#deucalion x yn

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Show Me How ❞

Deucalion x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut, the beginnings are a bit more horror-themed (body horror for r! turning into a werewolf) | sub. bttm. reader (AMAB) | wc: 6k | not proofread

warnings: r! gets a panic attack, short description of vomiting, piquerism, handjobs, impact play, s*xual rewards, s*xual punishments, degradation, overstimulation, edging

req: Just hear me out on Deucalion the man's a whole dilf like cmon okay okay like y/n (amab pls) is a new werewolf like he just recently got bitten, and he was a complete dumbass, like he was freaked out the whole time n Deucalion ended up finding him in some random cave covered in blood (not his own though) he decided to help him out with learning how to control things and stuff being all strict and stuff, Deucalion would give him like rewards when he does things right, like maybe a good hand job or something n when he would mess up he would like punish him like omg what if he hits him with his cane or sum or the little blade he has on the end of it oh and like a bit of degrading maybe or overstim or edging.

part 2

A freshly turned wolf was a beast not many could take down. Many hunters, from mighty families such as the Argents, had lost a barrage of their kin to these wild beasts.

Fuelled with the Moon’s anguish and shame; these ' puppies ' cut down any who dares assault their senses with their scent or heartbeat. That being said, Deucalion wasn't surprised when news of a group of hunters decimated by a newly turned wolf reached his ears. The hunters weren't even a worthy threat to him, he had half a mind to let Ennis deal with it with as much glee as he wished. He was, however, intrigued at the prowess and potential this rogue wolf showed. Kali's claws ticked against the cracked linoleum and dirt floor whilst Ennis' nose took a lungful of the scent of fear and desperation. "He was alone, completely alone," Ennis sounded impressed.

"These hunters were young, cocky," Kali retorts with no natural edge in her voice.

"It isn't much to marvel at". Deucalion huffs through his nose and taps his cane. He emerges from the shadows of the abandoned warehouse.

"Kali, don't be so critical, it's not every day you turn into a werewolf". He tilts his head as the metallic tang of blood further invades his nostrils.

Deucalion could taste the viscous liquid in his mouth.

"He took out 14 trained hunters. Young or not, it's not often a puppy so vicious is placed on our laps. There is potential," Deucalion's nose points to the still-hot-edged hole in the corrugated tin wall. Blood stained the razor edges with pieces of what used to be a sweater danced listlessly in the night breeze. "Let's give the poor boy our thanks," Deucalion says. Ennis grins with his bottom canine and pokes his upper lip. Kali makes her way out from the clawed-out hole-in-the-wall and towards the forest it frames. A growl rumbles in Ennis' throat but as quick as it came it was gone and he bounds towards the woods as well.

Deucalion wraps his hands around the top of his cane, shoulders adjusting themselves as he feels the bones in his face shift to make way for a more monstrous visage. That was of less importance, the way his neck thickens with muscles was what he had aimed for.

The beast of an alpha unhinges his jaw and throws his head back to release a bloodcurdling song and his generals turn it into a symphony of horror.

The wood creatures scurry. Those without wings find themselves burrowing into the ground or hiding in the hollows of trees. One, however, stayed frozen in his stone fortress.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your legs and your head between your knees, you stayed rigid despite the howling that reaches your pointed ears. Your mouth was agape and drool was dripping down but your fangs were uncomfortably piercing your upper lips every time you attempted to close them.

It was a pathetic sight but no one was here to see your shame except for that dead coyote that lay inches away from your feet and — Oh, god, you were going to throw up.

The sound continues to echo and you clasp your hands over your ears. Your claws dig into your scalp as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Somewhere inside of you, something thrashes violently at the rope you call self-restraint.

It’s compelled to follow the call. It knows there’s safety in numbers but it's so primal you feel as though it’s something akin to a caveman more than anything poetic.

A moronic impulse just to survive. To find more like you but that was just the blood lust talking to you, of that you were certain.

You were a danger to people. You could never rejoin society. You were a monster.

‘They deserved it,’ something growls into your ear. You swear you can feel its breath and the stench of gore and blood that burns your cheek. The claws dig deeper into your head as your heartbeat quickens.

‘They wanted to hurt us, kill us, we returned the favour’. You think you're ultimately losing it at this point. Perhaps in some feeble attempt to grasp this batshit insane scenario of you gaining some supernatural ability to kill 14 people — and a coyote — your brain has fragmented to cope.

Beads of red soak your hair and traverse the slopes and planes of your head to your neck. It further soaks your ripped sweater, and the weight of it makes your skin crawl. The tip of your curved claws floats just inches from your skull. Then, bile rises to your throat and your body swings forward in a tumultuous motion. Knees banging onto the floor and palms ripping open on the jagged earth; your mouth burns as lunch reintroduces itself.

Your chin was already soaked from saliva and hastily wiped away gore so, at this point, the coyote was looking better than you and it was mauled to death. The howling reaches your ears again. Your head hangs, eyes burning viciously as the beast within you digs its teeth into your shoulder. Its mouth fills with blood as it laughs. It's a sickening sound that muffles your hearing. It was far too proud to admit it's drowning in your blood as it cackled. A reflection of you, yes? That's Kali's initial thoughts when she finds you. Too lost in your own world to even notice her shadow as it casts over you. This was the "beast" that ripped apart those hunters? On his hands and knees with his own vomit inches away. She wasn't convinced. Then, a shadow consumes hers. She turns her shoulders away and her ruby eyes veil themselves as Deucalion passes her. Ennis is further away from the mouth of the cave, senses sharpening to ensure that they are uninterrupted. Deucalion's shoes come into your peripheral. Your eyes zero in on the scratches on the leather, the creases where he'd bend them. They smell worn but not old enough to indicate he was someone who took care of his things so meticulously. He wasn't careless or crass though he was no gentleman either. The tip of his cane is capped with red. The plastic itches your skin as it trails up the bulging veins of your neck. The sting of metal causes your nose to twitch but the man before you, his presence is so heavy your thighs give out.

A sense of mirth fills him as you settle on your calves, head so obediently balancing on his cane as if entranced by the sight of him. The truth is, it's his scent that makes your heart calm. His and the other two Alphas but mostly his. That hindbrain personality of yours wants nothing more than to show off your stomach.

It knows the safety these alphas can provide and the dangers if they choose to reject you. "Rough night?" He jests with no expectations of laughter. Deucalion's cane meets the ground and your head lolls forward. "I must say, you don’t look like someone who's capable of such carnage. A lot to, stomach in?”

Your brows furrow and you lick your lips for a moment to open your mouth but freeze as you realise your teeth are no longer so sharp it cuts your tongue or gums. Running your tongue over your teeth, however, elicits a more visceral disgust as you find bits of fur and blood so no answer comes from you.

The Alpha — how you know his title is a mystery to yourself — tilts his head in the direction of the coyote.

“Such brutality. Surely, it didn’t mean to offend you,” Kali fails to suppress the tugs of a smile. She’s quite an intimidating figure as she stands at the mouth of the cave with her red eyes and dark hair.

“. . .It. . .” Deucalion faces you, silent.

A gulp, a breath, then an answer from your dyed lips: “It growled. . .at me”.

There’s a beat of silence, the forest does not extend its courtesy to fill it with ambience. Deucalion breathes sharply through his nose, a huff of laughter that makes Kali’s unimpressed gaze turn indignant.

“It challenged you and you rose to the occasion.”

