Chapter Text
When the meat shop turned off its ‘open sign’, Adrian perked up his fluffy ears and crawled out from under his tarp to meet the boy-in-the-apron. The sun sank behind skyscrapers as the promise of evening nipped at his bare arms. Adrian liked the night; it was kinder than day. When the rush-hour traffic petered out and the streetlamps flickered on, the shops gave up on customers and tossed out their leftovers. If he were lucky, he could pick out a hot dog from the garbage. But if he flashed his youthful charm and tilted his head so the neon lights twinkled in his miserable eyes, he could capture the heart of a kind soul who might feed him for the rest of the week.
Tonight he collected his second bounty. A new employee at the butcher’s had taken pity on Adrian and told him to come back the next three nights.
“Hey—“ the employee hissed. He wedged his foot in the shop’s backdoor, and he held a brown sack blotted with oil. “Hey, kid. That you?” Spotting Adrian, he waved him over. A car honked—Adrian snapped his head toward it, but it had nothing to do with him. “Hurry! I haven’t clocked out yet. Here.”
Adrian accepted the package. “Thanks.” The boy saluted him with two fingers and ducked back into the shop, letting Adrian settle down in the space between two dumpsters. Saliva pooled in his mouth while he unrolled the bag, exposing a salted ham bone. His tail, tucked between his legs, thumped on the concrete. “Mm…”
As if in response to his hum, a deep growl rolled out of the shadows, accompanied by two bright yellow irises.
“Smells good, cub.”
Adrian’s fur rose on his spine. Fuck. He scrambled upright, hiding the package behind his back. “I-I don’t have anything.”
“If you’re gonna try to lie, cub,” the voice’s owner stepped into the light. “At least make it believable.” Gavin—a red wolf with long limbs and a vicious bite—was taller and two years older than Adrian.
“I don’t want to fight.”
Gavin swiped his tongue over his teeth. “Oh, but I do. For that meat you’ve got hiding behind your back there.”
“N-no…stop!”
Gavin lunged, claws tangling in Adrian’s shirt. He snarled hot, stinking breath into Adrian’s face. “Give me the bag.”
“Let go of me!” Adrian yelped as Gavin clamped his teeth down on Adrian’s jaw. He slammed his knee into Gavin’s groin to shock him enough to let him go and cracked his knuckles over Gavin’s nose to send him stumbling back.
Adrian ran. At least—he started to.
“You little shit!” Gavin’s claws wrapped around Adrian’s upper arm and dragged him down. “C’mere.” He towered, one foot on either side of Adrian’s torso. Blood poured from the bottom half of his face; some of it his own, some of it Adrian’s. Adrian was still trying to suck in a breath when the grimy, gum-stuck sole filled his vision. “You’re gonna die today, sweetie. You’ll make a better meal than that puny snack, anyway.”
Adrian latched onto Gavin’s grounded leg and rolled. Gavin fell hard with an oof, but even startled, he was substantial enough to pin Adrian beneath him. “Fucking bit—“
A gray, growling beast dragged Gavin’s weight off him. Adrian pushed himself up onto his elbows, ice water swallowing his heart. He shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t’ve—he shouldn’t—
The wolf dwarfed Gavin. She forced him beneath her with rippling muscles shaping her arms and thighs. Her hair flowed like braided smoke down her back. “You want to finish what you were saying, Red?”
Adrian picked up his paper sack and scooted back on his bottom into the security of darkness. When she was done with Gavin, she’d forget about Adrian. Hopefully.
Gavin whimpered, and Adrian wrinkled his nose at the scent of piss. A wet spot in his pants expanded over Gavin’s crotch.
“Nothing to say?” the she-wolf puffed. “Go, then. And keep your filthy paws out of Gray Territory.” She climbed off him. “Get!” she snapped. Gavin sprinted away.
She stood. Stretched. Rolling her neck and shoulders, pulling at the joints in her fingers. “You can come out now, pup,” she said, turning her brown eyes on him.
Adrian pulled his knees up to his chest.
She sighed. “I can smell your blood. And your food. Come out, now.” It was too easy to obey a direct command from her. She smiled, soothing despite the ferocity she’d just displayed upon Gavin. “Attaboy. Let me look at that wound.” She…she wasn’t chasing him off for being a red wolf? Adrian crept forward, close enough for her to cup his uninjured cheek. He flinched away from her touch at first, and she waited for him to move back into her hand. She examined his face from different angles. “Nasty. Poor baby,” she tutted. “You’re bred decently. And you fight well.”
