Work Header

Sub Level 9 (draft)

Chapter Text

Jackson slowly awoke, dimly aware of something tight but not constricting around his neck, of being held in place; an arm wrapped tightly around his chest, another curled around his abdomen, and he can feel the heat of the person behind him. He catches the scent in the air; Scott, his Mate. Then the memories of the previous night come back to him.

He’s a werewolf, he actually became a werewolf. Just like is Dom is; and Scott is his Mate as well as his Dom, and werewolves mate for life. Scott promised him it is for life.

He runs his finger over the collar around his neck and smiles; it’s only coming off when he showers, otherwise he is to wear it all the time, his Dom’s orders. The order made him feel so contented. He looks down is body and a small regret surfaces.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks from behind him; the concern evident in his voice.

“There aren’t any marks,” Jackson turns his head towards Scott, “normally when you used your claws, or bit me, or spanked me there were marks the next day at least. There aren’t any; I liked it when you marked me.”

“I’ll just need to mark you again, and more often,” Scott smiles at him, “but they’ll always heal and I can’t use the toys Allison does with Jed, ‘cause I’m a werewolf too and can’t touch them. Sorry love.”

Jackson can’t help but smile; Scott called him love. His love, his Mate.

“Love you Sir.”

“Love you too Jacks,” Scott smiles back at him, “My Jacks.”

Jackson is in the shower, the water sluicing down the plains of his back, abs and thighs. As he glides a hand down across his chest he has a flash of red; of the water running off him coloured red, of blood coating him and his hands thick with it. He hears screaming; terrified screaming as he stares at his hands coated in red, as he backs into the corner of the shower, sinking to the tiled floor.

Hands grasp his hands, the red vanishing as Scott pulls him into his embrace. Scott’s clothes are wet and clinging to him under the cascade of water; just as Jackson clings to him, his tears hidden in the shower. He knows now that he was the one screaming; screaming at the memory of what the Kanima, what he had done.

“It wasn’t you, it wasn’t you,” Scott comforted him; “It was the Kanima, not you.”

Jackson could have taken comfort from those words, except he had been the Kanima; if the Kanima had been something separate from himself then he wouldn’t now be starting to remember what the Kanima had done.


Stiles lips are puffy and swollen; stretched around Derek’s hard length, pushing against his knot. Derek has been fucking his mouth on and off for over an hour; Stiles is lying on his bed, on his stomach, with Derek on his knees in front of him. Derek leans over Stiles’ back and spanks his ass; timing the swats to Stiles’ ass with his own thrusts into Stiles’ mouth, adding darker reds to his already scarlet ass.

Stiles isn’t hard; his cock is locked in a CB6000 chastity device. Derek had spanked him with the hairbrush last night; punishment for lying to his father, and for trying to hide what happened with Gerard from him. After he had tied to Stiles and they had both come he had attached the ring of the CB6000 around Stiles cock and balls, then slide the sheath over his flaccid shaft; the second part of his punishment. Stiles is not going to be allowed to come again for a week.

A week is not a long period, but Derek knows that Stiles still thinks he is being a little harsh; Stiles was only trying to protect them. Not that Stiles has said that to his Mate, his Dom, but Derek knows his Mate, his sub, and knows what he is thinking.

Scott is at Deaton’s animal clinic, he’s feeding the animals and is a little anxious; Deaton hadn’t contacted him yet. He should have arrived at the facility with Matt by now and called him. He hasn’t called. He hasn’t answered Scott’s calls either.

He knows he can take care of feeding the animals and cleaning out the cages; and Deaton has called in another veterinarian to deal with the medical side of the clinic while he is gone. But Deaton was only going to be gone for two days; it’s only been one day so far, but the fact he can’t be contacted is worrying Scott.

Why? What’s gone wrong? Has Matt completely converted into a Kanima? Has he attacked Deaton and the drivers?

Scott’s not sure how to find out; or how to contact the clinic Deaton was taking Matt to. He’ll need to talk to the Sheriff.


Scott stops at the Sheriff’s house after he leaves the clinic; Stiles isn’t there, he’s with Derek looking at apartments. Derek is moving to something suitable for a Dominant with a submissive to top; and for a werewolf with a Mate. While Stiles isn’t home his dad is not alone.

Chris Argent is kneeling in the centre of the living room. He’s naked, his hands clasped behind his head and his knees spread at shoulders width; his back, ass and thighs are stripped with red welts. His eyes are blown and unfocussed, and his cock hard and dripping.

As the Sheriff passes him to sit in his chair he runs a hand through Chris’ hair; Chris leans into the touch, oblivious to Scott’s presence.