You would argue it was just scared of a monster trying to crawl into its cave but this man flashes his teeth in a smile and the words die in your throat.

“Deucalion,” Kali whispers urgently.

“He’s an Omega. A Rouge — He didn’t raise to any occasion,” Deucalion squares his shoulders and the way the black shirt hugs him calls for your attention.

His shoulders are broad, chest firm and studiously presented with his perfect posture. Everything about his torso seemed unjustly perfect and your fingers twitch to feel every curve and bulge of muscles he is clearly packing.

“He has potential. Any newly turned wolf can maul a coyote, perhaps a camper or two, but to successfully decimate an entire group of hunters? That takes more than luck, dearest Kali, that? That takes talent”.

Your breath hitches as the shoes within your peripheral crease. Deucalion’s crouching, you wonder if he has a short Achilles tendon but all thoughts fly out of your brain as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He pulls and pulls until your neck and shoulders are arched, teeth-gritting and eyes stinging at the strength he is casually displaying.

“Some new blood will do wonders for our pack. I have plans for this”

He leans in and you hold your breath as his breath spreads over your throat. Something in his chest rumbles, the display is forced but he knows you would have just as easily obeyed if asked. This was an excuse to show you his prowess — and to touch you.

“. . .precious puppy".

It seemed a mystery to you. One moment you were kneeling at his feet in a cave and now you were watching him folding his jacket over the chair. It had been exactly 3 months since they found you and took you in as the only Beta of the pack. Deucalion whispers that he has a plan for you but Kali seems unconvinced at the entire plot. Though, as unwilling as she was, Kali trained you with Ennis without fail. "Deucalion's orders", Ennis answered after you had completed a particularly gruelling endurance test. You force your arms to wipe the sweat off your brow, stretching out your legs in front of you as Ennis tosses a towel your way. "But. . .what am I training for?" Kali rolls her eyes, her pin-straight hair impeccably swaying with every shake of her head. Seriously, she looked like she belonged in a shampoo commercial.

"A test. Deucalion will test you, he says. Don't ask why", Kali wonders about it herself. What happened to the ' All Alpha ' pack that Deucalion boasted about? Weakening the link now seemed unreasonable. There was nothing special about you, Kali's eyes convey those very words despite her mouth not once parting. Judging by Ennis' shrug when you gave him a questioning look, it seemed as though this was something even his generals of pain had no inkling of. That conversation was 2-days ago. Today, a random breezy Wednesday of all days, he had called for you into his office. His room was dark. Ennis' lessons about using your newfound heightened senses came in handy. The icy blues of your eyes dart here and there in an attempt to spot Deucalion. How strange, where could he hide? There was a desk across the door and a few shelving cabinets behind that. A few rugs and some office chairs where office chairs are usually found.

Seriously, a man of his stature should not be able to hide so well. A whizzing sound reaches your ears too late and then a sharp sting is felt on your leg. Hissing, you turn frantically to find the source. Your cut was already healing but the surprise of it left you more startled than you'd like to be. "Even with eyes, people can still be so blind", Deucalion's voice calls from behind you. Spinning, you try to put him in your sights but he's already moving into the darker shadows. "(Y/N), I expected better from you." He's observing the edge of his blade. The scent of you fills invades his senses and Deucalion turns his back towards you to gently place his cane atop his desk. "I . . . I need to work on it, I know", your words lack conviction. Like you're unsure of what you're saying. You are. Did it have to be so obvious though? Deucalion motions you forward with a curl of his finger. The sound of your footsteps pauses a few paces from him. So he turns and he can see the rush of blood to your face, the way your heart picks up its pace just fuels his ego and fills his cock. Even with his eyes, the world had never bared more to him than before.

He could no longer gaze at the light dancing on water, watch the sunset paint the skies with its final bow to the world or even gaze at anything people could consider beautiful. But he was stronger for it. A demon wolf like himself; what right did he have gazing at anything remotely beautiful?

Meanwhile, in your corner of the world, the sight of the low v-line cut of his shirt has you gulping thickly. The venom enhanced your biology, that was a given. Ennis tells you about your heightened senses along with your endurance, durability and all that. He even tells you about a wolf's metabolism. How gaining muscles comes easy to werewolves but surely, even without being born as a wolf, Deucalion would still be a goddamn underwear model. His strong arms brace themselves on the edge of the desk and his hips lean backwards. His shoulders raising causes the flesh of his tits to squeeze together. 'Oh Christ', you thought as you avert your eyes. They were right there, practically looking at you first! The jump of your heartbeat prods him to ask; "Is this the reason you struggle to learn your lessons, (Y/N)?"

He can taste your arousal on his tongue. It burns as his lips part into a toothy smile. It's far too charming. Once again, he'd make such a good underwear model it's quite frankly ridiculous.

"Do you what would've happened if my blade was coated with wolfsbane?" Your mouth opens but all that comes out are pathetic ' uhms ' and ' uhs '. Deucalion's smile sours and he pushes himself from the table to instead circle you. Despite his presence being very tangible right now, your stomach twists every time he slinks out of view. He's a true wolf; a hunter in every sense of the word.

Realistically, every footfall should make a noise despite the rug muffling it. Your sensitive ears should hear the gentle crush of fibres below his soles. Nothing. His gait is so eerily ghostlike your ears try to pick up on anything else. A shadow slips on your right and your eyes chase him but that was reprimanded with another stinging. Your yelp makes him reply with a condescending tutting noise. So incredibly British it would be comical if it wasn't so degrading and hot.

The sleeve of your shirt soaks up the blood that manages to thread out from the now-healed cut. "That's twice now you've been cut with wolfsbane", his voice echoes from everywhere and each time you turn to chase another cut forms on your body. It's humiliating. Painful. Tear-inducing. You were being punished like a bad dog. Pain dished out in tiny but venomous lashes that couldn't really hurt you but the aftershocks make your breath turn ragged.

"You killed 14 trained killers that were blooded into their families by the time they were 15 years old. You were enrolled in university" You scoff, twisting your neck and hissing as you were swiped at. The back of your shirt is decorated by the slices just like the back of your jeans and thighs and sides and neck. . .

"I dropped out", you should bite your tongue. Deucalion's dark chuckle earns shivers up your spine but no lashing. "You've the energy to be quip but can't answer a simple question every werewolf knows", your jaw clenches, "I'm new to this!" His cane makes contact with your thighs, the flexible metal meeting flesh and your hand moves faster than your brain can respond. The cane strains between your hand and Deucalion's, a wrench from you and suddenly he steps closer. It seemed as though you were intent on suffocating him with you. The carpet is stained with splatters of your blood and now, your claws dig into your palm as it holds his cane. Defiantly, you meet his gaze. Those pretty lashes that frame your eyes are now buried by your furrowed brows. He can tell your eyes are glowing. The grinding of your fangs as they tear through your gums makes him flash his teeth in a warning.

Those pillowy lips shield that brash display but you still hold your gaze. So defiant, annoyed, humiliated? Deucalion has killed far more talented werewolves for less disrespect. None have ever faced him so crassly. "Is this what they were greeted with?" Your silence lights a fire within him. Pathetic enough you don't even know what wolfsbane does to your kind, but now you dare halt his lessons to stare him down? "A silent killer. A puppy who massacred trained killers by himself left nothing but torn limbs and innards. Is that who is in front of me now? A monster, who doesn't even know what can kill him and what can't. Do you know what people call that?"

