Rattle the chain
The grounds were crowded, and Kyle shoved his clawed hands into the pockets
of his trenchcoat as he strolled through it, looking
around. Big party. Might as well be,
even if you had to pay to get in. There were bands set up everywhere,
some of them famous, most of them not. He drifted closer to one with an
interesting sound coming from the speakers, ignoring the way people were
looking at his face. Everybody was like that the first couple of times. All the
teeth, and the forced out jaw that made him look like he was stuck somewhere
between wolf and man. Maybe cougar and man, he hadn’t been able to decide. Eyes
were like a cat’s though, ears pointed and fangs large and over locking. Kyle
thought it over for a moment, flicking the point of one pointed tooth with his
tongue. Maybe he was more like a big cat then a wolf.
Rowr.
He tilted his head to the side as he noticed some girls looking at him,
grinned, flashing his pearly whites and moved on as they stared with wide eyes.
Something about Alpha Flight came on a whisper to his ears, and he shrugged,
pushing the irritation back and down. Because he was working
for the government, that was why he could be out in public. Although,
The band was rocking out, and he turned his head as he smelt something canine. Wild. Smelt like a wolf, but why would there be a wolf in
the city, this far away from any woods? Nostrils flaring, he took a few deep
suspicious sniffs, before deciding that if he didn’t find out what was making
that scent, his curiosity was going to kill him. And then Jean-Paul would be
all gloating, and he just didn’t want to think about that prick getting any
sort of pleasure from something Kyle did. Asshole.
Every time he even looked sideways at
Wasn’t like it was all bad. Just that most of it was. Got fed, somewhere warm to sleep, no one poking him with needles
and scalpels. Just that the company sucked ass. Puck could be ok, for
such a little guy. Sasquatch just kinda hummed,
walked around. Didn’t say much to Kyle...no one did. Oh, he was dangerous,
children. He was bad, bad, bad. Killing machine.
Made that way, changed and transmuted. He chuffed
laughter to himself, hearing the growl running underneath it like an echo. The
animal chasing the human in him, round and round the two of them went.
Sometimes one was in control, sometimes the other. At the moment, he was mostly
man with the animal racing to keep up. That could change. Easily.
Just took someone pushing the right buttons, or him slipping the leash a little
bit.
The scent of wolf was thick in some places, like the animal had laid down for a while. But...there was something else.
Wasn’t quite wolf, though it smelt like it enough to fool him for more then a
few minutes. Cocked his head to the side, hunting heavy in his eyes and bared
his teeth in an ungainly snarl. The scent was raw, wild and drew him on, moving
through the crowd with his hands in his pockets and coat hem of the trench
flapping around his feet. Most people tended to get out of his way, and he
avoided the clusters where the audience of the bands skanked
or moshed in front of the stage, depending on their
moods and the music that was blasting from the speakers set up around for each
band. The sound was cascading, and he shook his head irritably, long golden
mane of hair shifting with the abrupt movement, to try and block it out. Concentrate
on the scent. Just the scent.
It took him back around to the non-public area of the grounds, where the bands
could relax away from their fans. Kyle just jumped the fence at a handy, out of
the way point and circled back around to try and pick up the scent again. Back
here, it crisscrossed back and forth across the trampled grass and mud, picked
up and spread around by a hundred pairs of feet. The feral snorted, and hunched
down next to one of the caravans, fingers twitching as he rested them on his knees.
Claws curved and cruel in the winter sunlight, feeling the
weak warmth of it against the top of his head. The black of his gloves
was familiar, tips cut away because his mutation made them impossible to keep.
His claws were too long to wear with a set of gloves that fitted his hand.
He’d thought the shop owner had been about to throw a fit when he asked for the
tips to be cut off, the edges hemmed, but he’d done it anyway. One of the best
pairs of gloves he’d ever had. Comfortable, tight around the
palm and gripped like a charm when he climbed.
Shook his head irritably, like an animal tormented by
stinging flies as he thought about what to do next. He wanted to find
out what that scent was, wolf and other, something not human but human,
something male about it, and so confusing. Bewildering.
