feral thangs

“Do you still want me to stay? It is alright to change your mind if this is too uncomfortable for--”

“I-It’s okay,” Trouble whispered, lowering his gaze so he wouldn’t have to see the cuffs. “I don’t mind.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I...I want you to feel safe, so you can stay.”

“Alright.” Lucas tossed the blanket onto the far side of the bed. “I’ll do your ankles first, when you’re ready.”

“I...” Trouble gasped in a breath and held it. He rolled face down and kicked at the covers, uncovering his feet. “I’m ready.” The words came out sounding choked. His heart pounded in his ears as he waited for Lucas to grab him. I don’t care. I don’t. I have to do this. He bit down on his pillow, holding back a whine at the touch of cool leather against his skin. He couldn’t help flinching as Lucas secured the first cuff snugly around his ankle.

“Is this too tight?”

He shook his head and gripped two fistfuls of bed sheet underneath his pillow. 

“Alright. I need a bit more slack. Could you scoot closer to the foot of the bed, please?”

Trouble held his breath and obeyed, wriggling further down the mattress. His ears twitched as he listened to Lucas guide the cuff cable through the foot board slats. He jumped as Lucas touched his other ankle. Fuck. Fuck! Don’t be a baby! 

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you still sure--”

“Yes.” Trouble looked back over his shoulder at Lucas. “I want you to stay. I’m sure. I swear.”

Lucas smiled and nodded, then fastened the other cuff around Trouble’s free ankle. When he finished, Lucas settled the covers back over Trouble’s feet.

His exhale trembled, but he resisted the urge to yank against the cuffs. It’s fine. He’ll leave if I don’t wear them. 

“Trouble?” 

He jumped, flinching away from Lucas’ voice at his elbow, then whined, ears pinned flat against his head.

“Are you alright?”

Trouble shuddered and hugged his pillow tight. Say yes. Tell him you’re fine. You have to say something.

“We don’t have to do this tonight. I can take the cuffs off your ankles.”

“No.” He turned his head to look at Lucas, keeping his trembling hands under the pillow. He tried to smile. “Please, Lucas. Stay?”

“I know you don’t like being restrained. Are you sure--”

“Please just cuff me,” Trouble begged, closing his eyes to hide that he was on the verge of tears. 

“If it’s what you want. I’ll be very gentle. Could you move your hands closer to the headboard, please?”

He buried his face in his pillow and slowly slid his palms along the sheet, arms stretched above his head. Trouble’s breath caught as Lucas closed the first cuff around his wrist. He clenched his teeth together and hoped that Lucas couldn’t feel him shaking.

...

“This is only a precaution,” Lucas murmured, winding the cuff cable between the headboard slats. Trouble’s breathing was shallow and quick. “Breathe, Trouble.”

Though Trouble sobbed as soon as the second cuff closed around his wrist, he didn’t make any attempt to resist. 

“We’ll breathe together, alright?” He settled down on the empty side of the bed, curled on his side, and put his hand on Trouble’s back. “I’m right here with you. Take a deep breath.” Lucas let his eyes drift closed as he stroked Trouble’s back and murmured to him. “Good. Another, and hold... Let it out. Good.”

A minute into guiding Trouble’s breathing, he had to turn his face into the pillow to hide a yawn. Lucas gave himself a mental shake, then started up again, pacing breaths for both of them while he rubbed slow circles up and down Trouble’s back. 

“...you can stop.”

“Hm?” Lucas opened his eyes. Trouble was looking back at him. His eyes were red, but he’d stopped crying.

“M’okay.”

“If you change your mind about this, I can always take the restraints off of y—”

“M’fine.” Trouble shook his head.

“This isn’t to punish you,” Lucas explained slowly, deliberately. “Do you understand that?”

“It’s ‘cause you’re scared I’ll hurt you, even though I never have.”

“I’m not scared, Trouble, but with how vulnerable I am without my prosthetics and how capable I know you are, it would be irresponsible not to take precautions.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Lucas. Never. I swear.” 

