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Obedience was the cornerstone of every relationship to a werewolf, be it from child or lover; when the Alpha called into the night, howling in his beta’s sleeping mind, and was answered promptly, the boy proved himself a worthy fit for either role. It was perfect, at least to the parts of his mind that had healed enough to be named Peter; neither wolf quite fully in control, reunited in the spot of the boy’s turning, matted black fur caressing silk-soft olive skin… He was never so far gone that he couldn’t appreciate aesthetics.
The boy, his boy, stared at him from across the small clearing, eyes empty of true awareness, but glowing with a beta’s need to be claimed. The Alpha stalked forward, until snout pressed against nose, and rubbed his fur against the boy’s face. As family should, the nuzzle was reciprocated at once, the boy pushing his face into the Alpha’s neck, wrapping his arms around the Alpha’s flank, with such force that he might have wanted to disappear inside his maker and stay warm within forever.
He rumbled at the thought. He would give his pretty beta what he craved; they would never be apart.
His claws trailed up the boy’s lean torso, pushing the shirt’s fabric up to where his mark had been and resting his paw there. The boy gasped like the touch burned - and why shouldn’t it he was a thing of flames and ashes now and he would shove his way past those sweet lips and fill this boy’s lungs with his smoke – and let his own long (dull, not dangerous, made for strokes, not slashes, not yet) fingers rest on the Alpha’s for a lovely moment before he obeyed and pulled off his shirt.
Of course, the boy had to shrug off his coat before he could bare himself. That damned coat, that tease, dangling a red hood in front of a wolf, had the boy no sense or was it just that he wanted to be devoured? And what was bared was certainly worth devouring; he looked like he had been sculpting himself, just waiting for the day when the right eyes would see all his labour, all his sweat, and praise him for the effort.
His trance-sluggish hands fumbled at the button of his jeans, an obstacle the Alpha no longer had the patience to abide. His boy sighed when he was done, when his claws found the tiniest hole and worked the entire tedious garment to shreds, no doubt happy to be free, to be exposed for his Alpha. He left the boxers after a moment’s contemplation; something that was Peter enjoyed the perversion of claiming him with that flimsy covering around his knees, like they had been too rushed to undress all the way, like his boy had been too desperate to be fucked to even bother.
When his paws dragged the underwear down his boy’s strong thighs, he watched with riveted gaze the way his cock flopped free, not yet fully hard, but anticipating. It jumped when the Alpha let a claw barely touch it, the lethal point moving up the underside as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to risk the attempt at masturbating his beta or simply leave him a bloody mess of a eunuch.
He allowed himself to gather evidence for both arguments by extending his long tongue, dragging the rough surface over his boy’s balls and shaft. The way he jolted, the Alpha did not need his healed Peter aspects to tell him, was much too entertaining to deprive himself of.
The keening his boy was letting loose, the twisting of his hips to try and be reunited with the Alpha’s dangerous mouth, was proving as distracting as it was appealing. His paws, close enough to hands for some tasks, took hold of his thighs and pulled, making the boy fall to where his red coat covered the ground. His eyes went wide, but there was still no true alertness in them; the power of the Alpha was absolute. Then he continued to pull, sliding the boy upwards until only his shoulders remained on the ground, and then pushed.
It ached, no doubt, being twisted so that the head of your own cock was a breath from your lips, but if he was so desperate, he could solve his own problems. The Alpha had more important fare.
His boy only took a moment, sweet clever thing, to learn what he needed, licking frantically at himself with happy yips. Meanwhile, he was beginning to feel himself grow impatient at this lack of attention to himself, his red cock emerging at the sight of his beta’s hunger and fervour. It was time to ready the way; and so he let his long tongue loll out again and set to licking the opening between the firm globes of his boy’s ass.
The shock that ran through his beta’s body at the new sensation made him jolt forward, forcing his cock just into his mouth. When he realized the full impact of the delightful change in his positioning, his vacant eyes fluttered closed, his hips twisting to try and best maintain his suckling without disturbing his Alpha’s tongue.
It seemed like too short a time altogether before the wrinkled ring of muscle looked wet and loose enough to rut with abandon, but perhaps it was just that he could go on tasting his beta forever. Perhaps another day. He flattened the boy out, ignoring his shocked whimper when his cock escaped his hungry grasp, and flipped him to lie belly-down on the red coat. The whimpering shifted then and the boy too, slinking forward with his knees to prop himself up, offering his ass as only the most perfectly devoted betas would.
And the Alpha was not one to dismiss or ignore such devotion.
His red eyes watched with fascination the way his shining red cock slid into the boy, who groaned with the same rapture that Peter did at the perfect unity of beta and alpha, child and creator, the beginning of an unstoppable pack. He snarled at the way his hips worked forward and back, driven all but mad as part of him, all of him, never enough of him sank into that tightness. If his boy was truly speaking in between his whimpers and yowls, he could not hear it above the blood pulsing through himself, carrying the urge of filling his beta with his seed even if it would not make his pack (or his beta) grow larger with the promise of children.
He felt fingers barely brushing his fur and looked down; his boy was reaching behind himself, straining to touch his alpha. His vision blurred and he was barely aware of himself moving as he flipped his beta once more, ignoring the pained shriek as the boy’s body twisted around the Alpha’s dick, a shriek silenced when he covered his beta with the entirety of himself like a fur blanket.
I am here.
Thrust.
You are mine.
His beta clenched his ass as best he could, pushing himself forward when the Alpha pulled back, never wanting to be separate.
We are family.
An understood word finally, sobbed in the midst of feral yowling. “Yes.”
I will never leave you.
The boy rubbed his face once more into the fur of the Alpha’s neck, his blunt human teeth trying to nip, to mark, to prove the bond.
And you will die before I let you go.
The orgasm coursed through him like a lightning shock, like he was having something ripped from him in the process of coming inside his beta. There. As promised, the insides of his first beta were coated with him; until he came to the Alpha (to Peter, he would be Peter again then) of his own volition, not in a trance, his boy would always have a trace of him too deep for even the most frantic of cleaning to touch.
With a final hot pant across the boy’s face that would have to serve as a kiss until his own lips were fully healed, he broke the trance. His knot, however, would not break for nearly another hour. Then, Peter supposed, he would slide the boxers back into place (a crime in and of itself), slide out of the boy (another injustice to add to the pile), and rush back to the hospital where Jennifer would likely tsk at him.
But, for now, he could amuse himself with the rise and fall of his sleeping beta’s chest and the desperate attempt of his body to heal the damage of their rutting.