Scent of the wet and wild woods trailing along in the footsteps of whatever it
was that was drawing him on. After a moment, he got back to his feet and
started hunting again. He didn’t know why he had to find this...whatever it
was, but he did. Wanted to see for himself. Not even
Wolverine smelt like this. So wild that it was like a seductive tang on the
roof of his mouth when he breathed it in.
Found the source eventually, as the sun started to climb down to late afternoon.
Kyle stared, a little puzzled, at the person his nose was insisting smelt so
good in the weirdest way. Small man, all necklaces and colored spiked hair
coiled around an acoustic guitar he was strumming idly. Bright and shining
copper hair with fragments of other colors lying underneath it at the roots,
and the corner of the mutant’s mouth twitched as he prowled closer, amber eyes
watching as people walked in between them both. Got a look as the man glanced
upwards, that was just...well, it was hard to put it
into human words. It said don’t mess with me, I’m cool at the moment, I’m
relaxed, but this is my ground, my territory. Don’t mess with me or you’ll be
paying the consequences out in blood. Alpha male. Kyle
grinned; he hadn’t had a good fight in a long while. It let him relax, animal
and man working in unison for a few golden moments. Stretch and burn of his
muscles, the stinging pain as wounds healed. And then when you came down from
the high of just surviving, it was always such a regretful thing.
Coming to a halt in front of the man, he could feel the heels of his boots sink
into the mud a little more as he stood still. His feet ached inside the
restraints of the footwear, and he wished that he could just walk around
barefooted. So many things that people did, and he’d had to remember, get it
back. Challenge passed, exchanged between their eyes and his grin stretched
into something animal that was all about biting and eating as the man got up to
put his guitar away. Restrained himself from a bounce
and a yip, too childish for words, but the thrum of excitement was thrilling
through his belly all the same. To feel alive, like there was something he
could do that other people couldn’t. So what, what he knew was to fight.
And giving into his primal side every once in a while didn’t feel bad either.
Felt good. Far too damn good. Nobody except him and the guy would know about
this, he was pretty sure. Just a little secret.
Whereas when he went out to the bars, nobody would even try. Or if they did try,
there always seemed to be something there, stopping it from happening. All he
wanted was a little release. A little bit of a place where he didn’t have to
think, just had to be.
Followed the short man out to a van that was painted with
zebra stripes, the guy all compact and small but coiled like there was
something dangerous lurking under his stoicism. Kyle breathed out
shallowly as they got into the van, the interior stank like pot. Heavily. Unwashed bodies and cigarette smoke, undertones of
sex, food. Blood. He looked sideways at the guy,
didn’t even know his name, and his ride smelt like animal blood. Inhaling
through his nose, he tried to figure out if there was any human in it. Didn’t smell any. Hoped that meant it wasn’t there. Fumbling
with the release underneath the seat, the tall mutant pushed the car seat back
so his long legs could stretch out more comfortably. It didn’t quite go far
enough, but it was definitely better.
“Oz.”
First word spoken, and Kyle was guessing that was his
name. Oz. Nice, short, sharp. To the point. And also kinda weird and out there. Seemed
to fit in with the rest of his look. With all the charms and tattoos he
could see now encircling his wrists as the sleeves of his shirt shifted as he
drove the van to wherever it was they were going. Most people would have been
afraid to get into a car with a stranger; he was pretty damn sure he could take
care of one scrawny guy like this if he had to. Not that he wasn’t planning to
anyway. But there was a chance he’d lose. And that was what the fighting was
about, just to see who was stronger, better. Nothing more to
it then that.
“Kyle.”
“Yeah, you’ve been on the news.”
“Have a face that’s hard to forget, that’s all.” Grinned, fangs interlocked
before he looked out the window. He hoped the guy knew where he was going.
Somewhere deserted, where nobody would hear them fighting. “So,
what your’s wild thing?”