“But I lost,” Adrian’s hands closed tighter around the bag. Would she take it from him?
“You’re untrained and were at a massive disadvantage. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re what, fourteen and almost beat a wolf close to twice your size.”
“Fifteen.”
She laughed. “Fifteen, alright. My son, Dante, he’s fifteen too. I think you two will get along…What’s your name?”
“Adrian.”
“That’s a good name. Strong name. You pick it yourself?”
Adrian nodded.
“I’m Fallon. Come with me, Adrian. Let’s get you to a doctor.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and walked him out of the alley.
After the doctor—a nice man who wasn’t a wolf but wore his beard as bushy as one—stitched up his cheek and bandaged it, Fallon took him home. To her home.
She lived in a renovated warehouse so old that even the name of the business had worn away. Adrian sneezed at the lingering scent of grime and chemicals as they entered.
“You get used to it,” Fallon smiled. It wasn’t anything worse than the sewage stink that wafted up from the city grates, at least.
An elevator lowered them into a sprawling underground mansion. LEDs flooded the hallway with a cold light that kept his hackles standing on end. He eyed every metal door they passed, half expecting a wolf to jump out and close its jaws around his neck. One small rectangular window slid open, and a pair of startlingly blue eyes watched him pass. Adrian clutched the bag closer to his chest. By now it wouldn’t be fresh, but hunger cracked him open like a pothole in his stomach; he couldn’t afford to be picky.
Fallon guided him with a hand on the nape of his neck into the kitchen. It was identical to a commercial kitchen—clinical lighting, stainless steel appliances, and massive counters—not like the warm home kitchens with themed towels and worn oven mitts.
A young wolf with charcoal hair and black sweats sat on the counter, swinging their legs while they idly scrolled through their phone.
“Dante!” Fallon snapped. Her hand fell from Adrian’s neck, but she didn’t step away. “Off.”
Dante slid off the counter. “Sorry, Mom, I—“ His amber eyes locked on Adrian. “…why’s a red here?”
Fallon pushed Adrian between his shoulder blades. Pushed him farther in the kitchen. Pushed him closer to Dante. “This is your new brother.” Brother?
“Brother?” Dante said over him. Adrian backed up into Fallon’s unyielding palm.
“Yes. I trust you to show him around. Teach him the basics of our pack. I suggest you get along with him. You’ll be sharing a room.”
“What?”
“That-that’s really not necessary. I was just about to be on my way, anyway.” Adrian tried to sidestep away from her, but she caught his arm, and suddenly he was back in the alley with Gavin.
Fallon’s nails pierced into his short sleeve. “And leave a promising young wolf to get mauled in an alley before he even has the chance to reach his potential? No, Adrian. You’ll stay with us.” Dread was heavier in his gut than hunger. He had to get out of here somehow—but then her hand softened as she released his arm and stroked his hair. “Poor baby. You haven’t eaten supper yet. I bet it’s gone stale by now. Fix yourself anything you’d like from the fridge. Dante will show you how to use the appliances.”
Well, maybe he could stay for a little while. For a fresh meal. He offered an appeasing smile at Dante, who looked away as soon as their gazes met. Redness spread across Dante’s face. Damn. Dante was that angry about him being there?
“I’ve got some business in my office to take care of. Play nice, pups.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dante mumbled, throwing open the fridge door.
Fallon combed her fingers through Adrian’s hair one last time before leaving the two boys alone in the kitchen.
Adrian picked his way closer to Dante. “Um…hello. It-it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry about—“
Dante slammed the fridge door closed and tackled Adrian to the tile. “We’ll never be brothers.”
***
Even after ten years and a growth spurt for them both, Dante still wielded his size as a weapon against Adrian. Something popped. Adrian’s scream drowned out in the crowd’s uproar as he slammed shoulder-first into the fence.
“You done eating shit yet?” Dante yelled over the chaos. He prowled from one corner of the platform to the other. His charcoal bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat.
Adrian pushed himself up to the approval of half the stadium, and to the despair of the rest. “You fucking wish!” he threw back. His shoulder hurt like hell, and it sat unnaturally. His arm hung, useless, at his side.
“Come at me, then. Let’s finish this shit.”