Scott explains his concerns about Deaton not having contacted him, and not answering Scott’s own calls to him. The Sheriff says he’ll see what he can find out, and he’ll make Chris to look into it too.


Melissa wanted to slam the door shut.

She couldn’t; as usual for him he had stuck his foot in and brushed her aside as he pushed the door open and walked straight in. Typical; arrogant, Dominant bastard.

“What are you doing here?” she means to snarl at him; but it sounded timid and afraid even to her.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chides her, “Mel, you used to have such better manners when I was your Dom. You knew how to speak to your betters then; now see how you greet me without a Dominant to keep you in line,” her eyes drop the floor, her head dipped; everything in her stance submissive and demure, “that’s better, now why don’t you try greeting me properly.”

She knew he wasn’t asking.

He was barely there and gone again, but it felt like hours; and he was coming back. Within minutes he had managed to reduce her to the near wreck she had been when she had finally managed to have her collaring overturned, and their divorce finalised. He had managed to rip her self-confidence to shreds over the years, and then when she fought for custody of Scott. Now within minutes of being back he has her calling him Sir; he is not her Sir, not anymore, never again.

But he made it clear he is back for Scott; and the thought of having to fight for her son again scares her.


He escaped as they got close to the compound; hid himself in the shadows and darkened corners, he made himself unnoticeable. He couldn’t get Matt out.

When he was able to check his head he found that they had at least made a passable job of cleaning up the damage they did; he was sure he heard the glass crack as he was slammed against it.

He can’t use his cell-phone; they could use it to track his location. He can’t use is credit cards, or debit cards, for the same reason; and he’s starting to run low on actual cash.

He can’t head back to Beacon Hills; they’d be looking for him there, but he needs to word to Bianca, Ms Morrell, and to Scott. He’s closer to Los Angeles than Beacon Hills anyway; and there is one person that he could trust to get a message to them, warn them. He just hopes that the address he has in Century City is still valid.


Isaac is on his knees in the centre of the bed; his hands are cuffed to his collar, his face down in the pillows as he moans into them, his hands grasping and claws craping at the back of his head. Danny decided to cuff his hands to his collar this time as he didn’t want to have to try and hide another ripped pillow from his parents.

Isaac’s legs are held spread apart by a two spreader-bars; one attached to his ankles and the other at his knees. His hard cock and balls are pulled back painfully between his legs; squeezed tight in Danny’s grasp. Danny’s tongue laps at the head of Isaac’s hardness before returning to delve into his relaxed and open hole.

Isaac can’t think, all he can do is feel; Danny has had him bound on the bed for... he can’t remember, Danny’s tongue breaches inside him again and his instinct is to move, to push back on it to have Danny fill him; but his not to move and he’s fighting his instinct, fighting to obey his Dom.

Danny slips two fingers inside Isaac’s split slaked hole; searching out his sweet spot, brushing the tips of his fingers over it before replacing them with his tongue and bringing his hand down on Isaac’s ass with a SMACK.

Isaac is caught between moaning and gasping; between the fingers and tongue breaching inside him and the hand spanking his upturned ass. His shaft hard and painful held in his Doms’ grip, dripping his wanton need; his need for his Dom, for Danny.

Danny has brought Isaac close several times; he’s close himself and can’t wait any longer. He slicks his own hard shaft with lube and pushes through the open ring, burying himself in Isaac in one thrust.

As Danny pistons in and out of Isaac he fists Isaac’s own cock lightly. Isaac keens at the need of a firmer grip, a tighter grasp to being him the release his body yearns for. As Danny’s pace increases with his own need his grip on Isaac tightens; releasing himself inside Isaac he brings him with him, collapsing over Isaac’s back.

Isaac is plugged, keeping Danny’s seed in him. He still has the cuffs and the collar on, but the cuffs are no-longer attached to the collar allowing him to wrap his arms around his Dom as they both lay sated in the bed. The spreader bars are put away in the chest of toys they keep at the foot of the bed.

Danny is asleep, though Isaac is still awake; worrying. He doesn’t want to lose Danny, but he can’t stop him; tomorrow Danny is going to ask Derek give him the bite.

Isaac doesn’t think he’ll get much sleep until he knows his Dom is safe; that either the bite has taken, the transformation begun or that Derek says no. Derek saying no would allow Isaac to sleep faster than spending days waiting to know if the bite was killing his Dom.

Maybe, just maybe, a little bit of the sleeplessness is the guilt he feels in hoping that Derek says no. Isaac knows why his Danny wants the bite; so that Danny can help better protect him from the threats they face, but Danny has to also know why he doesn’t want him to risk it. Isaac would rather have his Dom as he is than risk losing him to a bite that doesn’t take.