Deucalion pulls his cane free from your grasp and in a swift motion points the blade under your jaw. Gasping, your feet pace backwards but Deucalion simply marches forward. Tiny as the blade is, with an arm rippling with supernatural strength even a sharpened stick can be deadly. Perhaps you'd really crossed a line. Ennis and Kali had been ' nice ' to you out of obligation. Deucalion, so far, had simply watched from afar as you trained. You were still so human despite the weeks that have passed. Perhaps the pack hadn't been clear enough with the pecking order. That had to be fixed. If Deucalion's plans were to work, he'd need you to fully understand the gravity of your change.

The edge of his desk digs into your ass and you've half a mind to turn and crawl over it to put more distance. Something tells you turning your back on Deucalion was a death sentence. So you don't. You freeze as the tip of his blade digs into the underside of your chin. "An idiot. A moron. A beast that only functions on impulse. The only thing that separates us from common wolves is the fact that we're smart, eliminating that element means you're nothing more than a common bitch on the side of the streets". His hand slams next to you. You're so close to him that you can see his red eyes through the dark lenses that balance so studiously on his nose bridge. "My pack has no room for mindless, moronic, mutts", Deucalion twists the cane and the grimace on your face does little to soften the snarl that threatens to contort his visage. He can feel the way your flesh desperately tries to heal the wound. Trying to close around his knife and stop the stuttering stream of red that wets his fingers. His nostrils flare. All he can smell is you. On the carpet, on the microscopic canyons of his skin that flood with your crimson. God, the sweat that teases him as it slips down your chest has him feeling as though he is basking under the summer sun. His insides were burning and he retaliated by hitching the blade deeper into you. " Ah! " His knee forces your legs apart and jerks upwards. The feeble attempts at pushing it away are cut short as he forces your neck to stretch further and further away, back bowing and arching into him as your hands scramble to balance yourself. "This gets you hard?"

There was no way to hide. His knee digs into your crotch and you've no way to even muffle the noise that slips out. It's high and whiny, and the stretching of your neck does little to help. Deucalion scoffs at the lack of denial. "Unbelievable", he pretends to sound mad but Deucalion can barely fight back a grin. "Don't tell me the reason you fail to even answer a simple question is because Ennis and Kali don't rub your slutty cock enough?" He doesn't wait to hear a response. Deucalion simply places a hand on your waist and begins moving your hips. It's a bumpy ride and your hips move so mechanically it reminds you of embarrassingly grinding on a pillow to "practice" riding.

It makes you less heated and more reclusive. Deucalion doesn't give in to the resistance you give him and simply applies more strength to move those impressive hips on his leg. "Fuck", you wish the ground would swallow you whole. This was anything but sexy, actually, everything so far has NOT been sexy but fuck why was your dick filling up? Your transformation must have heightened your penchant for pain too because this is ridiculous. Is it because your fear has lessened? Now, a cut won't get infected or need to be tended to thanks to your supernatural healing. Even so, fear was still very much in the equation. Deucalion was one intimidating man and a frightening werewolf. Gazing up at the ceiling you stiffen your hips but Deucalion digs his nails into your skin and you gasp. "Shit!" Deucalion relishes the way your entire body seemed to jerk and twitch. He's especially keen on the way the tent in your jeans strains further.

"Poor puppy, all trapped in those constricting jeans". The breath of relief comes after your head limply hangs as your chin is finally free. Deucalion makes a show of placing his cane right next to you, right within reach if you dared to disrespect him again.

You let your gaze linger on it though something else calls for your attention and somehow, it's not the raging hard-on you have being grinded on. Deucalion's lips crash into yours, and the prickling sensation of his beard has you whimpering. With both hands on you he all but manhandles you down until you're laid on the desk. He bites down on your lower lip meanly, making you gasp and moan as he palms your crotch. "Fuck, fuck", you're more than confused but a part of you is so pleased with this turn of events. Not just because your throat wasn't ripped apart by Deucalion or the fact that you're getting action from a man worthy of being plastered on a Calvin Klein billboard. It's the scent of satisfaction that's coming off of him in waves. The barely there rumbling in his chest sounds like a purr. The big hands that move and puppeteer you. The body that eclipses the ceiling from you. Deucalion is your alpha. The strongest. The deadliest. Fuck, even a devoted priest would drop to their knees in your position. "Wolfsbane is poison", Deucalion might as well give this a go. Even a slut deserves a fair chance at education. Your eyes are fuzzy, barely there, but they sharpen into focus as he undoes your pants. There's no grace in the way he pulls your cock into the open. He grasps your length firmly, bordering on pain judging from your hiss.

"You do know what poison does to someone, yes?" You nod frantically. Those rigid hips suddenly began canting upwards, thrusting up into his fists as Deucalion bared his teeth to your throat. Instinctually, you moan and turn your head to the side. Submitting to your alpha with no verbal command. Seems as though you knew hierarchy after all. "Good boy", his voice dropped octaves and you're desperate in your need for release. There's something heavy in the air, burning delicious of bergamot and pine. Curls of wood shavings appear as your claws dig into the desk. "Aconit Napel Bleu Nordique, it's a favourite of hunters", Deucalion's voice silences the noises around you. He's effectively made so you only see, hear, smell and feel him. His thumb presses on your wet slit and you curse, unable to move as he continues to mottle your neck with his fangs. "Focus, you're obviously in need of extra help in the learning department, don't make me go back to before", your eyes split open and the cane next to you seems to mock you as it shimmers wetly with your blood. "Puh - poison, bad, mfh! Wolfs, wolfsbane", Deucalion would coo but you haven't deserved that just yet. "Tell me the name of it", your confusion is palpable. "Wolfsbane", he pulls away from you. His hands leave your cock twitching on your stomach as he sighs. "The scientific name, puppy. I just said it", he takes his shades off and neatly places it next to his cane. Fuck. You get on your elbows, reeling from the too much pleasure transitioning to not enough pleasure. He's patient as he adjusts his sleeves and spreads your legs. You mistake it as him simply being kind. Big mistake.

A claw traces the underside of your cock. "Name?" "Wuh - Wait! I -", he frowns. The claw is now just under the mushroom head and your heart triples in speed. "(Y/N)". "A - Accut - No, uhm, Accunit Napal Blue Nordic?"

God, Deucalion thinks. He better be glad he's as endearing as he is stupid.

He wraps his fingers around your dick and pumps nice and slow. The sagging of your body on his desk almost makes him feel pity. "Now I know you know the answer to this next question", dread fills you once again but Deucalion rub his palm across your tip and your toes curl. "I heard Kali teach you a lesson on it. The types of wolfsbane. You did wonderfully then and you'll do the same now". That lesson had been damn near 3 weeks ago! It wasn't like they provided lecture slides for you in this pack. You chew on the insides of your cheeks, chest heaving as you try to push the pleasure away to think. Fuck, how could think right now!? How the hell does Deucalion know how to give hand jobs this good!? He squeezes and you squeak at his reminder. "Purple", that was easy and so Deucalion simply loosens his grip. "Blue?" He cocks a brow. "Are you asking me or telling me, puppy?" You take a breath, " M'tellin".