Oz chuckled dryly, turning off the road from the city onto a smaller one, and
Kyle closed his eyes briefly as he got sunflashed by
a sign. “I’m...sort of a werewolf.”
“Wow, some mutation.”
“Mutation...yeah.”
Dry little chuckle racing along at the end of Oz’s words, and Kyle’s ears
pricked up curiously at that. Something funny, something that almost smelt like
a lie riding along in his scent. Wondered what it meant. Decided he didn’t
really care, as the van jerked off the road and went deeper into what counted
as woods around this place. Bumpy ride, probably playing hell with the
undercarriage, but it was Oz’s vehicle. He got to decide if the bucket of bolts
could take it, or if he didn’t care if it could or
not. Nobody would be coming out here anyway, Kyle decided as the van stopped
with a jerk and they both got out.
“I just want to get my coat off, ok? Getting blood out of leather is a
bitch...”
Shrugged the trench off and left it puddled on the
ground near the van, flexing his fingers and watching Oz with narrowed eyes.
Adrenaline starting to rise, and he could smell it on
the other man too. The wild smell got more wild, more there,
wolf scent rising around them like moon coming up over the pines. Grinned
wickedly, and got a grim smile of fangs back as they circled each other,
something shifty going on with the guy’s eyes. Black, endless
gaze. Distortion on his face. Huh. Little bit
like watching Sasquatch come out of Langowski, but Oz wasn’t letting the wolf all the way out.
Charms shining around his neck, curling symmetry of tattoos crawling over his
wrists.
“No biting,” Oz said, setting some rules, and Kyle shrugged good
naturedly in acquiescence.
“Just claws then.”
“Sure, claws are fine.”
And then it was on, in a flurry of claws and snarls. Kyle resisted from the
instinctive urge to bite as Oz’s shoulder presented itself, gasped instead as
claws raked down his skin and shredded his shirt. The blood was thick and heavy
in the air as they tore into each other, both still on their feet. This was fun.
Training with kid gloves on just couldn’t compare to this. Seemed like the only
one who was ready to take him to the mat in a rough and tumble with blood
flying every which way was the Wolverine, and he was gone like a bird flying
home to the States and the little band of X-Wearers. Missed
that. Had some of it back here, and there were
even less holds bared.
Little bastard might be small, but he was fucking fast. Twisting in and out, and he could feel the blood pouring down from a gash on
his shoulder. Red splattered over the ground beneath them, from both of them.
The wounds were healing up slowly, and he swept Oz’s feet out from underneath
him as he crouched for a moment, leg swinging out and catching him at the
ankles. Pounced. Rolling over and over in the leaf
litter, hissing and growling from deep inside his chest, hearing yelps and
growls from the man...werewolf, he guessed, he was fighting with. Went daze
eyed for a moment as the fucker headbutted him, and
then again. Beautiful hit, he had to admit that much. Sprawled for a moment on
his back, boneless in disorientation, and felt Oz straddle
his hips. Arch and grind down, creating some very interesting friction.
Hey what now?
Just warped out of true face of the man he’d met at the concert grounds, fangs
glittering like something close to a smile and black eyes endless as Oz stared
down. They were both hard. Usual response, he found, to a drag down and out
roughhouse. Least for him. Fighting, fucking, feeding.
What the fuck ever, the beast inside approved of it all with howls of
encouragement. Hand on his throat, holding his head still while he looked up at
Oz with half slitted eyes and wondered. Whether he was going to allow this or not. The squeeze of
the hand as he started to move made him decide that at the very least, Oz was
going to have to work for his ass harder then he had. Stakes
being raised and all that sort of demanded it. Buck
and roll, him on top now and grinning as the scrapes from claws on his throat
dripped blood down onto the face beneath him.