Adrian drew back his healthy arm—Dante took the bait. Nothing was sacred in the cage. They grappled to tear out each other’s throats. Ripped their claws through nylon. Spat out teeth. Choked on fur. Dragged each other across the canvas by their tails. The scent of metal and perspiration stung his nostrils. The rock music and chanting pounded like blood in his ears.
Adrian jammed his foot as hard as he could into Dante’s ribs. Dante yelped and rolled away. Babying his side, he said something. Adrian could only read his lips and guess.
“You can try,” Adrian answered, crawling towards him. Dante launched straight for Adrian’s shoulder, and in that burst of pain, Dante sat himself on Adrian’s chest. Straddled him. Hands locked over his wrists. He grinned wickedly down.
The only rule in the cage was that as soon as your opponent kept you down for five seconds, you lost.
“One.”
Adrian struggled. Ignored his shoulder the best he could. Stomped his feet.
“Two.”
“Fuck!” He tried to buck Dante off.
“Three.
Fuuuck.
“Four.”
Adrian looked upside down at Fallon through his teary vision. She was on his side.
“Five!”
Pandemonium. Dante lifted from his chest to howl with the crowd, and Adrian sucked in a breath that burned his lungs as much as the weight had.
“This season’s winner of Caged Dogs, your grand champion,” the announcer said with his mouth on the mic, “Fáol’s own, Dante Gray!”
Adrian slapped away the hand Dante offered him. Dante shrugged as if to say, whatever, and caught Fenris’ arm instead. Fenris, Dante’s corner man, slapped him on the bicep. Said what looked like congrats, man and poured water into his open mouth.
Someone Adrian didn’t care about helped him up, gave him a towel, wiped his face, and pushed a water bottle into his hand. He gulped down a long drink. “Doctor,” they were saying, “Need to get to a doctor. Doctor!”
Adrian turned around to look where Dante accepted his prize with Fallon’s hand around his neck. She kissed his forehead. Dante whooped, punching his fist in the air. Adrian’s jaw tensed—it dislodged the scab on his lip, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. “Yeah. Take me to Doc,” he said.
Doc shoved his shoulder back into socket and fixed him up with a sling. Adrian sat on the table, poking his nails through the paper beneath him.
“I’m prescribing you some painkillers, kid. Low dose, but they might still make you drowsy.” Doc typed away on his computer, a pen stuck behind his ear. He hadn’t changed since the first day Adrian met him. Scruffy beard and all. Except maybe there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes. “You can pick them up tonight at—“ he paused, glancing sidelong at Adrian and his drooped tail. “Well. You know what pharmacy your family uses.”
“They’re not my family.” Adrian winced at how that sounded. He wasn’t some ungrateful pup.
Doc raised his hands in surrender. “Your pack, then.”
Adrian looked away. “I know the drill. I’m going to meet Dante at Henry’s.”
“Hang on. I just wanted to ask. How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine, Doc. Really. It was a rough fight, and I’m tired.”
Doc sighed, and spun in his chair to face the computer again. “That’s what I worry about. Take it easy. You’ve got, what, almost a month to rest before your next fight?”
“Mhm.”
“Good. Use it to rest. Take it easy. Don’t fuck around. And you know what? Don’t fuck at all.”
Adrian slapped his hands over his ears and hopped off the table. “Bye, Doc.
After every fight, and after the mandatory visits with Doc to check for injuries—there always were—Adrian tagged along with Dante and his friend, Fenris, to Henry’s Bar.
Dante massaged his blackening knuckles between bites of battered fries, saying, “He was too damn easy tonight. It’s like he wanted me to win, little pain slut.” As if he wasn’t breathing shallowly behind the bruised ribs Adrian had given him.
Adrian pressed his ears back flat against his skull. He felt more than heard his own growl rattle deep in his chest. Henry sensed it from across the bar, the intuitive bastard.
“No fighting in the bar, boys!”
Adrian jammed his elbow into Dante’s side, and Dante cuffed him on the shoulder for it. Adrian yelped—the stabbing pain from his injury radiated down to his tingling fingertips.
“Boys!”
“Sorry, Henry!” Then, to the table, Dante drawled, “Sorry Adri couldn’t take a punch like a Gray.”
Fenris tipped his head of fluffy hair back in a fit of glee. “Makes you wonder if Alpha only keeps ‘im for the—“
“Enough!” Adrian couldn’t fucking take it anymore. Fuck Dante and his bruises—fuck Fenris—fuck this sling—fuck them all.