Deucalion begins stroking you at a steady pace. Your precum wets his palm enough but he spits on your dick (with insane accuracy) and the sloppy sensation makes you groan in ecstasy. "Fuck, another one - Nghah! Fuck! Yellow!" "Gooood boy". Deucalion rewards you. His hand must've been crafted by some sort of sex god because the way he has you writhing and moaning is not normal. Deucalion says nothing, simply looking down at you as you let out wanton moans. He's suddenly struck with the want to see you in every detail. His vision is warped and bloodied. More like a tactile vision, beauty is no longer at the forefront. He thought he had accepted it. But now he wants to see it all. The fading bruise on your hips that is shaped like his hands. The hickeys on your neck, the bitemarks, the scratches — even if the only thing left is the shredded threads. He wonders how handsome you look with your face all screwed up in pleasure. Deucalion decides to distract his thoughts with your taste instead. He leans over you, claiming your lips and swallowing the sinful noises. When you cum, it's no surprise that you cum hard. You swear you saw nothing but white and separate from the kiss to call out for him. Deucalion continues jerking you off despite you cringing and attempting to twist away from him. "Uh-ah, you were so good, puppy. You should be rewarded for every correct answer, don't you think so?" "I - I need a second to breathe — !" "Nonsense, I can't possibly be that cruel to you, puppy".

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Show Me How ❞ [part 2]

Deucalion x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut, gore & violence | sub.bttm.reader (AMAB) | wc: 7k | not proofread

warnings: the alpha still haven’t gone through their redemption arc, anal fingering, anal sex, size kink, deucalion transforming into his demon wolf form in the middle of sex, tummy bulge, creampies, biting kink (?)

summary: you were given a task — Deucalion says you're ready despite the doubts the others have. you're determined to show them, show Deucalion, just how good of a puppy you were.

author's note: this is for @malewh0re, ly bestie!! I'm trying to change the POV from you to he/they and YN's so bare with me folks

masterlist; part 1

“It doesn’t make any sense”, she whimpers out. Her grip on his biceps tightens as she glances over her shoulder. The moon was shy tonight — a shame. A horned moon was supposed to decorate the sky; a curve of light from the heavens peeking from behind a dark curtain of night. “What doesn’t make sense?” Amy looks at him incredulously. Legs slow as she pulls her arm away from his grip. He raises his brows in question. She crosses her arms, her lips pinched like she was tasting something sour. “Seriously?” Amy’s tone is nothing short of scathing. “What?” He shrugs, pocketing his hands. 

“No — Are you being serious?” Scoffing, he lifted his shoulders and let his hands fall limply to his side. “Look at your shirt!” and he does. It was soaked in blood, sticky —  mildly uncomfortable —  but it wasn’t as though he was drenched in it. Probably not the best night to have worn a white shirt; was it his fault that the hunter blocked his claws with his neck?  No. Absolutely not. It wasn’t his fault the huner was a blood fountain. (Y/N) considers himself lucky that all he got was the initial spray from the slice and nothing more. Amy was not so lucky. The poor girl had been right behind the man and as he twisted, his arteries aimed right at her.

Was that the reason she was so hysterical? 

“Nothing a cold wash can’t fix”, he assures. Amy grabs a fistful of her brown hair in each hand. “He wasn’t supposed to be there”. He tilted his head as Amy paced. Her already dirty sneakers get muddier with each, pointed, stomp. It’s been raining a lot as of late. With how heavy the clouds look, it seems that tonight won’t be any different. “The hunter?” he pries. Amy is holding herself back from going ‘ uh, duh! ‘ but her eyes still send daggers (Y/N)’s way despite the restrained nodding. The smile on his face belittles her. Gold bleeds into her brown eyes and she snaps her teeth at him.

“Amy”, (Y/N) groans.

“I’m not crazy! It doesn’t make sense!” His hands raise and they settle on her shoulders. Amy shrugs them off. “No! Don’t do that!” “You’re right!” Amy finally pauses, her heart rate slowly mellowing down as she takes a breath. (Y/N) continues; “You’re right, Amy. It doesn’t make sense why he’s here but let’s not pretend he needs any���. She sniffles, brows furrowing as she stutters out a question. “What are you saying, (Y/N)?” “Werewolf hunters kill werewolves,” she looks at the canopy of trees and mutters something under her breath. (YN) spares a glance just to see if the moon is peering down. No luck. There was no time to be disappointed — Amy’s in his face.

“They have a code. They don’t kill shifters just for the hell of it”. She places her hand on his chest and sighs. 

“You’re new to this whole thing but trust me, it really doesn’t make any sense at all. They only hunt those who hunt humans,” as she lifts her head to make sure this goes through his head she freezes.

The corners of his lips struggle to compose themselves from revealing a toothy grin. “You believe that shit?” 

Amy pulls herself away from you as if you burned her. 

“I have to believe in it”. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s life or death, shithead. It protects our kind from being mindlessly killed”.

She hates this expression on his face. The minute raise of his brow coupled with the upside-down grin. She especially hates how small it makes her feel. 

“You think this is funny? A man died tonight!”

“A hunter died tonight."

Your tone is so sharp Amy flinches. “Yesterday? It was Kevin, the pack emissary. Last week? The Linetti sisters and the month before it was their goddamn parents. Don’t pretend that this piece of shit didn’t deserve this, he was probably the one that killed them”.

“You don’t know that!” 

“And you? You know with absolute certainty that he didn’t kill them? That he just came over to this town, stalked us for the whole day only to corner us because he wanted to talk with your father? Come on, Amy.” Amy crosses her arms. 

“I know they have a code”. She can’t even look at him. Glaring petulantly at the wet leaves like a spoiled child. The huff of disbelief that follows makes her press her lips together. “I may be new to this but I’m not that naive. Wake up, Amy. It’s us or them in their eyes. It always has been. If you’re too blind to see that. . .”

The moonlight on your skin makes your gums itch.

“Are you really fit to lead the pack?” 

Given the state the two of them were in upon returning to the safe house, the pack was up in arms at the news. “You did what!?” 

Victor is a mountain of a man. His brow bone is low and his eyes downturned; He’d look good with a full beard but the man’s shirts are steamed every day. No wrinkle in sight. His shoes shined, his salt and pepper hair trimmed. Even his goddamn cuticles looked tended to. When he’s yelling — like he is now — he resembles more of a man than he pretends to be. The lines across his forehead and the skin that folds over as he furrows his brows make him resemble a wolf with his hackles raised.

“I did what I had to do,” (Y/N) replied.

Whispers spread all around. As he glances at the pack he couldn’t help but scoff. Victor’s voice makes him tear his eyes away from the pitiful sight.

They had the numbers but would not rise to the challenge. Were they really content with that? With an alpha, and their future alpha, who teaches them to tuck their tails in and file their fangs down?

“You put the pack in danger, my daughter in danger! Do you know what this means for us!?” 

“It means we didn’t roll over and show our belly! It means we fought back! They hit us first!”

Victor nearly shakes from fury. (Y/N) swears he can see steam coming out of his ears. Here he was,  the alpha, sweating and screaming at a Beta in front of his dwindling pack. They were huddled in the safe house, underground like naked fucking molerats.

The ones that weren’t here were either buried in the ground already or had chosen to leave the state. 

He could hear how frantic everyone’s heartbeats were. Hell, he could even hear how their eyes kept shifting around and the way they kept craning their necks to stare at the only door in the room as they waited with bated breath for the big bad hunters to slaughter them.

Amy can see it too as she stands on the slightly elevated platform that her father and (Y/N) were on as well. She’s just as pathetic as the rest of them.