And it was off again. Scratch and claw and occasionally, the glance of teeth
when either one of them forgot the no biting rule. Not that they actually bit
down, but the keening scrape of a canine against his shoulder made him shudder
a little. Like he’d found a kink he didn’t even knew he had. Let loose a little
bit more on the animal that was lurking inside his mind, dropping straight into
the maelstrom of blood/fight/claw/blood/sex/blood/dominan
Went limp, breathing in the scent of their shared blood
scattered over the ground, hearing the soft growl of approval rumble against
his skin. Folded his arms under his chin, so at least
he could lift his face off the ground and stop eating the dirt. The pressure of Oz’s clawed hands at his belly made him lift his
hips obediently, feeling the scrape of denim being dragged down his thighs. God
damn, that was cold on his bare ass, knew with a small shock that he’d said it
out loud when Oz chuckled. Sort of the same dry chuckle that he’d laughed back
in the van, but deeper, rougher. Wilder. Wet licks twisting their way across
his backbone, and he shuddered.
Never thought about this. Not really. Not sex with
guys, and definitely not him as being on the receiving end. It had always been
about the hot wet scent of girls, soft shapes of breasts and the curve of their
hips. This was different and startlingly new. Comb of fingers through his hair,
claws trailing across the shape of his skull, and it felt so good, that he was
surprised to find that he almost purred. Always loved having his hair stroked,
even back before he’d grown it down to his ass, but nobody ever seemed to want
to do more then just ruffle their fingers through the top. Rolled
his head into the caress of Oz’s hand, knowing that he was being gentled,
soothed, coaxed, and frankly not giving a fuck. Like maybe this wouldn’t
be so bad, since every time he’d ever thought about the gay sex, he’d winced. Things in the ass, ow.
Didn’t compare to the hand cradling the back of his head,
sweeping tangled blond hair off his shoulder to leave the line of his back bare
as the tattered cloth of his t-shirt was pushed up. Breathed
in the scent of his sweat as a curious mouth investigated his skin, shivered
slightly as warm wet swipes of a tongue dragged over cuts and bruises.
Hurt, but in a good way as Oz fastened his mouth over a clawed slash and probed
it with his tongue. Tip running in and over the flaps of torn skin, pushing
into the muscle and hard edge of teeth there just behind the wet licking
softness.
Grunted and pushed his hips down into the clawed hand that wrapped itself
around his cock, panting roughly and closing his eyes for a moment to just get
around the fact that it was a guy doing it. Jesus. When was the last time he’d
had something even approaching sex with someone other then himself anyway? Felt
so good, guitar calloused fingers jerking him off
rough and slow. Red flashing behind his eyes, hearing Oz’s stuttered growl that
made him want to turn belly up and offer his stomach for the bite. Tensed suddenly as the hand left his erection and slid back up his
thigh to cup his ass along with the other. Squeezed his eyes shut
tighter, and waited. Heard himself breathe, raspy and
short in panted gasps. Waited, and felt the skin between his shoulder blades
twitch slightly as Oz licked along the dip at the bottom of his spine.
An undignified yelp escaped his mouth as the tongue trailed down further, wet
slide down the crease of his ass, and it felt so wrong. Complete and total
confusion flashed across his mind. Just what the hell was Oz doing? “What-”
Warm, and wet, and oh sweet Jesus Christ - inside him. The guy was actually
putting his tongue into Kyle’s ass. “Oh, fuck!” He could almost hear Oz chuckling,
bastard always seemed to be laughing at him, but god, as long as he kept doing
that thing with his tongue...he could laugh all he wanted. After. Heard himself moan like some
wanton thing, flicker slide of Oz’s tongue in and out sending darts of pleasure
racing through his stomach. Prickling tension running across
his nerves. Hands on his hips holding him still and open for this, dark
claws pricking at his skin and he bit down onto his forearm, trying to cope
with this new thing. Felt himself teetering at the
edge of red-tinged sanity and knowing that madness was lurking if he tipped too
far the other way.
Oh, god.
Shuddered as Oz leant back, feeling trailers of spit running down the inside of
his ass. It should have felt bad, but it didn’t. None of it did. But he would
have been lying if he’d said he’d been expecting anything, anything close to
this when he left the concert grounds. Just a fight, that’s all he’d been
looking for. For release of an entirely different sort
of tension. Hard grip on the back of his neck that was comforting at the
same time that it hurt, and he could feel himself starting to tense up again.