“Even if you chose not to hurt me, or my Mom, you would eventually hurt others. Innocent people that don’t deserve to be harmed.”

“They weren’t innocent,” Trouble muttered, frowning down at his pillow while his ears drooped.

“If you started killing on your own again, you would be at risk of being caught.”

“I’d be careful.”

“You were lucky before we met, not careful. There’s an important difference.” Lucas sighed and stopped the back rub to run a hand down his face. My eyes are starting to burn. I really need to sleep. “If you left and law enforcement tied you to a murder, I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

“Why care what happens to me?” Trouble buried his face in the pillow. “I’m dangerous. I’m a criminal.”

“I care because you’ve been letting me get to know you. From what you’ve told me, you haven’t had many people in your life that care about you.” He put his hand on Trouble’s upper back. “I’d like to be someone that you can trust.”

“You won’t trust me,” he said, lifting his head to stare at the cuffs around his wrists, “but I have to trust you.” Trouble gave a single tug against the cuffs, then sighed and rested his chin on his pillow.

“We haven’t even known each other for a month yet. Please, give it time -- you living here, and us building trust with each other.” Lucas started stroking Trouble’s back again. “It’s only been my Mom and I for years, but...I’m glad you’re here now. Spending time with you can be a lot of fun, and I like that you can keep up with me when we train.” He smiled. “I wasn’t expecting that.” As he watched, Trouble’s ears slowly perked back up.

“I like training with you, too, especially at that park.” Trouble chewed his lip for a moment. “I like that we can talk, and that you really listen. You don’t treat me like I’m different when we’re talking, or out running.”

“I want to be your friend. Friends listen.” His smile widened as he gently touched the tip of Trouble’s ear with the back of his fingers. “And you’re not so different, not to me.”

Trouble whined softly and leaned into Lucas’ touch, slowly nuzzling his hand.

“I truly am sorry about the restraints.” He caressed Trouble’s other ear since he seemed to like having them touched, then gently stroked down the back of his head and neck. “I know you hate wearing them.”

“It’s worth it if you’re here.” Trouble’s eyes blinked halfway open to meet his gaze. “Please don’t leave me alone while I’m cuffed?”

“I won’t,” Lucas promised. “That wouldn’t be safe for you. Are you comfortable enough? Will you be able to sleep?”

“Yeah.” He squirmed for a moment under the blanket, inching a little further onto his pillow. “Thanks for...not using handcuffs, like in the car.”

“I was worried that those would hurt you. Handcuffs like that aren’t supposed to...to...” Lucas had to stop petting Trouble to cover a huge yawn. “To be put on anyone for too long.” He smiled and rubbed at his eyes next. “Sorry. I’m very tired. We should both try to sleep. Do you mind if I take off my prosthetics now?”

Trouble shook his head.

Lucas rolled onto his back and raised his right knee, fiddling with the fasteners on his prosthetic.

“Does it hurt to take them off and put them on?”

“Not exactly.” He kept working through another yawn. “If I’m on my feet for most of the day or I push myself too much, my legs ache and the attachment points hurt.”

“That sounds hard. I’m sorry, Lucas.”

“Oh.” He smiled as he glanced at Trouble. “It’s not so bad. I’m used to my prosthetics after all these years, and I know that I’m very lucky to have ones as well made as these. I wouldn’t be able to stand without them.” 

“Still.” It was Trouble’s turn to yawn. “It sucks that you got hurt at all.”

“Right after the accident, things were harder.” Lucas sighed as he worked the first prosthetic off and set it down over the side of the bed. Then he started on the second. “I used to wish that I could have my parents back. I told myself that I’d never complain about my injuries, or my prosthetics, or the pain, or anything else if I could just have them back.”

“They must’ve been good parents.”

“I loved them. They loved me.” His chest started to feel tight, even with the distraction of taking off his prosthetic. Lucas made himself take a deep breath in and out.

“I’m sorry you lost them.”

“Me, too.” He sighed again as he drew his second leg free and twisted to put the other prosthetic on the floor. “But I’ve got Mom, now, and you.” 