Deucalion was right. Those who don’t seize power will always be squashed by those who do. 

Where was their ambition? Their goddamn want for survival? Amy’s eyes meet (Y/N)’s.

“They killed your emissary. Strung his headless body to a tree. They killed your pack members one by one, I didn’t think we were supposed to just let them when they cornered us”. “There’s no proof it was hunters,” more murmurs erupt. Victor’s anger wavers and the scent of uncertainty spreads. Victor squares his shoulders and flashes his red eyes. A last-ditch attempt to quell the rising volume of voices. While Amy keeps on staring, entranced at the darkening bloodstains on (Y/N)'s shirt. She watches as his fingers curl — her hearing muffles as she notices how in control he is.

When (Y/N) had come to their pack, he was charming and sweet. Amy recalled Laurel and Lottie — the Linetti sisters, her childhood friends — teasing her when they caught her laughing too hard at a lame joke he made. He’d told them that he had been bitten. Stumbling back drunk from a college party, tackled to the ground by a Rogue werewolf, and escaping with his life and a bite. The alpha had been responsible enough to come back for him to teach you to control, however, something happened to him. You’d been vague, but Victor told Amy how melancholic his eyes were and left that questioning line.

Now.

Now, his eyes were defiant, not melancholic —  hell, not even regretful. Blood still stains his hands and Amy wonders why hasn’t he scrubbed it off like she had. 

How could he stand it? The remnants of someone’s life decaying on your skin. Death lurking still within your shadow. Her breathing turns shallow and she struggles to get more air into her lungs. With every blink, the faces of her dead packmates flash behind her eyelids like fireworks. Dismembered, hung, bled-out, and grotesquely displayed. All works of hunters, according to (Y/N). Amy remembers how much venom dripped from his words as he spoke of them. She assumed the reason was because they killed his alpha. But then, he was so sweet when she wrapped her arms around him to ease that scent of ire away.

He always had such a faraway look in his eyes whenever hunters were mentioned. She saw the same expression tonight after he had mercilessly torn that man’s throat apart. The hunter, who identified himself with the name Charles, confessed he’d only stopped to ask about Victor. It made her tense, (Y/N) however? The man didn’t even pull out the blade he had hidden on him. Charles didn’t even use threats, raising his hands as a white flag as (Y/N) circled him like a starved dog. 

“You know what I do”, Charles says.

“You know what we are”, (Y/N) replies. 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to hurt you, I heard about the killings —  I’ve only come to help”. Amy chews on her lips. He already knew her father by name, and with how antsy everyone already was bringing this man back seemed unwise. “Bullshit”, (Y/N) growls out. She reaches the back of his shirt yet her fingers only grasp air. The next thing she knew, the hunter spun like a ballerina. His throat erupts blood like a volcano.

“We will not go to war with hunters. We’ve done nothing wrong!” Victor bellows. It silences the initial hubbub. The people still spoke through glances. 

“You’re pathetic”, Amy hears (Y/N) hiss out. She reaches for her father's arm but feels nothing but air as Victor grabs the front of his shirt. Victor’s yell caused an instant panic as chairs clattered to the floor and screams bounced from the walls. Amy stayed frozen with her outstretched hand. 

(Y/N) held Victor by his neck, the veins of his arm bulging with more strength than the average shifter possessed. Victor swipes and claws futilely at his hands. His feet kick as they try to find purchase of the floor. 

Sputtering, gasping, choking. 

“This is your alpha?” his voice silences the room all at once. It commanded with certainty and sharpness. “Pathetic. All of you are, but you especially”. Victor’s veins burst in his eyes as the pressure of (Y/N)’s grip builds. Victor feels his claws tear through his ribcage, acutely aware of his fingers effortlessly traveling through flesh. When his claws reach his racing heart, he swears the movement turns kinder. They still pierce through, however, and the sight was anything but kind.

His pack cries out at the sight of him nearly elbow-deep within their alpha’s chest cavity as (Y/N) holds him up. What brutality. 

Victor sees himself in the boys' eyes. His breath escapes him as he sees the webs of crimson turn blue into red. (Y/N) never break his gaze, allowing him at least that much respect even if he didn’t deserve it. The rush he felt as Victor faded away was indescribable.

Ichor flowed through his body, beginning from the hand that crushed his heart. Deucalion wasn’t kidding when he told him how euphoric it was to take another alpha’s power. 

Amy can’t remember what happens next. 

Everything is a blur.

She doesn’t know why her body is so heavy as she crawls toward her father’s and doesn’t understand how time just decides to slow. Blood splatters on her cheeks, blood of the people who had been by her side throughout her whole life. But Amy doesn’t spare them a glance. Even when her ex-boyfriend, Jake, tries to grab her shoulder to take her to safety, she simply shrugs him off.

When his head rolls in her path? She offers a sob but continues to reach Victor.

As she strokes his hair in her lap she’s reminded of (Y/N)’s random disappearances.

Had they even asked for his alibi the nights their packmates got offed? She can only recall defending him when people muttered about the timing of the killing coincidentally beginning when (Y/N) joined the pack.

Laurel and Lottie had been beheaded the night (Y/N) stood her up for their movie date with her. He told her his alarm didn’t go off, and she forgave him when she was promised a more intimate movie date another night.

Laurel and Lottie were rightfully withdrawn after they found their parent’s headless bodies at home. But they did make a show of pulling Amy away from him. Their eyes were distrustful, and Amy couldn’t understand why they never said anything to her.

Did they think she wouldn’t have listened because she was too in love? Was that why they died? Because she was too blinded by his charming smile and funny jokes?

Sound comes to her all at once. Amy stares at (Y/N) 's back as he crushes Rosa’s head with his hands. The floor can barely be seen with the amount of blood and gore on it. The walls with claw marks and broken chairs tossed around in desperate attempts to fight (Y/N). 

“You’re a monster," Amy whispers. The door has bodies piled against it. She doesn’t know how she isn’t screaming as she recognizes every one of their faces. 

“Nah”. His shirt was soaked through. It was like he was bathed in blood. The lights flicker with each step he makes towards Amy. She can’t move. 

Finally, he crouches in front of her, straddling her father’s chest with no remorse on his face.

“I’m just stronger than you."

Amy can’t stand how cocky his grin is. Those sickening red eyes. “I gave this pack chance after chance to get a backbone to kill those hunters. Prove something to me. Show me you were willing to do whatever it takes to survive,” Amy follows his gaze and does nothing to stop her tears from flowing at the massacre.

“You were the ones that dug your graves before you were dead.” She sobs as he grabs her neck.

“Dad, help me, please! Dad!” You grimace, snorting at her pleading as she shakes Victor's shoulders.

“Jeez, at least die with some dignity”.

The last thing Amy felt before she wilted away were his claws deep within her chest, draining her of everything that made her human. She drops to the ground, her cloudy eyes staring at the ceiling right beside her father. 

Kali furrows her brows as Ennis slides a basket of fries and burger over the desk. The potatoes were seasoned to hell and back with cajun and a little limp but appetizing. The burger partially wrapped in foil, however, was less so. The bread was softening —  Kali’s nose curled at the missing chunk.

“Really?” Kali scoffs. Ennis feigns innocence by cocking a brow, swallowing the bite he took rather obviously. She crinkles her nose and slides the food back. 

“Not interested in eating something you already took a bite out of, babe.”

