. Just lie there nice and quiet for a sec.”
Silent, Declan just watched, eyes glowing as Jayce began to move his hands over his brother’s body. Declan’s knee bent when his brother’s large palm roughly moved up his leg, his thighs spreading wide. Jayce slid his hand heatedly over the boy’s inner thigh, his smooth flesh trembling when he gave a squeeze.
He wanted D. He wasn’t supposed to, but god, he wanted him. When he kissed Declan’s nipple, the brunette gasped, and when their eyes met, his little brother looked near tears. God, he was fucking up. Fucking up, touching his brother because the kid was drunk and too fucked in the head to stop him.
“Please,” Declan whispered, his eyes caught in Jayce’s. “I’ll let you do anything. I just… I need you to touch me.”
God, he was so fucked up. Jayce could only pray Declan didn’t say that sort of thing to other guys.
“You’re drunk,” Jayce said hoarsely, trying to stop himself. The kid didn’t know what he was saying. He was just horny and drunk.
“You’re hard.”
The little fucker. Jayce ran his wide tongue over Declan’s nipple again, then pulled it into his mouth. Whimpering loudly, Declan’s fingers tangled into his shaggy hair. Jayce nipped at his slick bud and the brunette arched, and fuck, every noise his little brother made was so sexy. Jayce ran his hands down the sides of his taut body, letting his fingers dig in. When he reached Declan’s hips he held harder, sliding back to caress his ass. Damn, he had a nice ass. Tight and perky. Fucking tight.
Declan reached for his wrist again, Jayce letting him move his hand to his dick. “Please.”
He shouldn’t. Fuck, he really, really shouldn’t. Drunk. D was drunk. Don’t touch your little brother when he’s drunk. Don’t touch him at all.
He was heavy in Jayce’s palm, hot, silken flesh. When he wrapped his fingers around Declan’s shaft, the boy groaned, his hands coming up to grasp his brother’s strong biceps. He stroked Declan slowly, feeling his thickness in his palm, his ridges, wanting to memorize every perfect inch of him. When he reached his swollen cockhead, he let his thumb caress over his slit, wetting Declan with his own slick precum while the boy cried out.
God, he was sexy. He had never known just what the fuck his little brother had been hiding under all that fucking black.
“Jerk me… Fuck, please.” Declan’s hand grabbed Jayce’s wrist again, trying to get him to hurry the fuck up. If only he knew how he looked, begging like that. “Jayce, come on.”
Jayce leaned down, pressing his lips to Declan’s ear. “D, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.” Declan groaned, biting his lower lip hard. “Okay?”
The brunette nodded, eyes meeting Jayce’s intense gaze, full of trust and need. “Do me how you want, big bro. Any way you want. Just do it.”
Jayce had to grip the bed to keep from swaying. Fuck, D really needed to stop saying shit like that. Declan didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what that fucking meant. Because Jayce wanted to be inside him, making him scream, making him sob his name. He wanted Declan to tell him he was going to be fucking good again, and nice, and talk to him like he used to. Jayce was fucked up, and Declan didn’t understand what he was saying.
Pulling his hand away, Jayce ignored his brother’s whimper of protest. He licked his palm while pushing Declan back on the bed, trapping him between his thighs. Jayce was fully dressed. It couldn’t be that bad cus he had clothes on, even if Declan was fucking nude as could be. The kid still had a few bracelets on; that had to count for something, right?
God, he was going to hell.
He was slick in his palm when Jayce wrapped around Declan’s gorgeous cock again, and his moan was fucking perfect. He watched intently as his brother’s flushed tip disappeared into his hand, only to have it reveal again as he moved down his shaft, all the way to his base, Declan’s hips rocking to meet every stroke.
“Bro, look at me.” Declan’s hand tangled in Jayce’s hair as he tried to turn his gaze to his.
Hell, the kid was going to kill him. “Stop calling me that, D.” Jayce met his eyes, his breath catching. Beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful.
Stroking faster, Jayce drank in his brother’s expression. Declan’s head fell back on the bed, his mouth wide as he panted and gasped between toe curling moans. He was dripping saliva, trickling down his chin and jaw. Beneath his broken gasps, Jayce could hear what he was doing to the boy, his hot flesh slick in his fist, slapping wet suction with every pump. Declan grabbed the sheets, fingers clawing, his back arching as he moaned again and again.
God, D. Get there. He wanted to see him come so bad. He was the sexiest fucking thing ever, and Jayce wanted to see his face when he came. For him. Just this moment. Just this one fucked up moment Declan could be his.