Matt is confused; scared even, he doesn’t know how long he has been here. There is no clock on any wall, no calendar, that he has seen. His only perception of time has been the diming of the lights to sleep, the food that he has been given to eat.

He doesn’t know what they gave him before they hooked him up to this device. There are wires connected to points all over his body, his temples, over his chest, his abs. There’s a cock ring keeping him hard, they must have given him something to make him hard, and wires connected to the metal plug in his ass.

He is strapped down and his head is locked in position to watch the monitor, ear-bud headphones are placed in his ears. The red-headed woman in the white coat keeps saying things like ‘this will make you a better submissive for your Dom‘, ‘make you more compatible with your Dom‘. Then she is taking into digital recorded, “Re-alignment phase one on subject three ay dash zero zero one. This phase is related to the re-aligning of the subject’s D/s to increase submissiveness, and aligning the subject’s SM to give the subject a masochistic profile.”

Then the video starts.

The submissive is naked, tied to St Andrews cross, their back is covered in criss-cross of angry red welts; their erection thrusting into the air hard and dripping as their Dominant brought the cane down on his ass, again, and again, and again. The sounds fill Matt’s ears, the WOOSH of the cane as it is pulled through the air with the forceful swing of the Dom’s arm; the CRACK as the cane connects with the skin of the submissive raising another red welt across their body. The submissive’s cock never flags; remaining hard and throbbing until the Dom tells him to come. The submissive releases their load on the floor before them, just from their Dominants command and the feel of the cane on their body.

Matt can’t help but think of Scott doing that to him, caning him until he comes; but he isn’t a masochist, he knows he isn’t, and yet his erection doesn’t soften. It hardens as his body tingles, confusing his thought and mixing his desires.

The scene on the video fades from the caning of the submissive on the cross and changes to the sub in a cage.

The sub is on his hands and knees; there is no room for the submissive to stand in the cramped space of the cage. His crouched figure filling the confines the metal barred enclosure; the welts across his back, his ass and thighs are clearly visible.

The Dominant walks towards the cage, dressed in black leather jeans and knee-high black leather engineering boots. The belt around the jeans is open and hanging loose; the button fly open, the Dominants cock hanging out, half-hard, the foreskin covering the head. Matt wonders if his Dominant is cut or uncut, he has seen Scott naked in the showers at school but then he didn’t pay attention to him, didn’t notice, he wishes he had, wishes he could recall what Scott’s cock looked like.

The Dominant holds his flaccid shaft over the head of the submissive and releases a flow of warm golden piss into the subs hair, then aims the flow over his submissive’s back before ordering the sub to turn his face upwards and open his mouth.

As the flow fills the waiting mouth of the submissive Matt gasps at the sensations tingling through him, the need to come; but he can’t, the ring fitted around his hard shaft stopping any chance of release. His mind full of images of Scott flooding his body, his mouth, marking him as Scott’s property.

The scene on the video fades from the cage; a series of other scenes play out between the Dominant and his submissive in the video before Matt.

+The submissive in bondage, legs held spread, body arched over backwards, a row of pegs lining each side of the submissive torso; the Dominant playing his fingers over the pegs before sharply pulling the string connecting them to rip them from the subs body.

+The submissive again tied to the cross as the Dominant strikes his upper back, ass and thighs with two floggers, the leather tails raising the heated red blush to the submissive’s skin.

+The submissive crawling along behind his Dominant, naked with his balls locked in a humbler; the Dominant takes a light flogger and begins to whip the submissive’s balls with it.

+The submissive gagged, collared with hands cuffed at his back, kneeling over his Dominant as he raises and lowers himself on his Dominant’s cock.

Each scene is played out in Matt’s head; replacing the Dom and sub in the video with Scott and himself. His body singing with the need of his Master’s... no his Dominant’s touch, his Dom’s permission to fall over the edge.

The video stops. He is disconnected from the wires, the plug is removed from his body; but the ring is left locked around his hard shaft as he is returned to his white room. He sleeps, he wakes and the process is repeated; and repeated, time after time.


Lydia was worried, and she didn’t like the look staring back at her from the mirror; it didn’t things to her face that made her look less than perfect. And she does not allow people to see her as less than perfect.

There is no answer to either Erica’s or Boyd’s phone. She’s even called Derek, yes she called Derek Hale he is their Alpha after all and he should know where his pack is; Derek hadn’t heard from them, he hadn’t been able to contact them either.

Nor had their parents heard from them; they’ve reported them missing at the Sheriff’s office, it’s been more than twenty four hours now.

Derek is meeting up with Allison and Jed after he’s viewed an apartment with Stiles. They know that Allison’s father and grandfather had held them in the basement. They found out that Rebeccah had freed them so they are going to try and track their scent, hoping that there is still a clear enough trace of it for Derek and Jed to follow.