“C’mon, you gotta eat something. Don’t tell me you’re getting your stomach all up in knots over the puppy’s assignment,” she frowns at Ennis’ cockiness. Kali rolls her eyes and pushes herself to stand and walk away from Ennis. Tensions were already high due to (Y/N)’s radio silence. It was understandable considering how hidden Victor's pack was —  they didn’t grow their numbers by being brash and arrogant — but it could also be due to (Y/N) deciding to leave the pack.

He was new to their world. Sure, he was a rabid killing machine when he shifts —  Ennis AND Kali had to hold him back during his first full moon with them, it was not fun —  but he’s learned to control that now. He’s conscious during shifts and no longer mindlessly rampaging around. What if he ‘ wakes up ‘? 

He’s not valuable anyway, Kali thinks to herself. If anything, perhaps the pack would benefit if (Y/N) did flake out and fail. He was no alpha. Who gives a shit about (Y/N). Still, Kali’s not the kind of woman to just worry over insignificant worms so…perhaps Kali did give a shit about them. It’s been a while since she’s had a Beta around. It was nice to finally be an alpha without having to snap their teeth in retort. 

She refuses to acknowledge that she was growing a soft spot for you.

“Do you always ruminate so loudly, Kali?” Deucalion’s voice made her breath hitch but Kali would swear up-and-down it was just him hearing things. He’s sat in the corner of the den, delicately replacing the tip of his cane in the armchair. “It’s about (Y/N),” Deucalion humms as he twists a new blade into place. He lifts it into the light. It glints mischievously at Kali — acting like it hears her every train of thought.  

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about our dearest puppy,” he says. Kali crosses her arms, facing Deucalion as she stands across from him. 

“Should I tell Ennis about your crush?” His teasing makes her grit her teeth. “As if, Deuc.” He exhales through his nose and then sets the cane down. Interlacing his fingers, he lifts his head in Kali’s direction. She vents her frustrations. “(Y/N) should be back by now. Unless he got roped into the pack and their ideals or ran away from our cause."

She glances out the window of the penthouse they were renting out. Victor's pack would have turned tail and run if they caught the scent of them — this town was just on the border of comfort but still a great distance away. “Well then, that wouldn’t be very clever of him.”

Kali scoffs at Deucalion’s words.

“Has he ever been known to be clever?” 

At that, Deucalion grins. No, (Y/N) wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed. The sluttiest maybe but Kali didn’t have to hear him talk about that. “He should have reported back days ago.”

A sharp ringing sound cuts the conversation short. Her head spun towards the direction of the phone; it was placed in the kitchen area where Ennis was. He picks up, his voice calming Kali's nerves as he answers curtly.

"Hello?"

"They didn't listen." Deucalion feels rather smug as he turns his attention back towards his cane. Kali blinked in surprise, moving one step forward but pausing — she could hear their conversation just fine from where she was.

"They didn't want to fight. Victor led them to a bunker underground".

"How the hell are you calling then? Did they chase you off?"

"And waste a perfectly good mass grave? No. I killed them. The hunters too." (Y/N) can hear Ennis' smile as he asks him about Victor. "He died first."

Kali can't believe her ears. She feels a sense of pride, a laugh of disbelief escaping her. Deucalion calls for Ennis and tells him to relay to (Y/N) about the next steps of their plan.

(Y/N) offers a smile to the cashier, placing his bag of chips and chocolate down. He greets (Y/N) with familiarity, asking him how his night was going and (Y/N) replies with a toothy smile. "Amy craving snacks again?" (Y/N) chuckles. "Yeah, we're having movie night ya' know, can't have that without something to nibble on".

"Did you get that, (Y/N)?" Ennis asks.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there. See you soon." The cashier snickers as he scans the snacks while (Y/N) pockets the burner phone.

"Was that Amy?" He purses his lips, cocking a brow in an almost grimaced expression. The cashier laughs; "I won't tell her. So, where are you meeting her?"

"I'm meeting him at the fancy hotel." He sputters, ears tinged red as he retracts his hand from the snacks he'd been passing off to (Y/N).

"You're fucking gay?" he says in that tone. (Y/N) could only stare at the fallen bag of chips with a long sigh escaping him. "Oh, come on, Bill, I was really starting to like you." Bill's disgust was so obvious it made his red eyes burn. "What the fuck!?" He trips over his feet at the sight, crawling backward to put as much distance as he can.

(Y/N) glances up at the corner, chuckling in amusement as he wags a finger at the unblinking camera. "You said that was broken, right?" "Dude, I — I didn't mean it that way. I swear! I just —" (Y/N)'s teeth snap together. Bill yelps, covering his head. "Yes! Yes! It's broken!" "Good." (Y/N) slides over the counter, ignoring the frightened screams that Bill makes as his boots land on the other side. (Y/N) reaches towards the box of condoms, swiping a few bottles of lube. He grabs the plastic bag, tossing everything in before patting Bill's head as he steps over him. "Men fuck other men, Bill. Get over it."

The hotel looked regal among the other buildings that surrounded it. With its cool beige colour and velvet red curtains. The glass doors had a doorman who was reserving his toothy smiles for guests as he nodded off from where he was standing. There was the gentlest twinkle of light from the chandelier that hung in the lobby. Whilst the downpour cast everything in blue and greys the hotel's interior was a dream. The doorman choked on a snore, his head lifting as (Y/N) walked in. He belatedly rushed out the greeting — (Y/N) offered a reply but he had more pressing matters at hand. He looked out of place. His hair was wet and the plastic bag he held under his jacket made him look suspicious. This wasn't that kind of hotel. The receptionist gives him their most courteous grin, asking him all the usual questions.

"Uh, yeah, I've got a room reserved under (L/N)".

He declined any help to get to the room and when asked if he needed any help with luggage, he simply glanced around with pursed lips. As he closed the door to the room behind him, he let out an impressive whistle at the size of it. Everything about it screamed luxury — it was no Four Seasons, but for a teeny city like this it was pretty damn impressive. It beats living with a bunch of other people his age in a dorm, that's for sure.

(Y/N) tossed the plastic bags of supplies onto the bed. Then, he shed his jacket, making a trail of clothes all the way to the grand bathroom. Deucalion seemed to be proud of him. The thought alone made shivers of pleasure run down his spine.

He rubbed his skin clean, getting the crusted blood under his nail and then the other crevices it managed to seep into. Then, he prepared the bath, just to try to calm himself down as much as he could.

Spoiler alert; when you're pumped up from absorbing the power from every pack member you killed and are now awaiting your alpha's praise.

It proves to be a challenge.

(Y/N) sighed, tossing his head back as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft, chewing on his lower lip. Another hand slides up to grab a handful of his pecs, squeezing and twisting the pert nipple. His knees spread, soapy water jostling around with each movement.

"Fuck," he hisses. Cock twitching and hips thrusting up within the water as his palm attempts to mimic Deucalion's skill. He would be so cruel, relentlessly toying with the mushroom head of his dick until (Y/N)'s sure he might just go insane. Deucalion would lather it in spit or lube or even his own cum, make it sloppy so he can relish in the squelching and whining (Y/N)'s body makes.

Deucalion would stroke and tug and squeeze but the second he feels (Y/N)'s body tensing, the hitch in his breath, the curl of his toes —

"Mfph." He's nearly curled over on himself in the tub. The mouth hung open and fangs appeared. His blood drips into the water as he holds onto the sides of the clawfoot tub.