He shoved his way into the kitchen, ignoring the tantalizing scents of fatty pub food. Henry called after him, but Adrian ignored him, too. “I said you can’t do that anymore, Adri!”
He slammed his uninjured shoulder against the back door. There was a spot between two dumpsters where a wolf could slump against the brick wall if he tucked his tail to one side. Adri was in no mood to tuck his tail anywhere. He paced up and down the alley instead. “Take a walk”, Fallon always said to her boys. That, and “Save it for the ring!” Yeah, well, he had saved it for the ring. And now he was taking a walk. It wasn’t helping.
How the fuck was he supposed to light a cig with one functional arm? He was one inconvenience away from tearing off the damn sling when—
“Need some help with that?”
“Fuck off, Dante.”
Dante’s amber eyes flashed in the streetlights as he prowled forward; his ears pricked forward with predatory interest. He wore his denim jacket, the one with fraying slits and big pockets—and the black messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Fuck. Heat coiled inside his pelvis like a snake flicking out its tongue to taste the air around its prey. It was just a fucking Pavlovian response or something like that. He was injured for fuck’s sake. They both were after that bitch of a fight.
Adrian grimaced at the intensifying stink as Dante stalked closer: a cocktail of sweat and metal and a primal musk that was so distinctly gray wolf it made his hackles quiver on end. Adrian curled his lips into a snarl. “I came out here to get away from you fuckers.”
“You can’t shake me off any more than I could chase you out of the pack,” Dante chuffed. He watched Adrian bite a cig and stuff the rest in his back pocket. “Shit. Not even going to offer me one?”
“Huh-uh.” Adrian took out his lighter—Dante ripped it out of his grip. “Hey!”
“You’re injured, Puppy, let me help.” Dante switched it on with his thumb. Adrian had half a mind to stomp Dante’s foot, but that didn’t seem wise as he brought a little cannister of petroleum and fire close to his face. Adrian leaned away. As quickly as he stole the lighter, Dante snatched Adrian’s chin and moved the cigarette back into the flame. “I won. You owe me a fuck.”
Adrian took the cig out of his mouth, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he said, “Like fuck I do—“ His back crushed against the brick wall. A burst of pain from the tender ligaments in his shoulder stole his breath. Dante’s arm held him in place. “Dante—fuck—Doc said—“
“I don’t give a shit what Doc said,” he growled. “Bite me, Puppy.”
Adrian pressed the glowing end of the cig into Dante’s neck. Dante howled. It distracted him long enough for Adrian to toss him off and aim a punch at Dante’s ribs.
Dante caught Adrian’s fist. Adrian struggled to tug it out—instinctively, he went to punch with his other arm, but it tangled in the fucking sling. What other options were there?
Kick. Dante hooked his leg around Adrian’s knee and brought them both tumbling to the filthy ground.
Spit. It landed on Dante’s cheek, then dripped onto Adrian’s. “Hot,” Dante said.
Bite. “Shit!” Dante yelped. He’d been pushing spit into Adrian’s mouth when Adrian latched onto his thumb. “Let go!” He didn’t. Not even when he tasted blood sliding backwards toward his throat. Not until Dante stuck his hand up Adrian’s shirt and twisted his nipple. Adrian opened his mouth to scream.
Dante sucked the blood off his thumb and lifted himself off Adrian’s legs to pull down his pants. Adrian used that release of pressure to unbalance him.
“Get back here, you little shit.” Déjà vu.
Adrian braced his foot against the ground to launch himself away—Dante grabbed his tail like a handle and dragged him back. Dante’s pants were already halfway down, revealing a black harness strapped around his hips and groin. The empty O-ring over his crotch. Fuck, he must have been wearing that in the bar. That thought went straight to his dick.
Dante caught Adrian’s foot before it could land on his battered ribs, held his ankle, and used it as leverage to fold Adrian’s leg out of the way.
“Lube, Fen.”
“Second pocket, right?”
“Uh, I just threw it in there. Check them all.”
Fuck. Fenris was here too? Adrian hadn’t even heard him come out. While Fen rifled through the messenger bag, Dante slid three fingers into his hole with moderate resistance.
“Shit, you’re already wet,” he said, thumbing Adrian’s dick with his claw. It was the prick of pain that made him squirm, not Dante’s fingers curling into his bladder. It wasn’t. “Hold the lube, Fen—“
“No! No no no bring the lube. Fuck, guys! Fuck you both! “
They both ignored him. “Just hand me the cock,” Dante said.