Derek told her to wait until she hears from one of them. Like hell, she’ll be there too. They maybe Derek’s betas, but they are her subs.


Melissa is sitting on Peter’s lap on her couch, his arms around her protectively. It’s been so long since she felt the need of someone else to protect her.

When he arrived to take her out for their coffee date she had been so on edge, so nervous and jumping at anything he clearly knew something was wrong. When he asked her, the concern in his voice the pleading in his eyes made her just breakdown and tell him everything through sobs and tears.

So now they are sitting quietly in her home, her head resting on his shoulder as he pets her hair; then the doorbell rings. Melissa tenses in Peter’s arms.

“It’s okay,” his voice calm and soothing, “I’ll answer it.”

Peter can smell the arrogance before he opens the door; the man reeks of it, standing there in his jeans and tweed jacket, the sneer curled on his lips.

“Does my ex-wife know what a mad dog she’s allowing to fuck her?”

Shut up,” Mr McCall commands as Peter is about comment; Peter is surprised to find himself closing his mouth, remaining silent and complying with the command. McCall pushes Peter back towards the living room where Melissa is. Peter is about to retaliate when McCall sprays him with something from an aerosol can, then the scent hits him; wolfsbane.


As he came to everything around him was foggy, there was a constant high-pitched whine in his head; he couldn’t quite focus and everything was white. He tried to lift his arms but they would barely move from his sides. Trying to raise his head to look he realised that his head was being held back; there was a collar around his neck, chained to whatever he was laying on top of.

He turned his head as much as he could, casting his eyes down to look at his wrists; it was difficult to focus but they too were cuffed and chained to metal table he was on. He tried to rip the leather cuffs from the metal chains; straining all his strength into the task, but he couldn’t.

Raising his head as far as the collar and chains would allow he gazed down his body. He was naked; his skin dark against the shiny metal of the table and the whiteness of the room. His legs were also cuffed and chained.

There were questions buzzing around in Boyd’s head; questions that he couldn’t quite grasp, that he couldn’t quite make into anything more than nebulous wisps that barely could be thought.

Why was it so difficult to think?

Why couldn’t he focus on anything?

What was the noise buzzing in his head?

Where the hell was he?

And where was Erica?

A voice. He could make out a voice; it was distorted, almost as if he was underwater. It was a female voice, he didn’t recognise it. Then he became aware of something, the woman speaking was in the room with him. He heard the click-clack sound of her heels on the hard surface of the floor as she walked towards him; he vision was still blurred and she was indistinct, except for the copper red hair, cut short, and the white of the lab coat she was wearing.

The chains holding him down rattled as the instinct to cover his lower region kicked in; but there was no give or reach, and his hands floundered at his sides.

“Stay calm,” there was no emotion to the words, “you’ll still be feeling disoriented, vision and hearing will be affected. It is possible that you are having difficulty with focusing and attention.”

“I... foggy... noise...” he couldn’t put the words together; he wanted to say ‘I can’t think, everything looks foggy, I hear a whining noise’. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Don’t worry,” the red headed woman in the white coat stated, “It will pass three dash one one seven. It is just an after effect of the procedure. We have fitted a small implant in the back of your neck to the spinal cord. It sends a small electrical charge to keep you from being able to utilise your supernatural abilities.” What procedure? Implant attached to his spinal cord? Was she referring to him as ‘three dash one one seven’?

“We’ve fitted a similar device to three dash one one six, the Type-3 female that was captured with you. We assume she is your mate. I’m going to check on her now.”

Type-3 female captured with him; it could only be Erica. Erica is here somewhere too.

She turned and walked away, her white coat blurring into the white walls; he could only tell where she was from the red of her hair, and the click-clack of her shoes as she strode. There was a WOOSH and HISS; as if air was rushing into a vacuum. He presumed it to be some kind of door opening; then she was gone.

He doesn’t know where he and Erica are, who the people that have them are, or what they are doing. The only thing he does know is that they need to escape.

Chapter Text

The click-clack of the high heeled shoes on the hard flooring warned of her approach. General Diane Cole looked up from the report she was reading; Dr Christine Raines red hair bounced in its short cut bob, the white lab coat flowing behind her as she strode towards the General’s desk.

“Doctor,” General Cole greets the woman as she sits in the chair opposite her, “care to explain the results in this report?” The General’s stern gaze is unwavering; Dr Raines is unmoved by the General’s demeanour.

“I thought it was self-explanatory,” Raines smile is disingenuous, “Two of the type-3 males expired under testing, one type-3 female expired and two type-4 males.”