“Me?”

“Yes.” Lucas relaxed onto the other pillow and smiled at Trouble. “I know all of the changes are still hard for you, but I’m really glad you’re here, Trouble.”

Trouble stared for a few blinks, then buried his face in the pillow. 

He could see and hear Trouble’s tail wag under the blanket a few times. Lucas yawned again, then pulled up an app on his phone. “Ready for lights out?”

“Yeah. I can--” The metal cable snapped against the headboard slats as Trouble tried to rise. “Fuck.” His ears drooped before he looked over at Lucas. “Neither of us can reach the switch.”

“We don’t need to.” He twisted his wrist so Trouble could see the image on his device screen. He pressed a finger to the top of the screen and slowly drew his fingertip down to the bottom; the overhead lights dimmed with the motion. “All of the bulbs in the house can be accessed like this.”

“Get out,” Trouble breathed, eyes wide. He grinned. “That’s awesome!”

“When we get you a phone, I’ll show you how to use the app. You can set a program for the lights in your room if you want, so they’ll brighten, dim, turn on, or turn off on a schedule.”

“Promise?” he asked, tail wagging harder this time.

“Yes, of course.” He tapped the image of the light bulb and the room went dark. “Goodnight, Trouble.”

“‘Night, Lucas.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The real issue wasn’t hiding this kill from Kiv when he went home, though. Sahota was armed, on alert, and standing in the open. Sure, it was the quieter, VIP section of the club, but that still meant tons of witnesses. That and he was certain that Sahota would recognize him, even unshifted.

Luring him away from his post would cost him the element of surprise, and he wasn’t eager for a round two face off with the formidable human. Especially since he couldn’t tell if Sahota was the only one present from Midnight. There was probably backup outside in the form of a driver, or even a second guard hidden in plainclothes among the club goers. 

He chewed on the cocktail straw with his dull human teeth as he considered and discarded several implausible schemes to isolate Sahota. But Trouble froze when he saw Sahota move — standing aside to allow an older man in a suit to leave the booth. He watched the man’s lips move, clocked the possessive hand he put on Sahota’s shoulder before moving past him. Trouble wished he was close enough to catch their scents for the exchange. 

Well, hello handsome. Aren’t you interesting… Trouble noted the direction the man took, exiting the vip section to cut across the room, skirting the dance floor. Trouble slammed the last of his drink and slipped off his bar stool. Happily, the bar area was much closer to the restrooms than the VIP section. 

…

The bathroom stalls had floor to ceiling wooden walls and full doors for privacy. Trouble ducked into the first one to wait, pressing a sensitive, shifted ear to the door. His heart hammered against his ribs, then skipped a beat at the sound of the bathroom door swinging open and closed. 

He shook out his hands, trying to stay loose while tamping down the urge to spring out of the stall. If Sahota had accompanied the man he was guarding into the bathroom, Trouble would have to act fast. 

He had no way of knowing if they were both armed, so it was best to assume they were. No way to know which was the worse threat, though he suspected Sahota would be faster. He already knew firsthand that Sahota was quick, strong, and could operate extremely well despite pain and duress. Probably safest to take him out first, either way. 

He felt and heard a stall door close, followed closely by the soft click of the knob lock. He smiled. Now or never. He carefully opened his own stall as quietly as possible and peered out. A mirror ran along the wall behind the row of gleaming sinks. No Sahota. 

Waiting outside for your big boss man? Perfect. Looking fully human, Trouble walked to the middle sink and got out his eyeliner. He had to take slow, deep breaths while he pretended to touch up his eyes. Steady. He’ll be like any other human. I won’t give him the chance to let out a squeak for Sahota…

The muffled flush of a toilet drew his gaze to the door of the only closed stall, but he was looking at his own reflection when the stranger left the stall to join him at the sinks. Trouble made a point of scoping the man while he washed his hands. When their eyes met in the mirror, he ducked his chin and lowered his gaze.