“Can I fuck him too?” Fenris snickered. “He’s begging for it.”
Dante shrugged. “Maybe.”
Adrian knocked the back of his head on the ground, panting up at the smoggy night sky as Dante fit the cock into his harness. He didn’t see which one it was, but tonight…tonight he didn’t want to know.
The silicone was cold against his skin. And then it burned as Dante’s stubborn thrusts pushed past his resistant flesh. Adrian relaxed his pelvis as much as he could for Winter—he knew which cock it was now based on the shape and the ridges—to slide in. He groaned at the stretch—at the unholy mixture of pleasure and pain ripping him apart. The knot at the base of the cock threatened to breach the entrance to his hole.
“Shit, you’re tight tonight,” Dante hissed. “I wish I could feel it.” He rutted his dick into the front of the harness, which only inched the cock deeper into Adrian. Dante’s tail swished from one side of his ass to the other. And behind that, Fenris had pulled his own dick out of his pants and stroked himself.
Adrian slid his claws down the expanse of his scarred back. Dante had a tattoo on his shoulder that his collar exposed at every thrust forward, and Adrian could never resist it. He pulled Dante down and sank his teeth into the muscle; the inked teeth marks matched Adrian’s bite one to one. Dante moaned again, his hips shuddering.
“Adri. Shit. I’m gonna come. Wanna come too, Puppy?”
Adrian nodded, as if he were tearing at prey, with his teeth still lodged in Dante’s shoulder. He tongued the blood spilling out of the wounds, some of it dripping from the corner of his lips down Dante’s arm.
Dante snaked a hand between their hips to roll Adrian’s dick between his fingers. It twitched under his ministrations, throbbing and oversensitive. Adrian neared the peak with every stroke of Dante’s fingers. Every hip roll—his and Dante’s. His hole’s contractions rhythmically squeezed around the cock, rocking it against the most receptive little spot inside of him. It slid in and out with ease. Adrian clenched on purpose now.
“You gonna piss yourself again?” Dante taunted into his ear. “You should. I came so hard for that.” Adrian had pissed himself once when the cock jutted into his full bladder. Dante teased him mercilessly about it since, even though he’d been the one who refused to let Adrian empty beforehand.
Was he pissing now? No—no, that wasn’t piss.
Pleasure overrode the pain. Pain made the pleasure stronger. White heat rolled out of Adrian’s hips. It bled through his body. Bowed his back. Leeched through his fangs lodged in Dante’s flesh. Adrian opened his jaws, pulling his teeth from Dante’s shoulder. The thought drifted through his mind: Now we both have a sore shoulder.
Dante cried out as his hips shuddered, his fingers digging into Adrian’s thigh. “I-I’m coming. Adri, shit.” The aftershocks were still rolling through Adrian when Dante collapsed over him. His hand found Adrian’s hair, lazily plucking at tangles.
“Out of the way, Dante.” Fenris’ footsteps stopped beside them. Adrian rolled his head to stare at his stained tennis shoes. Huh. He’d forgotten Fen was even there.
Dante he pushed himself up, patting Adrian’s stomach as he pulled out. “Go find somewhere else to stick your dick,” Dante growled. “We’re going home.”
Adrian closed his eyes and contemplated sleeping out in the cold, under the stars hidden by light and fossil fuels. It’d be just like the old days
Dante didn’t let Adrian reminisce about his years on the streets. He shoved Adrian’s clothes back on, pulled him up, and straightened his arm in the sling, laughing about how Doc would reprimand them if he saw them. Adrian didn’t laugh along, but he did smile at the irony and lean into Dante’s chest. By the time they stumbled back to the warehouse, they might have been keeping each other upright equally.
They stumbled into their room and stripped in the bathroom for their second shower of the night. Adrian sat in the tub, his back flush against the wall while the water sprayed over his head, staring at the way the droplets ran down the surgery scar beneath Dante’s chest fur. Their legs tangled together because there wasn’t enough room in the shower for them both to stretch out.
It was a rare moment of peace between them. A truce built upon mutual exhaustion and shared space. And one that lasted shorter than usual when a fist rapped hard on the bathroom door.
“What?” Dante growled, shedding water from his skin and tail as he hauled himself up to open the door.
“You’re not answering your phone,” Cal, one of their packmates said.
“Yeah. I was busy. Am busy.”
“Alpha Fallon wants you in her office. Both of you.”
Her office? Adrian and Dante shared a look. So much for rest before his next fight.