We can’t afford such losses, Doctor,” the General barks back at her, “this project is not sanctioned and cannot afford to draw attention to itself by your tests creating this level of turnover; replacing these subjects may not be possible, especially the type-4s.”

“We already have the two new type-3 subjects, a mated pair I’m sure; and the new type, the 3A, is proving interesting.” Raines can’t keep the interest out of her voice, “While we still believe that there is some relation to the type-3 it is clearly more reptilian. While its transformation has slowed it has not entirely stopped; its transformation is more evident during the sessions to enhance its submissive profile, the subliminal reprogramming of his profile is working except where he is being subjected to something that he believes his Dominant would not approve of.”

“Agent McCall should be bringing in his son; the subjects registered Dominant. That may help study of the type-3a.” The General looks over the report again before her attention returns to the doctor, “How many Type-4 subjects are left?”

“We still have two.”

“Try not to lose them, you know how rare the werecats are,” the General fixes her gaze directly on Dr Raines eyes, “and try to remember the purpose of this project is to improve the country’s military forces.”

“Of course General.” Dr Raines smile is still false; but General Cole knows just how far she can, and can’t, trust the doctor.


Derek and Rebeccah meet Allison and Jed at the Argent’s house; Derek didn’t expect Lydia to be there, but she was there. He had expected her to back down, to go home where she would be safe, when he said she couldn’t go with them to search for Boyd and Erica; she didn’t. Instead she stated that ‘she will be going to help search for them; he may be their alpha, but she is their Dom and has every right to help find them‘.

Derek is about to argue, to put all his alpha and Dominant authority into his voice and ensure she is safe when Rebeccah interrupts with ‘We don’t have time for this‘. So the five of them go tracking the scent of Erica and Boyd; well, Derek tracks their scent. He is their alpha; their pissed off alpha who does not like being railroaded into a situation where a human is putting themselves in potential danger, especially one who has no discernable skills to defend themselves.

The trail is faint; criss-crossed through the city with a myriad other odours after more than a day since they disappeared, but the level of fear that spiked their emotions had strengthened the scent of them. Their scent was still discernable, still there; just. It takes time, but Derek is able to follow the fading scent of his missing betas to the edge of the woods; to the edge of the Hale property, they were heading to him.

Their scent trail is stronger out of the city, but not much; just less covered, fewer other smells overlaying Erica’s and Boyd’s trail. It leads them to a clearing when there is a sudden criss-cross of the traces of many people assaulting Derek’s and Jed’s senses. Among the smells the hint of the two betas being dragged to the unmistakable stench of diesel, metal and oil. The tyre tracks partially leading the way back to the dirt trail and then tarmac road.

Everyone concludes it must be hunters.

It had been a draining night, both physically and emotionally. When they got back to the city Derek had gone to Stiles, Rebeccah back to her hotel room and Lydia didn’t want to be alone; so she stayed with Allison and Jed. Allison’s father wasn’t around; hadn’t been the last couple of days apparently. Lydia had slept in the bed with Allison while Jed curled up on the floor near Allison’s side of the bed.

Lydia wished she was in her own bed with Boyd and Erica curled around her.


Rick McCall was enjoying himself; after all he needed to find some way to pass the time until his son arrived home. He hadn’t really needed to use the aconite, that was just to get the wolf’s attention; and really what was his former sub thinking. She clearly hadn’t known the ‘Dom‘ in her house wasn’t human.

The wolf, Peter he thinks he heard Melissa call it, was a challenge; but he had still managed to influence it. He had the wolf hold her while he bound her to one of the dining chairs; each leg tied to a leg of the chair at the ankle and the knee, each arm tied to the back of the chair. The rope pulled up between her breasts and looped around her neck. Ropes are bound tight around each breast holding them out from her body; clamps biting into her nipples. He’s forcing her to watch as he makes the wolf submit to him; showing her that it isn’t good enough to be her Dom, that she still needs him to be her Dom.

He made the wolf crawl around the floor on all fours, following him, begging him to use it, to spank it, fuck it, let it suck his cock, drink his piss. He could see it fight his control; that it didn’t understand why it was obeying him. Melissa knew; Scott knew, if it hadn’t been for his son his family would still have been together. He could have taught Scott how to use his influence. He already knew that Scott was going to be stronger than he was; Scott had been able to resist him then, to break Melissa from his control.

He didn’t blame his son; he had thought that he was doing the right thing. He had thought he was protecting his mom, but she was weak; she needed his control, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to influence her like that. Like he can with the wolf. It’s not a gift that works on everyone; there are those that are strong enough to resist. Like the General and Doctor Raines; he’d been subtle when he tested them, made sure that they wouldn’t know he tried. He’s not stupid.