“All by your lonesome tonight?” Trouble asked softly, glancing up through his lashes at the man, smiling. “I could help you with that,” he bit his lower lip and tucked the eyeliner back into his pocket. 

“Not interested.” The man briskly washed his hands.

Your scent says different, asshole. “I usually don’t give out free samples,” he murmured, moving close enough to touch and be touched. He reached out slowly, brushing his knuckles against the man’s still dripping ones. 

He gasped as the world blurred; in the span of a few racing heartbeats, Trouble found himself pinned face-first against the wall between two of the bathroom stalls, one arm twisted up behind his back.

“I never said you could touch me.”

”I-I’m sorry,” Trouble whimpered, not resisting the man’s hold. Huh. Did Sahota learn to be fast from you? “Please, I’ll go, okay? I didn’t mean to bother you.”

”I’m not.”

He gasped again as he felt fingers caress the side of his neck. “N-not what?”

”Bothered.”

”D-do you want my rates?” Trouble asked. He whined softly as the caress became a tight grip on the back of his neck. He swore under his breath as his cheek was forced against the wall.

”I don’t usually pay for this.”

”I could scream,” he whispered, shivering.

”You won’t.” 

The air was thick with the scents of cloves and smoke. It figures you’d get off on hurting people. He thought of Kiv and gulped audibly, forcing his own rage down. How many times did you put your hands on him, huh? You’re worse than the johns you sold his room key to.

The man drew Trouble off the wall and shoved him into a stall. 

Trouble stumbled in, one hand going to his aching shoulder. He opened his eyes wide as he stared at the man, cringing further back into the stall as he blocked the doorway.

”I’ll have that sample now.”

”Please,” he begged as his eyes teared up from not blinking. 

“No one works for me without proving their worth in advance.”

The first tears spilled down his cheeks and chewed his lip for a moment. Then, he backed up another step and sank shakily to his knees. The man didn’t smile, but it was impossible not to smell the cinnamony satisfaction that quickly flooded the stall.

“Take off your shirt.” The man closed the stall door behind himself. 

Trouble looked away and hugged himself, then went stiff, as if realizing he’d disobeyed. He drew a shaky breath and slowly found the man’s gaze before easing his skin-tight shirt up and over his head. He gasped and dropped it as the man nudged his knee with the toe of an expensive leather shoe.

”Knees apart,” the man ordered softly, hands at his sides while he thrust his hips forward expectantly.

Trouble did as he was told, then reached up to open the man’s fly. 

“Use your mouth.”

He flinched, but lowered his arms. The hardest part of loosening the button on the man’s trousers was choking down the urge to shift. His human teeth closed on fabric, but his mouth watered at the thought of sinking his real teeth into soft meat and ripping it free. He’d barely closed his eyes to enjoy what he could of the fantasy, only just tasted the tang of metal from the zipper tab when something cracked across his face. The blow fell so hard he’d needed both hands thrown out against the wall to save his head from knocking into it.

“Eyes up here while you do it.”

I’ll kill you. Trouble shook with hate as he raised one hand, holding it poised, hovering over his throbbing cheek. He tasted blood and nearly snarled, ready to shift and taste more -- gouts and gouts of it.

“Now, or I walk away.”

He held the man’s gaze and straightened up, blinking more tears down his cheeks as he got back into position. It took two tries before he could catch the zipper tab and drag it down. He could hear how hard he was breathing. He can’t think you’ll bite. He wants someone too afraid to fight back. Trouble made his breathing shake instead of slow. It made him cry so much the man’s face was a hateful blur above him. 

Fingers glanced against his ear, his temple.

Trouble nosed against the briefs peeking through the man’s open fly, then gently mouthed the firming erection trapped underneath. 

“Show me what you can do.” 

The man’s palm settled over his throbbing cheek, then his thumb rubbed through the wetness under Trouble’s eye, smearing eyeliner. Trouble’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his gaze up and didn’t shy from the contact. He took the elastic waist of the briefs in his teeth and drew them down. The erection that jutted free was dark and swollen. Trouble nuzzled it with his cheek, then took the tip into his mouth. He tongued precum from the slit before taking him deeper, bobbing his head.

