After

Darren was driving though the dark, pheromones thick in the enclosed space of his pickup, black tarmac stretching out in front of them.

Kit checked his face in the car mirror - his neck hurt.

Oh shit.

Kit stared into the tiny mirror. The bite stood out, angry and raised, bright red against his skin. He remembered what Ronan had told him earlier that night.

'There is a submissive element...' Ronan had said. 'Biting...' Kit stared at the crimson bite mark Darren had left on his shoulder. An alpha wolf... he had used his pheromones on him...

Shit, Kit thought. I wonder what this means.

Darren squirmed in his seat and Kit glanced over at him. He was quite clearly getting hard again, cock straining against the front of his pants. The younger man locked eyes with him and casually reached over, stoking a finger languidly along his length.

"Fuck," Darren cussed and bit his lip.

Kit grinned. He leaned over and unzipped Darren's jeans with his teeth, letting his hard cock spring free.

He licked him, sucking and moaning, taking him deep into his throat and using his hands on himself, until the other werewolf couldn't see straight anymore.

"Fuck!" he swore and swerved, pulling the car over at the side of the road. He grabbed Kit and dragged him onto his lap, fumbling at his clothes, dragging down his jeans.

His ass was still soft and slick from earlier so Darren slipped right in. Both of them groaned, gasping in the cool air.

Kit flinched, sliding deeper onto Darren's cock.

"Mm...mpfh...ah..."

The steering wheel dug into his back and Darren grabbed his buttocks with both hands, pushing him down and kneading his flesh, groaning into his shoulder.

"It's...too soon," he panted. "I can't...come again already."

"But you're so hard." Kit slid up his shaft slowly and sat down hard, watching Darren twitch. He leaned forward and whispered next to his ear, wrapping his arms around Darren's neck -

"Well then. Since you said your house is so close by... why don't you drive us there? Like this?"

Darren's eyes widened. The smell of pheromones was so thick in the enclosed space Kit was surprised he could even see straight.

"I promise I won't move...much," Kit teased in his low, raspy bedroom voice, and Darren's hands on his butt tensed.

With one hand he pressed the small man against his chest and with the other he turned the ignition, starting to drive carefully along the deserted tarmac.

As soon as he the car the engine's vibrations shot through Kit. He flinched, clenching tight and flinching around Darren.

"Ugh! Aah..." He bit down on the flannel fabric covering Darren's shoulder, stifling his moans. He could feel every vibration and every bump in the road in his ass, stretched wide over Darren's cock. His own hard dick, trapped between them, twitched.

They seemed to inch forward. Kit squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on holding tight and staying still instead of rocking in the way his body was urging him to.

Suddenly they stopped. The engine went cold and Kit felt a cold gust of air as Darren flung the door open with one hand, leaving the key in the ignition. Then he turned in his seat, swinging his legs out and pressing the omega down on his stiff cock.

"Don't you dare move," he grunted, getting out of the car. "Oh, damn it!"

Loud barking assaulted them - Darren gave a loud growl and several german shepherds scuttled away into the darkness.

Kit only moaned, clinging to him - every step sent little jolts though his body. Darren walked up to the house, up the wooden steps, carrying Kit as if he weighed next to nothing.

He pushed the door open - apparently he left it unlocked - and walked straight in without turning on the lights or kicking off his boots. He dumped Kit on top of the kitchen table, still inside him.

The youth's cock was weeping by now - he was twitching around Darren and too far gone to try and control the situation.

"...ck me, okay? Fuck me, Darren..." he pleaded.

Pale sunlight filtered in through a dirty window and hit Kit's eyes. He blinked, and in a rush the events of the night before came flooding into his mind.

He had worked a long shift, sang karaoke, and gone three rounds with Darren - the fistfight included. They had both passed out on the couch, blankets drawn over their naked bodies, sweaty and unwashed.

Kit had tied Darren to a chair, blown him against his will, used his pheromones on him before releasing him... He had just wanted to feel in control, the one making the choice, the one forcing, not being forced.

But that was wrong. He knew it was wrong the minute he remembered what he had done.

The problem was, how do you apologize for something like that? Goddammit... What have I done?