Rick smirks as he looks down at the werewolf, transformed and humping against his leg; it’s not allowed to come, so it won’t, it can’t. Not until it convinces him to skin it alive, it so badly wants him to; Rick told it that it did, so it does. He won’t actually skin it alive; that would be sick. He drags his belt through the air again, pulling it down hard over the wolf’s back; the end curls under the curve of its’ ass, striking the creatures balls and eliciting a whimper of pain as it continues to thrust itself against his leg and beg him to cut it, to peel its’ skin from its body, to allow it to come.

Somewhere deep in his own mind Peter is both appalled and horrified at his own actions. He isn’t a submissive and he isn’t a masochist. Why is he obeying the commands of this man? How is he controlling him so utterly? Why can he not stop and strike back? Peter feels the fear seep out, it dampens his eyes with tears until the man tells him again how much he wants this; then he calms in the knowledge that it’s true.


Scott drove his mom’s car back to Jackson’s after he left the Sheriff’s house. He couldn’t put it off any longer; he was going to have to tell Jackson about claiming Matt as his second submissive. But throughout the night Scott couldn’t bring himself to tell Jackson; he couldn’t find the words to explain why he did it, knowing what Matt had done to Jackson and how much it was affecting him, hurting him.

The next morning Scott decided to take Jackson back to his own house; his mom was working that morning, she would need the car to get there, so they would be alone in the house, he’d have time to explain to Jackson.

They were silent on the drive from Jackson’s to his own home; all Scott had told his Mate was that he wanted them to have some alone time. They both could feel the other’s tension through their growing bond.

That tension intensified when they arrived at Scott’s; they could both caught the mix of scents coming from the house; they had expected Scott’s mom to be there, waiting for Scott to return with the car so she could go to work. It was the other scents that caused Scott’s instant reaction; it was all too new for Jackson, he couldn’t discern the different scents, but Scott’s sudden reaction when he exited the car, his rush from the car and through the front door of the house told him they weren’t good.

Stop!“ Scott roared, putting all his power and influence behind the word as he rushed into the living room; everyone in the room stopped, it almost seems as if time responds to his command. It doesn’t; it’s just the adrenaline rush caused from the shock of the sight that greets him heightening his senses; allowing him to take in every aspect of the scene before him.

Scott’s mom is bound to a chair, gagged and forced to watch a naked Peter, bound and his knees as Scott’s father fucks his mouth. Scott’s dad pulls himself out of Peter’s mouth; neither Peter nor Melissa move from their frozen position. Jackson gasps as he stops on his heels, peering over his shoulder. They both catch the hint of wolfsbane in the air.

“Well Scotty,” Scott’s father’s grin is feral as he turns to face him, “I thought you said you’d never use your ability, now you seem quiet adapt,” he turns his gaze over Melissa and Peter, “and influential.”

“Shut up Leon,” Scott snarls at his father, knowing the use of his given name would rile him; he preferred to use his middle name Richard or Rick, “what are you doing here?”

“Now do you want me to ‘shut up‘ or should I tell you why I’m here?” he doesn’t keep the derisive sneer out of his voice.

The daggered stare that Scott sends his father gives his answer in the silence.

“Fine, and you know I prefer to use Rick as my name“ his father calmly replies, “I’m here about talk to you about Deaton and that second submissive you claimed, Matt Daehler.”

Scott can feel Jackson’s shock as he stills behind him; his father keeps talking.

“You’ve really done a number on him from what I hear; the people that intercepted the car taking them to the facility, that Deaton had arranged to treat him at, say he’s quite convinced that his Dominant will tear the place, and them, apart...”

“What have they done with Matt and Deaton?” Scott interrupts his father with a snarl.

Jackson was waiting for Scott to deny that he had taken a second submissive; because if he was going to take a second sub he would have told Jackson, and it wouldn’t be Matt; it would not be one of the people who had controlled him as the Kanima. The fact that Scott doesn’t pains him in a way he didn’t think was possible; he turns and flees from the house.

Scott turns calling after his Mate; he’s torn between going after Jackson and protecting his mom from the monster that has invaded their home.

“I guess that was your other sub and he didn’t know about Matt, that wasn’t very smart Scotty was it?” his father’s tone is taunting, “you clearly used your ability on Matt, and even now it somehow hasn’t worn off, why not on the jock that just ran out of here; you clearly need to keep him in line.”

“Just tell me what you’re doing here Dick and get out,” there’s power and anger in Scott’s words.

“Don’t try that with me, you know it won’t work,” there is a hint of uncertainty at the edge of his words.

“You’re not sure of that, so answer before I really try,” Scott’s voice doesn’t hide the acrimony he feels.


