When his pack alpha becomes fed up with his rebellion, werewolf Trevor is overdue for an attitude adjustment. Lone wolf Dirk is charged with this task, as a favor to the pack. Dirk, though, seems more interested in claiming Trevor for himself, by any means necessary. And regardless of Trevor's feelings on the matter.
Can these two outsiders find a way to become a pack of their own?
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"You're mine, pup." His hands were stretched up, his legs parted. Teeth landed on the back of his neck as the large body ground him down into the floor.
His cock jerked, filling so quickly his eyes rolled, the room spinning. "Fuck off!"
"No, I'm going to fuck you." Those heavy hips moved, his captor's prick hard and huge against his ass.
"Back off. Why won't you leave me the fuck alone?" He'd pissed the pack off. He got it -- the message was loud and clear. He was leaving.
"Because you're my boy and I'm making my claim." The teeth at his neck disappeared, the guy licking across his skin. "Marking my territory."
"I'm no one's territory. I'm leaving."
"Oh, no, you aren't." The hands at his wrist squeezed. "Or at least, you aren't going alone."
"Fuck you!" He twisted, his ass rubbing that hard cock, the huge body.
A low, pleased growl sounded, and the guy ground back against him. Trevor managed to drag himself forward about six inches before those teeth grabbed his nape again, shook him. The burn made him groan, the shake made him shudder.
Both his wrists were gathered into one hand and then his captor shoved the other hand beneath him, palming him through his jeans.
"No..." He shook his head. "Don't fucking touch me!"
Instead of disappearing, the guy's hand started tugging open his jeans.
"Don't." By the moon, the man was strong, dwarfing him, holding him like he was weak.
Without a word, the guy got his jeans open. Reaching in, his captor grabbed his cock, hand strong and hot and sure as it wrapped around his flesh and squeezed. Trevor shook his head, biting at the air, cursing his body's betrayal. That hot mouth was back at his neck, teeth digging into his skin as the hand around his prick began to jack him with strong, hard strokes.
All he could do was cry out, hips moving violently as generations of instinct took over. Back and forth, he rocked, into that hard hand and back against the solid body on top of him. The teeth at his neck eased, then bit down again, eased and bit down. Oh, fuck. Please. Please. That touch felt so good -- the pressure demanding that he feel it, that he ride that pleasure.
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