He looked around the house. It was a mess. Rifles propped up in one corner, clothes and plastic wrapping paper on the floor... Old, dusty furniture. Kit's eyes caught on an acoustic guitar on a stand next to the couch.

"D'you play?" Kit asked, nodding towards it and nudging Darren's calf with his naked toe.

"Sure. Everyone plays guitar," the other man croaked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"That's true." Kit took a deep breath.

"Hey, Darren. Uh... Yesterday I was way out of line." He drew his hand through his hair and looked down.

"I basically forced you and drugged you... I'm sorry. I can't take it back but I'm sorry. I was... It was wrong. Just wrong."

Darren's hands knotted into fists and Kit braced himself. If Darren wanted to punch him he would let him - it was only fair.

"Yeah. Damn straight you were out of line. You're a bit of a cunt, aren't you?"

"Sure," Kit deadpanned, "I am."

"Yet everyone think's you're so great."

"If they do, it's not because of anything I've done."

"But d'you know what? I did what I wanted to do yesterday. Your scent was pretty sweet, I won't lie, but my head was clear when you cut me loose - not like during the full moon. No-one forced me.

Darren reached out, ruffling his hair roughly.

"And I wasn't exactly gentle with you either, right? So let's just forget about it. Felt pretty damn good, if you ask me."

Kit scrunched up his nose. "Forget about it? You'll let it go?"

Darren smiled, and it made him look a whole lot more similar to Dan. "Yup. If we're being honest, I haven't been exactly kind to you, huh?"

"That's one way to put it."

Kit looked at him suspiciously. Why was this guy suddenly so amicable, after spending weeks at his throat? He wasn't usually one to question a good thing, but surely no sex was that great.

"Hey," he said, "Why are you suddenly so nice? Well, not nice exactly," he amended, "Just not a dick."

Darren grinned. "I used to think you were a threat. To my pack - my family. Now I think you're just a messed up son of a bitch, like the rest of us. You should fit right in. Welcome to the family, freak."

He got up, clapped Kit on the shoulder and started pulling on his rumpled jeans, whistling.

That's when Dan walked through the front door.

His eyes flicked between them, Darren's pants around his ankles, Kit in nothing but a T-shirt. He wouldn't need a fully functioning olfactory system to sense them all over each other.

Dan's face changed. For the first time since Kit had known him, he looked frightening, his size and strength suddenly intimidating instead of reassuring. Darren grew pale - Kit froze.

"How did you get in?" Darren growled.

Dan raised one thick eyebrow. "You left the door open," he replied quietly.

Then he turned and walked out, back to his truck.

"Wait! Dan!" Kit ran out after him only half-knowing why but sure that he could not let Dan disappear. Running out onto the cold stones in just his own oversized T-shirt, he grabbed onto his arm.

"Dan -"

Dan jerked loose, and Kit stumbled forward, falling. Just before he reached the muddy stones large hands shot out to catch him, gently pulling him upright.

He let go and looked away, hands at his sides, fists clenched. Kit saw that he was shaking, lips pressed together into a thin line.

"Just what - " He took a deep breath. "Just what am I supposed to do, Charlie?"

Dan ran his hands though his hair, looking more disheveled than Kit had ever seen him.

"I was so sure that the best way to get through to you was to be clear about how I feel - without ever trying to corner you or make you feel trapped. I tried to do that. Do you have any idea how it feels to see you run away from me anyway?"

He turned away, facing his car. Kit felt as if the ground had opened into an abyss beneath him, everything he had tried to avoid and postpone gaping in front of him.

Kit had followed him out without thinking and now he blushed, getting angry.

Why did I follow him? Why do I feel like I owe him an explanation?

"This is the way I am, Dan! This is...what I am." He stared at him defiantly.

Dan stepped closer, his face blank. Grabbing Kit's shoulders, he spun him around, pressing his back against the side of the truck. He took his face between both of his hands and stared down at him, eyes fixed on his.

"It's not who you are. It's how you choose to act."

"Your actions are what define you!"

"Then you can choose who you are. Because you can choose how you act, Charlie. Is this who you want to be? Is it?"

Kit looked away. "I can't choose...because I'm an addict. I'm messed up, Dan."