Jackson runs; he just runs and isn’t sure where he is going, running on instinct. He was angry with his Mate, his Dom, who had claimed a second submissive; and not just any submissive as his, no he claimed and was recognised as Matt’s Dom. The Matt who had controlled and made Jackson murder people when he was the Kanima.

The thought stopped him in his tracks. What was he doing? Where was he going?

His instinct was to go to his Mate, or his Alpha; but he couldn’t go to Scott, not just now, and he didn’t want to go to Derek. He walked aimlessly, lost in his thoughts; why would Scott do this? It didn’t make sense.

He finds himself outside Lydia’s house just as she is returning after spending the night staying at the Argent’s with Allison; they had searched for Boyd and Erica. He’s not sure why; he hasn’t really spoken with her since... well, since they broke up really.

“Jackson, what...” she takes one look at him and stops, she doesn’t ask what he’s doing here like she was going to, “are you okay?”

At the jerky shake of his head ‘no’ she leads him inside.

Sitting on her bed he pulls his knees up against his chest, wraps his arms around his legs as he tells her what Scott has done; claimed Matt as his submissive, even after everything that Matt had done to him. He tells her how he can’t understand why Scott would do that.

Her words jar with his own feelings as she verbally attacks Scott, calling him ‘a pathetic unfeeling Dominant only out for his own satisfaction‘, ‘gloating in the fact he can claim more than one submissive‘, ‘not looking out for Jackson’s needs‘.

He counters everything she says, he knows Scott ensures that he takes care of his needs as well as his own, he knows Scott isn’t the kind of Dominant to gloat over his right to collar more than one submissive; and he knows Scott cares for him, that he must have had a reason for claiming Matt.

At the arch of her eyebrow he realises that she knew he already knew that.

“So why didn’t you talk to him about it and find out what his reasons were?”

He drops his head onto his knees at her question, ‘why didn’t he? Scott’s his Mate, he can feel his emotions through the empathic bond between them, he knows how his Mate feels about him; why did he panic and think he was losing him?

“Go find your Dom and talk to him Jacks,” Lydia says giving him a playful shove off her bed.

“Thanks Lyd,” the curl of a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “you’re a good friend.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she sternly replies; but her smile belies the seriousness of her voice.


Christine Raines is reviewing the results of the testing carried out on the Type-3A so far. It was getting close to her three days off; she needed to ensure that everything was in order and that the technicians had clear instructions to follow while she was gone.

She has injected him with the modified T5793X serum; she followed her father’s original formulation closely, but the melanistic strain of pantera tigris she replaced. The results of her father’s experiment had killed him; she wanted to create something that could be controlled.

So far the subject has returned negative results, the serum has shown no signs of affecting him; it’s there in his bloodstream, but it is inert, inactive. Her previous subjects had shown positive results in the first twenty-four hours; the RNA in the serum bonding with and mutating the subjects cells. However, over the thirty six hours and the three injections of the serum three ay dash zero zero one had shown no reaction.

If she could identify the reason that could be the key to provide the results her father intended to provide; without the transformation cycle taking effect.


Scott was pissed; seriously pissed.

His anger at that man had not lessened any during his shift at the clinic; the animals had picked up on it and that had caused them to be agitated and nervous around him. He was leaning out the cages in the back as he recalled the events earlier.

He couldn’t believe that Dick expected him to go and help him with whatever the group he was working with were trying to achieve; it was for the greater good, the benefit of the country, or so he said. They were going to give humans an equal footing with the supernatural beings of the world. WTF?

They needed him to help convince Deaton that their goals were in the countries best interest; but that didn’t make sense. Deaton wasn’t stupid and if they were working for the greater good Deaton would see that; and why would they need Scott to help convince him, why couldn’t Dick persuade him, influence his thoughts? Scott thought that he might have accidently influenced Deaton into giving him a raise once; though he wasn’t sure.

Once the asshole had left Peter and his mother were both on edge around him; he’s still not sure what Peter was doing there. He still doesn’t trust, and certainly not around his mother; he remembers how vulnerable he made her last time, how long it took for her confidence to return. He doesn’t want Peter around her taking advantage.

After he had called the Sheriff and told him about Deaton and Matt being kidnapped by some group for something to do with making humans like supernaturals; he called Derek too. He brought Derek up to date on what Dick had told him and let him know that the Sheriff was having Chris Argent check his contacts for any info on hunters that might be working with such a group.

He had wanted to go after Jackson, they needed to talk, but the vet standing in for Deaton had needed him to come in for his shift. As soon as he had finished cleaning up he was out of here and tracking his submissive down; he needed Jackson to understand that he was important to him, why couldn’t he feel that through their bond?