His cock protests as it pulses and begs for release.

But (Y/N) knows better than to cum without Deucalion's explicit permission. Those " werewolf " lessons weren't just for his survival — Deucalion had a puppy to tame and he'd squeeze in such lessons whenever he could.

Until he finally understood that his body wasn't his.

This cock, this mouth, these nipples, his ass.

All Deucalion's.

(Y/N) catches his breath. His claws scrape the tub as he gulps down his saliva and his self-control.

Somewhere, on the floor of the room, the burner phone rings, and (Y/N) scrambles to get out of the tub. The wet footprints would be someone else's issue to deal with.

Deucalion's voice makes him freeze and for a moment, (Y/N) wonders if he heard his moaning, if he was in this room already.

"I'll be coming tomorrow night, you can enjoy the hotel, think of it as a part of your reward, (Y/N)."

"Will Kali and Ennis come along?"

He hears Deucalion hum in amusement.

"Do you not want them too?"

"...Not tomorrow night. I want my other rewards as well."

I've spoiled him, Deucalion thinks as he spreads his legs, readjusting his posture as his pants grow tight.

"You sound out of breath." (Y/N) knows what he's asking and steels his voice as he confesses that he had rushed to grab the phone from his discarded pants.

"No other reason?"

"No, sir."

"Hm."

(Y/N) walks back into the bathroom, hoping the sounds of his movement could make it easier to muffle the way his heart — and penis — still hadn't calmed down from his jerk-off session.

"I've been good, sir."

Deucalion knows he has, his precious puppy was such an obedient pet. Pliant and limp — addicted to Deucalion's taste.

But his puppy was grown now. He no longer bore those icy blues; he had the same eyes as alphas and he had earned it. Deucalion could never imagine his (Y/N) disobeying him, digging his heels into the ground as he snarls.

He'd seen it, during their first romp together, but that was different.

He never thought he'd see it again; (Y/N) was lying to him.

Not about the job well done. No, not that. But about being good.

"Prep yourself for me, puppy. When I get there, I want you kneeling on the bed, face down and back arched. Arms behind you."

Deucalion is not disappointed. The door to (Y/N)’s room is unlocked. The receptionist had been kind enough to lead him all the way here, flustered at Deucalion's smooth voice as he told them he was expected.

The door shuts in their face and Deucalion's grin is downright predatory at the whine that he hears.

"Champagne?" Deucalion places his cane down, his jacket being trapped over one of the chairs in the room. He picks up the bottle by its neck, taking a whiff of it. He wipes the condensation on the napkin that came with it.

Every move is a deliberate move to ignore (Y/N).

He’s silently watching Deucalion’s every move. His ass was presented and the arch of his back was boudair photo-worthy. Yet, his lover simply turns his back on him and pours himself a glass of champagne.

“You know we can’t get drunk.”

“It was complimentary.” (Y/N) stretches his fingers. His shoulders are beginning to ache from the lack of support. His knees shift on the bed, and the sound causes Deucalion to chuckle.

“Don’t be impatient —”

“Alpha, please.”

His back stiffens. He wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t expected (Y/N) to whine that title. Perhaps he’d gotten so used to Kali and Ennis who would rather choke on their own blood before calling him in such a way.

To be fair, any alpha would rather be beaten into submission before they do so.

But his sweet (Y/N) wasn’t just any alpha; he was Deucalion’s.

Wholy, fully, unfoundedly.

“I’ve been good,” he says. “Please, alpha. I need you so badly.”

Deucalion inhales and holds it for a moment. It seemed as though he was attempting to regain his composure and (Y/N) can't even fathom a situation where does. So, he turns his face into the pillows, spreading his knees further; he can feel the lube slide down his perineum and his heavy cock. It stains the sheets below him though that would just be the first few stains.

The hotel was going to need to buy a new bedsheet set by the end of this night.

Even with his vision obscured, (Y/N) can sense Deucalion making his way towards the bed. The fine hairs on his body stand in attention as the coolness of the champagne glass traces the outline of his pose. Deucalion can sense the jitters of gooseflesh spreading. He's awfully silent. Cool like the glassware he holds.

"I paid the bunker a visit," he murmurs. (Y/N) gasps as the liquid is poured onto his back, dripping down the curve of his spine and pooling around his neck. It almost tickles him. Deucalion's warm hands place themselves on the globes of his ass. He spreads them, his hot breath contrasting the champagne that trails down.

"You're a masterpiece, made just for me."

His fists shake as Deucalion's dexterous tongue takes a lick off his twitching hole. Deucalion groans, the taste of (Y/N) coupled with the lube and the champagne — it was heaven.

"My perfect monster, my bloodthirsty pet. You must have been magnificent. Did it feel good, darling?"

He nods, shivering at Deucalion's voice, his mouth, his claws leaving red welts down the sides of his body. The bed dips as Deucalion climbs it, digging his tongue deeper where he knows his boy is aching for him.

"S'good, so so good, alpha." (Y/N) tries to turn his head to catch a glimpse of Deucalion. His shoulder was mainly in the way, if he moved his arms he could probably have an unobscured view.

But he knew better than that.

"I wish you were there. I wish you'd seen me — Mfph!" Deucalion's glasses are askew, sliding down further down his nose. Those bloodshot eyes shone in the dim downlight of the lamps in the room. (Y/N)'s mimics it and his mouth feels entirely too empty.

Deucalion's tongue licks up the trails of champagne. He can taste the body soap you used, and a pleased rumble escapes his throat. Oh, he could just take one big bite out of him. He could taste (Y/N)'s need to please, his want to be filled, to be marked, to be claimed.

"I wanted you to see me, show you that I was so good, sir."

He finds the back of his neck and (Y/N) shudders. His lips trace the pumping pulse. His teeth drag along the vital junction of arteries.

One bite and Deucalion could end his existence.

(Y/N)'s never been so hard in his life.

Breathy moans are Deucalion's prize as he kisses and bites (Y/N)'s skin, leaving indents of his teeth —only sometimes breaking through the skin — and loving bruises.

His puppy's shuffling and shifting grow. Just like his frustrations. He backs up his plush ass onto Deucalion's pant-covered crotch. Then, he grinds and rubs — dirtying the front with lube.

Deucalion grips his hips and (Y/N) is reminded of the first time Deucalion gave him that handjob, that soul-stealing kiss; he thinks it's ironic.

"I thought I was supposed to be rewarded." There was the faintest whisper of a growl that followed his pout.

Ah, there it is.

That hardheadedness that all alphas get. The urge to raise your hackles and lick your teeth at the slightest whiff of displeasure. The urge to protect, to destroy —all that strength you've found yourself with comes with heightened emotions.

"Temper," he reminds with a flash of teeth. Deucalion's chest is pressed to his back; his knees are next to his calves.

"All good things come to those who wait —"

(Y/N)'s fingers curl on the loop of his pants and he tugs. It makes Deucalion lurch forward, bracing himself with his elbows.

"I've waited for weeks, pretending to be someone else and fulfilling your mission. Then, I waited for 24 more hours — I've waited enough."

His scent had more heat now. Much like Kali and Ennis'. A stinging sensation floods his nose. (Y/N)'s anger is simmering beneath his skin. Deucalion finds his indignation nothing shy of disrespect.

It was expected. But somehow, it grinds his gears nonetheless.