He spread his arms wide, palms up. Do you see now?

"There's a 'We're all a bit fucked up but we get on with our lives' kind of fucked up, and then there's a 'So fucked up you can't function in society' kind of fucked up. And that's what I am."

"You think I can't understand being messed up? After three tours, half my face blown off, PTSD and years of therapy - physical and psychological?

"I'm not judging you for being fucked up," Dan continued. "But do you expect me to just stand around and watch you lie, mess with my pack, and act self-destructive?"

"I'm an addict! You wouldn't understand! Even if I tried to explain..."

"What wouldn't I understand?"

"I'm! I'm too... I'm afraid of family. I'm too broken. I'm scared that... I'm okay now, alright? I'm alive. I'm functioning. But I think that if I opened myself up to family again and then lost it, again... I wouldn't function. I wouldn't be okay ever again."

And all the last broken pieces of myself that I'm holding together would just scatter to the wind... I wouldn't survive it.

Dan brushed a strand of hair out of Kit's face, gently. He seemed to hesitate. Then he reached past him through the open window into the passenger seat, withdrawing a worn plastic bag and stepping back. He held it out to Kit.

"This is for you. I got it for Morgan years ago when I was on leave but it was too small for him, and I just ended up hanging on to it. I figured you wouldn't accept anything new."

Kit had taken the bag reflexively. He glanced down and spotted soft, folded cloth.

"Clothes?" he asked, eyes widening. "Why?"

I need clothes. Why did you notice? Why are you so kind?

"Because your hoodie looks cold. And I want you to be warm. And taken care of. And happy. So if Darren makes you happy... I wish you the best."

His last words sounded strangled, but his fists were no longer clenched. He looked sad. Mouth pressed into a thin line, Dan climbed into the vehicle.

"Take care of yourself, Charlie."

"No - no, wait!"

Kit didn't know what he wanted to say - he only knew that he felt sick watching Dan drive away. The gravel crackled beneath the wheels of his old Land Rover, leaving Kit standing in the cold drizzle.

Because I want you to be warm.

What was this? Since when was he still capable of feeling this way? This kind of pain...the kind he associated with love, with Charlie.

He looked at the plastic bag filled with old clothes. Why did it hurt so much? What was this feeling squeezing his chest, making him almost gasp for air? This was not the kind of pain he wanted...

And Dan's face crumbling, his warm gaze turning cold, kept flashing before Kit's eyes. Just when had he started caring so damn much? When had he started to look forward to seeing Dan's face almost every day, to hearing his low, rumbling laugh?

What am I supposed to do now?

Kit walked back into the house. First he had to get some goddamn clothes on. He trod into the living room, barely seeing what was in front of him, tuning out Darren's loud cussing. He turned the plastic bag upside down.

Out fell a brand new black zip-up hoodie, and a three-pack of camouflage T-shirts. In a smaller and much newer supermarket bag were one multipack black socks and one multipack boxer-briefs. Simple and utilitarian, like something a military man might pick out.

Kit's stomach twisted. Darren's words finally reached him through the buzz in his ears.

"Fuck, I can't believe I slept with my brother's mate. Just how stupid can a guy get? Shit, this isn't happening..."

"His...his what?" Kit croaked.

"His mate! His other half and shit!"

"You're... You'd better be fucking kidding me. But If you believe that, why did you sleep with me?"

"Not like I planned to! I was horny, all right? It's not like I owe him anything - and neither do you!"

"Damn straight. I don't owe him anything." But even as he said it, Kit felt his insides twist more, nausea building in his throat. He swallowed. "How do you know?" he couldn't help asking.

"My sense of smell is fucking excellent, thank you, so it's not like I'm gonna miss something like this - "

"Look, I'm...leaving. I mean, going back to Morgan's. I'll see you around, Darren."

Darren still had his face in his hands and made not move to stop him as Kit pulled on his jeans and left, shoving Dan's gifts back into the shopping bag.

During the 20 minute walk to Morgan's house he tried his best to compose himself. His old trick of just not thinking about it wasn't really working this time. He needed a distraction.

The minute he walked into Morgan's living room, he got one.