“Sir?” The familiar voice was muffled, coming through the stall door.

Fuck. Maybe Sahota had that same unhelpful perceptiveness that Kiv did. Trouble swirled his tongue around Sahota’s boss’ cock, then sucked him in deep enough to gag. He kept his eyes on the man’s face. C’mon asshole, you know you want to finish...

“Five minutes,” the man replied after a sigh. His voice was steady. “I want the transport ready in ten.”

“Sir.”

Trouble couldn’t hear if the bathroom door opened again -- he was a little busy -- but he hoped that Sahota had gone. He could sense a hum building in his prey. Soon he would be able to tug that into himself. Once he started to feed, Trouble had the feeling that things would get interesting. That would be easier to deal with if Sahota wasn’t in the--

“Time’s wasting.” Hands cupped the back of Trouble’s head and jerked him forward.

He gagged, nose squished flat and buried in hair. His hands were instantly on the man’s hips; instinctive panic for air surged through him, chased instantly by the urge to shift. His eyes flooded with tears as he choked, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Not yet. Sahota’s close. Not yet. All it would take was one yell. The thought of being tased senseless or shot let him stay human. The hands released him, but Trouble only leaned back enough to cough and get in a gasp of air. 

“Choke yourself.”

Trouble held the man’s gaze, ran both hands up the backs of his legs to his ass. He pulled the man close as he leaned in, blinking away tears as he swallowed every inch. He drew back and repeated the full swallow, not breaking eye contact, again, and again. He could taste cloves and cinnamon, the scents were so thick in the air. Enjoy it, fucker. I’m the last you’ll ever have. 

Even sneaking air, he was growing lightheaded. When he tried to speed up, growing eager to feed and to breathe, a sudden cuff over his ear made him cough and gag so hard he nearly pulled off. Heat crept up his neck. His eyes flooded with tears. A hand at the back of his head pinned him to the man, choking.

“No.” 

The smell of cloves made his nose and throat burn, but Trouble didn’t struggle. 

“Stay.”

His body jerked with each heave. He grabbed fistfuls of the man’s slacks, anchoring himself to him. 

“That’s it.”

The humming under the man’s skin had swelled to a loud buzzing, like bass music through club speakers. Trouble tugged at the sensation, drawing it into himself with all his body’s desperation for oxygen behind it.

“Fuck.”

He was only dimly aware of the curse, of the man’s painful twisting grip on his left ear. Thrumming energy surged into him as the man climaxed, swamping his senses, making his grip on the man’s clothes numb from the strength of the vibration.

“You’ll do.”

Trouble was shoved backwards. His head clipped the rim of the toilet bowl as he fell on his back. The moments stretched out before his lungs dragged in a deep, ragged breath. He coughed and gasped again, disoriented. His entire body buzzed from how much he’d taken from the man. 

“...wh...what?” He heard the man crumple to the floor, his shoes squeaking and sliding against the floor tiles. 

Trouble got his feet on the floor and sat up. 

The man was slumped against the stall door, looking pale and shaky, arms limp at his sides, chin on his chest. 

“Don’t have a heart attack, old man.” He wiped his mouth and chin off on his arm as he moved in close. “Weak and unconscious is fine, but I need you alive.” Trouble smirked when the man tried to glare at him. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Vic.”

Vic’s eyelids fluttered as he mumbled something, the fingers of his right hand twitching.

“Something you need?” Trouble asked, helping himself to Vic’s pockets. There was a cell in the right pocket, a wallet in the back pocket, and a thin, metal case in the left pocket containing three familiar looking purple cards. “Recruiting clients and victims all in one evening, huh? You must be exhausted.” He chuckled, gripped Vic by the collar of his expensive shirt, and hauled him upright. He shifted and let the man get an eyeful of his sharp, thick teeth. “You should sleep. It’s the only way to recover from what I did to you.” He leaned in and nosed Vic’s cheek, and then his throat. 

All that Vic could do was tremble in Trouble’s grip.