Knowing what was coming as Oz nudged his knees apart a little further, lean
body settling between his thighs.
Ah –
Blunt pressure at the spit wet entrance to his body, and he howled as Oz pushed
forward slowly. It fucking hurt, and a muffled
snarl rumbled through his fangs, locked as they were around the muscle of his
forearm. Almost soothing brush of fingertips against the side of his face as Oz
kept moving, sliding in, Jesus, Jesus fuck. How the hell did
girls up with anything like this? Finally, it seemed, he stopped and Kyle
shifted slightly on his knees, trying to come to terms with the feeling of fullness.
Some part of his head was still struggling with the idea that he was being
fucked, actually fucked.
Clever musician’s fingers slid around his flagging erection and made it easier
to ignore the ache that was radiating from his ass. God
fucking damn. Blood taste in his mouth from where his fangs had
punctured the skin, copper taint coating the inside of his throat and after a
pause, Oz started to move. It was, Kyle decided abruptly, one of the weirdest
fucking things he’d ever felt. For a few long moments, it was just pain, and burn,
and ache...then his eyes crossed as Oz did something to something inside his
body that made dizzying, electrifying sparks of sensation dance across his
brain. Now that, he could do with more of. It made the
ache slide into something that was pleasurable, not that the ache hadn’t been
kind of good in its own way, but this was better.
Seemed like that had been what Oz had been waiting for, since he stopped with
the slow strokes and started to really fuck him. Hard thrusts, low growl
reverberating against the arch of his spine as Oz draped his lean body against
his back, hands holding onto his hips, and god. He could feel the bruises
already, from the slam of Oz’s hips against his ass and the grip of his
fingers, claws digging in and puncturing his skin. Rivulets
of scarlet trailing down his stomach and legs from the claw marks, to drip on
the forest floor. Hot, musky smell of males in rut
flooding his nose, blood tang swimming through his head just another
aphrodisiac. Kyle rebalanced himself carefully on one arm, moving the
other so he could jerk himself off. Familiar movements of his
own hand, precome helping the slide of his palm and
fingers over his cock.
Burn of arousal in his stomach, somewhere he could hear himself panting, Oz’s
moans and short yipped growls leading directly to his dick like the sound was
hotwired to turn him on more. Made the burn hotter, sweeter, working his hips
to the wild rhythm they’d managed to find as they fucked. Blood
all around them, birdsong from somewhere far off, wild and so high above the
guttural sounds that were making up his world.
“God, god, yeah, fuck, harder,” he grunted, knowing Oz would hear him. Weight
disappeared off his back, and he yowled with the next stroke, feeling like he
was going to split open from the force of it. Felt so good. Taken,
dominated, and spun right out of his mind with how good it felt. “Oh yeah!” Moved his hips down into his hand, back up
to meet Oz’s thrust. So hot, sweat rolling down his skin, he could see it drip
down his forehead to land on the ground below his face. Wet
scent of trees. Wild wolf scent covering his skin like a blanket, and he
knew he’d wash it off eventually but for now he could just let it soak in.
Flicked his thumb over the head of his cock, Oz’s dick sliding across that spot
inside his body that he hadn’t even known about but had christened his
new best friend ever, and came, body shuddering as his hips jerked.
Panted into the curve of his elbow as Oz continued to move, fucking him with
intense, hard movements. The slap of skin against skin was loud to his
sensitive ears, and he moaned softly. Still felt good, but he wasn’t going to
get it up again this soon. Maybe in about ten minutes or
something. Before that happened, he felt the werewolf stiffen, hands
clawing down his sides as Oz came. Inside him.
Which displaced the in and out movement of being fucked up the ass as the
Weirdest Thing Kyle Has Ever Felt by a landslide.
Jesus, but that was weird as hell. Wet and he could feel Oz inside him, but
smaller now that he was going soft. Huh.