"You impatient little whore." Excitement thrums through his veins. (Y/N) turns his face away from Deucalion, hiding that pleased grin that turns into a shocked expression. His fingers are so long as they plunge into him.

"Oh, fuuuck," (Y/N) keens. His mouth hangs open as Deucalion pistons those digits in and out. They seem angry.

Good.

They should be.

Deucalion fucks like a beast when he needs to let off steam.

Exactly what (Y/N) needs to dispel this thrumming energy he has that makes him feel like he's a pin drop away from massacring the whole town.

Deucalion seems determined to punch out those pathetic "uhuhuhs" from (Y/N) with his fingers alone.

Two at first, then three, and when the fourth breaches (Y/N) tries to climb further on the bed. So Deucalion grabs his wrists and holds him there. (Y/N)'s fingers twitch and spasm, desperately grasping at whatever they can as he feels himself get spread by Deucalion.

"Yes, yesyesyes — Alpha, it feels s'good, t'good!"

' Look at him, writhing and moaning. Making sounds that would make a prostitute blush, ' a voice in his head leers.

God, he feels so tight. Gripping onto him like he never wants him to go —like he never wants to be empty anymore. Deucalion can feel something scratch at the surface of his skin. He could visualize the beast with its maw open and hungry.

When he pulls away from (Y/N), the boy drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

His chest heaves, eyes blearily gazing on the nightstand as he tries to make sense of why he is empty.

He doesn't need to wonder for long.

Deucalion is on top of him again, this time with his shirt off and his pants unzipped. His heavy cock grinds between (Y/N)'s ass. The slightest friction against his rim has him mewling.

The teeth of the zipper feel uncomfortable and the material of his pants digs into the backs of his thighs make him squirm — but when Deucalion's cockhead catches?

(Y/N) all but sings for him. There's pressure as Deucalion presses and presses and presses and —

Oh.

(Y/N) melts into the sheets. Deucalion's cock is fat and heavy, skinnier at the tip but thickening out at the base. His tip was a pretty shade of dusty pink and the veins that decorate the sides of it feel so good on his tongue. Deucalion slides in easily, his puppy taking him so smoothly as his velvety walls welcome him.

It takes everything inside of him not to give in. He sheaths himself until his hip is flushed against his plush backside. Despite the whining and desperate grinding, Deucalion simply pushes on his shoulder and presses down.

"I spoil you," Deucalion snarls. "Do you know how lucky you are to be able to act the way you do, demanding rewards as if you're in charge?"

His hips draw back and slam in. It has (Y/N) yelping as his ass jiggling from the force.

"You forget yourself. Every inch of your body is mine." Deucalion's pace is relentless. He pounds into (Y/N) with such power behind his hips it has the headboard banging into the ceiling.

Poor puppy. All he could do was grasp onto the bedsheets, ripping them as he jerked back and forth. His cock rubs on the bed while his rim stretches around Deucalion's cock.

His eyes roll back as he moans wantonly, toes curling and thigh shaking at the feeling of Deucalion taking him.

"Alpha — Mghah! Your cock feels suh-so good, s'fuckin' good," his voice calls for Deucalion's name but, Deucalion feels that beast again.

How dare he? Ordering him around. Stomping his foot on the ground like a petulant brat. Had Deucalion not showered him with enough care and devotion? Had he been inadequate in providing (Y/N) with everything he needed?

Something primal within him felt a need to prove something. To show (Y/N) that no one else could compare to him, the Alphas of Alpha. So his scent of displeasure completely disappears because it isn't fading as quickly as Deucalion would like.

"Hgkh!?"

The cock inside of him swelled.

Like.

Actually swelled.

(Y/N) tries to push himself onto his elbows but the hand on his back grows heavier too and the springs of the mattress creak in protest. There's a ripping sound, not the bedsheets although considering how split open he felt right now, (Y/N)'s sure the sheets could be a culprit.

But no, it isn't that. It's Deucalion's pants.

A grey-blue hand comes into his peripheral and (Y/N) only has a second to comprehend what's happening as it pulls him up so he's flushed against Deucalion's chest.

"Fuck! Fuck! Your cock — It's — Ah!" Deucalion laughs darkly as (Y/N) sobs openly. His tight little hole was being stretched open, it was as if Deucalion's cock had doubled in size and (Y/N) isn't even sure how it hadn't split him into two.

"You wanted your reward so badly," his voice was rougher. It was as if his vocal cords weren't meant for talking in this form. That seemed likely. Deucalion has an arm wrapped around (Y/N)'s neck while the other keeps him steady by holding his hips.

"Wah - What are you — !"

The demon wolf bites into (Y/N)'s shoulder. It makes him open his mouth in a silent scream as his cockhead relentlessly pounds into his prostrate. "Take it then. Take all of it like the greedy little slut you are."

Deucalion laps up the blood and his mouth guards the slowly healing wound, not letting the cool air sting it.

He can tell his puppy isn't there anymore. His head tossed back and eyes screwed shut as his cock spurts rope after rope of cum.

But his alpha wasn't done.

Deucalion stills for a moment, grinding his hips in a way that has (Y/N) breath stuttering.

"Deuc, Deucalion," he gulps as he desperately tries to get air into his lungs.

Then, Deucalion presses onto his stomach and (Y/N) feels his eyes roll back again.

"Oh shit!"

"I'm right there."

He didn't have to tell him; (Y/N) can feel it. Every press down has him seeing white again and Deucalion licks his teeth as his puppy cums again, impressed.

"S'fucking deep." Deucalion groans as (Y/N)'s shaky hands reach back to hold onto his shoulders.

Deucalion feels him tighten around him and he cums with a snarl that has (Y/N) mewling.

Even with his cock plugging up his hole, rivers of cum manage to leak and froth around Deucalion's cock.

"Fuh-fuckkk."

(Y/N) sniffles, feeling so full and satisfied and warm.

His relief is short-lived.

Deucalion's cock hadn't softened at all. He opens his mouth to ask — ask if he could pull out so he could see Deucalion's Demon Wolf form rather than just feel.

But he's pushed into the mattress again, Deucalion's large hand nearly dwarfing his head as he pulls out and thrusts back in with a loud groan.

"I'm not done with you yet, puppy."

Deucalion is diligent as he wipes away any traces of cum on his skin. The sun had risen a couple of hours ago and they finished just shy of it peeking up. (Y/N)'s body was a mess of claw marks, bites, and hickeys. Hand-shaped bruises on his waist, his ass, the back of his thighs; all slowly fading away but Deucalion feels such a deep satisfaction as he traces the scar that he had left on his shoulder.

He sure had done a number on his lover — not unprompted. Deucalion pauses as (Y/N) twitches, curling and twisting under the covers until he's comfortable enough to still.

With the light flooding in, he can make out the silhouette of his precious one. It's shaky and ever-shifting but there...there, he can see him,

The curve of his shoulders, the dip of his back, and those legs he could spend hours worshipping.

Deucalion lets his eyes attempt to make sense of the planes of (Y/N)'s face.

The slope of his forehead, his nose, and kiss-swollen lips...

Deucalion wipes his chest preciously, gazing down at him even with the sunrise view he had mere meters away if he lifted his head.

No. The sun pales in comparison to his (Y/N).

Deucalion presses a kiss to his lips, whispering a confession. "I'll kill anyone who gets in our way, anyone that lays their hands on you will regret the day they were born, (Y/N). What I would do just to see you...you'll never know."