He hummed appreciatively when he caught a whiff of cut grass. Anxious already? Ugh, this is gonna be so fucking fun. Trouble opened the stall door, turned Vic around, and shoved him to the floor.

...

“Sir? Hey, are you alright?” someone said, loud even through the bathroom door. “Sir? Oh my god!”

Sahota pushed it open. He entered slowly, body relaxed and ready. Nothing registered on his face as he took in the scene: Vic sprawled facedown on the floor, motionless, possibly unconscious.

“H-he needs help.” There was a young man, shorter and slender, dressed for a night of dancing. He had both hands over his mouth, black-lined eyes wide and tear-filled. “Oh god.”

Sahota scanned the restroom, one hand on the weapon at his hip as he moved to the far end where he could see that each open stall was empty.

“I’ll get help!” The young man scrambled out of the room.

With the room cleared, Sahota knelt at Vic’s side. He checked for a pulse, though he could see and hear that he was breathing. No blood, so what...? He gave Vic’s shoulder a shake, then rolled him over to scan for any visible injuries. 

Vic groaned softly. The muscles in his jaw flexed. His eyes opened a crack, but wandered, unfocused.

“Sir?”

After a stretch of stillness, Vic’s gaze found his. Sahota watched Vic raise an arm one handspan off the floor, two handspans, watched it reach toward him, then fall limply across Vic’s chest.

Sahota tapped his earpiece, then got his arms around Vic and lifted. He wrapped one of Vic’s arms around his shoulders and put the other around his waist before a voice spoke into his ear. 

“Almost to the entrance.”

“Skip the queue,” he ordered calmly. “Vic collapsed.” Sahota shouldered the door open, half-carrying, half-dragging Vic along. They were conspicuous, but there was nothing for it. Once they were out of the club, he could do a proper assessment. There were supplies for emergencies in the transport. 

“What?”

“Evac, now.”

...

Trouble had no difficulty spotting the transport he needed. It was sleek and black, with windows tinted too heavily to see through. There was a valet in a uniform and name tag looking frazzled, bowed slightly and speaking heatedly with the driver. He headed over, pulling the most distraught expression he could manage. 

“Hey!”

The valet straightened, frowning at the sight of Trouble rounding the car and approaching.

“It’s a m-medical emergency. Please! He collapsed in the bathroom.” Trouble reached out a hand to the valet, who backed off immediately. “Someone’s bringing him now.”

The driver’s door popped open. Trouble caught it, blocking the driver from climbing out.

“What?” The driver’s eyes were wide enough for the whites to show around his stylish oval sunglasses.

Trouble put a hand on his face and forced him back, thrusting him hard enough to send him onto the passenger’s side. He slipped in and yanked the door shut after him. In a flash, he shifted, and clamped one hand over the driver’s mouth and the other around his throat. No time for a mess, he thought with a pang of disappointment. A rough jerk snapped the driver’s neck, and Trouble looked up in time to see a pair of men exiting the club. 

The pair of bouncers and the few smokers at the entrance all parted to let Sahota hustle Vic through to the transport.

Trouble hurriedly patted down the driver and found what he needed at once -- a stun baton, holstered at his hip. He grinned as he snatched it, along with a black hat that had fallen off the driver’s head onto the seat. He crammed on the hat as he scanned the dashboard screen. He tapped to unlock the doors the moment before Sahota pulled the rear door open. 

Wordless, Sahota heaved Vic into the car with a grunt, then closed the door behind him. 

Trouble couldn’t help smirking as he crouched on the front seat, then sprang. 

...

Sahota was getting Vic settled against the backrest when his entire body locked up, every muscle firing at once as a shock coursed through him. It felt like he’d taken a bat to the back of his neck, but the blow didn’t stop. His yell was caught behind gritted teeth. He couldn’t turn his head or dodge. His hands, still on Vic, clenched tighter and tighter.

He knew instantly what was happening, though he couldn’t feel the prongs at the end of the stun baton. The pain was crushing. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. The agony went on, and on, until the world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~