Crying out, Declan’s entire body shook with his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut, muscles rock hard as he held onto the sheets. His dick kept jerking in Jayce’s hand, spurting stream after stream of seed onto his stomach. Groaning, Declan went boneless, his eyes weakly cracking back open to meet his brother’s ever watching gaze.
Jayce couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let himself think. He just needed, and needed bad.
He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Declan’s head. Watching silently as he caught his breath, Declan’s tongue drifted over his lips when Jayce climbed up his body and straddled his neck with his knees.
“Bro?”
“Quiet, D.” Jayce ran his hand over Declan’s cheek, tilting the boy’s chin back while he pushed his pajama pants down and freed his achingly hard dick. It wasn’t going to take much. Jayce was so fucking hard, and it was Declan, his beautiful kid brother beneath him, staring at his cock like he’d never seen one before, features twisted in want. His blue eyes kept shifting, moving to Jayce’s face and then to his dusky, dripping cock. Then Jayce started stroking and Declan picked his target, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he watched his older brother jerk inches away.
He wasn’t going to touch him. Just this. Jut have him watch. God, he was beautiful. His lips were fucking swollen and too red. Jayce wanted to fuck his mouth so bad, but that was beyond wrong. All of it was wrong, but that was beyond.
Fuck, would D let him?
Exhaling shakily, Jayce pressed the tip of his cock between his brother’s lips. Declan moaned, his tongue sliding out, teasing over his cockhead, probing tentatively into his slit. Fuck. Oh fuck, he really needed to stop.
“Open,” Jayce demanded hoarsely, the world rocking wildly when Declan parted his lips. He gripped the back of the brunette’s neck with his free hand and slowly pushed forward into Declan’s hot, wet mouth, those red lips contouring to his thick flesh.
God. God, he was actually fucking his mouth. Jayce’s balls were so tight, he knew he was going to come any second. He held off as long as possible. One time. Only fucking time this was ever happening, and he needed to remember.
Declan made a choking noise when Jayce’s tip hit his tonsils. But Jayce kept pushing, needing to feel his brother’s tight channel, needing to make sure Declan knew he was his.
“God… God, that’s it… Fuck, fuck take it, D… Open wide and take my cock, bro… Fuck… good boy… you’re so fucking good.” Jayce didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was grinding the back of Declan’s throat, his fingers painful in the brunette’s sweaty hair, taking his mouth hard while his little brother whimpered beneath his thighs. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t fucking think with Declan’s mouth so hot, throat so tight, those fucking lips of his so red.
Jayce held the boy still when he pulled out, forcing Declan to feel every dirty, sticky drop of cum as he covered his beautiful face with all his jizz. D’s moans were fucking music; low, raspy, filthy. God, that was it. All over his face. Covered in him. His bro. His.
Declan had tears in his eyes as he gasped to breathe. Jayce had been too rough. Could have hurt him… Could have done a lot of things he didn’t do. Fuck. Fuck.
Jayce rolled off his brother, pulled his pants up and left. Declan called for him and he nearly turned back. Bad idea. Really bad idea. The kid was drunk, covered in cum, and damn fucking easy prey for the many things he wanted to do. Jayce forced himself to walk to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. He needed to stop the crazy in his head, the maddening heat that had won way too much already.
Declan was asleep when Jayce got the nerve to return with a wet facecloth in hand. He was exactly how he’d left him, sprawled out nude on top of his bedspread. Jayce washed him off, admiring his porcelain flesh, brushing the bruises already starting to bloom on his hips where he had dug in too hard.
Fucked up. He had fucked up big, and he had no clue how the fuck he was going to fix it.
Maybe D wouldn’t remember? He was really drunk, saying stupid shit about dreaming. Maybe he’d just think it was a dream if he remembered anything at all.
Part of Jayce wanted Declan to remember. It wasn’t the good part of him. It was the fucked up part that wanted him to be his even though it would ruin the kid. Ruin their parents. Ruin fucking everything.
Shit, when had this happened? When had he gotten so crazy over D?
Finding Declan’s pajamas by his hamper, he slipped them on his sleeping brother. Then he arranged Declan under the covers, making sure he was warm. Jayce sat on his bed for the longest time, watching him sleep. Hating himself. Hating how he still wanted him, even then.
God, he was so fucked up.
Declan wouldn’t remember. He was drunk and wouldn’t remember.