He licked his canines thoughtfully as they both just lay there, the wind that
was picking up now cool against his skin. The ache in his muscles from the
fight and then the fuck was almost bone deep. Felt good. Awesome fight (even if
he had lost), followed by a fuck and bone melting orgasm meant he was almost
completely blissed out right here on the forest floor
and ready to sleep. Grimaced a little in distaste as Oz slid out and he felt
come trail down the inside of his thighs, slick and wet. Felt so empty all of a
sudden as well. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned over and looked at Oz,
blinking sleepy eyes and staring at him through his tangled fringe. Nearly got
all tangled up in his jeans that were hanging down around his knees, but he had
the grace and agility of a cat.
Hey, he fucking well did!
Plenty of grace. Lots of agility as
well. Which led to thoughts of just how he could use
that grace and agility in something other then a battle. Hadn’t really
had the chance to, since he’d gotten it. The face put people off. Resolutely
pushed away the thought that that was why Oz had taken him on his hands and
knees. Man knew what he looked like.
Getting to his feet shakily, he pulled up his pants as Oz put himself to rights
as well. The sticky wet feel of come leaking out of his ass and down the inside
of his legs was off putting in the extreme, but he’d just cope until he got
back to the Alpha Flight building. His shirt was shredded, but he was
maliciously satisfied to see that Oz’s was in no better state. Worse in some bits.
Ha.
Maybe sometime they could have a rematch. That could be fun.
The ride back to the grounds was fucking uncomfortable, with Oz smirking
at him slightly in this deadpan way. Kyle leant his head out the window and
panted like a dog, closing his eyes to feel the breeze against his face. He was
covered in blood and grazes, while the trench did just about hide the worst of
the damage he still looked like he’d been in a huge fight, his ass ached like
nobody’s business and he felt so fine it was bizarre. Hadn’t
felt this good since...well, for a damn long time.
“You have a number?” Oz asked him casually once they arrived back, van entering
the gates without question. Thank god for that, they wouldn’t have passed an
inspection. Although Oz had just dug up an old shirt from the
back of the van. It just added another layer of pot smoke and general
grunge to his scent, the wolf smell twining all around
them. This was the man’s den, as it stood. So that made sense,
that it smelled like him.
“Sure.” Wrote it down on a bit of paper that Oz handed to
him, leaning against the body of the van to have something to push against.
His hair, he realized suddenly, was going to take forever to comb out. He was
covered in dead leaves, forest matter, and blood. Thank God he’d ridden his
bike in. Now that everything was over, and the cold dullness of reality seeped
back in, he felt almost numbed.
Riding the bike back to base was hell. He hadn’t thought it would be
that bad, but it was far worse. Parked his motorbike in the garage, and
stretched, putting his hands on the backs of his legs and bending backwards.
Something in his spine popped audibly, before he straightened up and headed
inside.
Walking a little stifflegged, but that could just be
put down to a strut. Covered in blood and stinking of sweat, t-shirt ripped to
ribbons, and oh,
“Your eyes are going to fall out onto the floor,” a frosty Joual
voice in his ear informed him, and Kyle cocked his head to look at Jean-Paul.
Fang baring smile still firmly in place and golden
eyes glittering. He smelt good in the light of Kyle’s latest epiphany,
just as good as his sister, and he saw the flicker of almost indecision pass
through Jean-Paul’s eyes before the arrogance slammed down again. “You’re a
disgusting animal.”
“Is this about the blood?” Kyle asked in a soft growl, raising one eyebrow. Leaned in a little more, aggression never totally worked out and
feeling the beast look out from behind his eyes. “Or
about
Loped off in the direction of his room, hearing the Joual
behind him start off civil and then disintegrate into a vicious argument. Usual round of events. It was probably about
Once he finally got into the shower, the hot water slid over his skin in a
mockery of a lover’s caress and washed away the stains of lust. But he felt
changed, inside. Something had broken open. Worldviews changing and shifting,
all that jazz. He grinned, wolfishly, as he worked shampoo through his hair.
Jean-Paul had smelt really good.