Jackson is driving his Porsche; after leaving Lydia’s he headed back to his. He knew Scott was working now, so he decided he would drive to Deaton’s and pick his Dom up from work; then they could talk.

Suddenly the truck in front of him veered across the road blocking both lanes; Jackson slammed on the brakes in time to avoid hitting it. At the sight of two people getting out the truck, dressed head to toe in black, their faces covered by a black ski-mask, Jackson throws the car into reverse; only for another truck to pull out across the road behind him.

He figures they must be human, probably hunters, and that his best option is to make a run for it. Jackson dives out the passenger side door, barely makes two steps before he feels the barbed sting through his clothes and the electricity courses through him. His howl echoes through the stillness of the night before he blacks out.


The asshole is standing under a streetlight outside the clinic when Scott emerges after his shift ends; the vet has already left, leaving Scott to lock up.

“Scott,” the asshole walks towards him, “if you would give me a chance I could show you that the people I’m working with are not some domain of evil; they are not the dark side. We could work together.” Scott keeps walking towards his bike chained against the nearby post.

“Seriously, you’re throwing Star Wars references at me?” Scott can’t believe the gall of the man, he unchains his bike, “why would I want to have anything to do with you?”

“Scott, I am your father.”

Scott turns to the man with a look of disgust.

“Actually, the quote should be ‘No, I am your father‘, to which Luke goes ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO‘; which is pretty much what I am doing in my head right now.”

“Scott, you may not believe me but I am trying to mend some bridges here,” Rick smiles at his son. Scott doesn’t believe the smile, he can’t believe it’s genuine; Rick continues, “the people I work with know that you are Matt’s Dominant, they know that I am your father, they believe that Deaton has knowledge that is key to what they are working on, and they know that you work with him. They will do whatever they deem necessary to achieve their goal.”

A howl cuts through the night. Scott turns towards the sound.

“Jackson,” Scott is startled by the sound of his Mates howl; the feel of his panic through the bond.

“Like I said, they will do what they think is necessary,” Rick quietly states.

Scott wolf’s out and grabs the man around the throat; slamming him into the wall of the clinic, his claws breaking the skin.

If anything happens to Jackson I will rip your throat out with my teeth!“ Scott snarls at him.

Scott pushes himself away from the man, and leaving his bike behind bounds in the direction that Jacksons’ howl came from.


Scott races towards where the sound of Jackson’s howl came from; the trace of his Mate weak in the air. He bounds from one side of the road to the other, trying to pick up Jackson’s scent; back and forth, centring on where the scent of his Mate is strongest. Then it’s gone; the trail just stops.

It’s as if Jackson just vanished; erased from the face of the planet. He can see tire marks on the road; but there is no sign of Jackson’s Porsche or any other car. He can feel Jackson; confused, panicked, and drugged, but alive. He knows he’s alive, it calms his anger; barely. He doesn’t know where they have him; or where they are taking him. Dick does; but Scott knows, just knows, that going to him is what Dick wants, and he will not give him the satisfaction.

Scott needs to find Jackson; he needs information, and he needs a plan. He needs Stiles.

Chapter Text

He feels cool; almost cold, but not enough to raise goose-bumps on his skin. Trying to look around everything is still a little hazy, everything looks white; even the almost mattress on the pallet he is lying on, that’s when he realises that he is naked. His hands fly to his neck, relief washing over him as he realises that he still has his collar. That’s when he sees the only thing in the room that isn’t white; sitting at the bottom of the pallet.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Jackson almost roars, his voice croaky and powerless.

Matt still turns towards him as he scrambles backwards off the less than comfortable mattress onto the hard uncomfortable floor like a frightened rabbit. Jackson notices that Matt is naked too; as his vision clears he notices the Kanima scales covering the right side of Matt’s torso and working its way down his right arm.

“So you’re gonna get to find out what it’s like, huh,” Jackson sneers at him, “I hope you remember it all as vividly as I do; having no control and seeing the stain of their blood on your hands.” He practically spits the last words out. He may only just be remember flashes of events, but he isn’t going to let Matt know.

“I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry,” Matt begs, he’s not sure why, he knows, absolutely knows, he doesn’t deserve any forgiveness and truly never expects Jackson to forgive him, “Our Dom was sending me to a faci...”

MY DOM,” Jackson snarls at him, “He is MY DOM, not yours.” Jackson can’t stop the possessiveness, his control of his wolf is fraying at the thought of his Mate with another. With only the scent of that other in this antiseptic atmosphere, no scent of his Mate, and only the faint thrum of his Mates’ worry at the reaches of their bond, he can feel the threat of his claws and fangs on the edge of breaking through.

“He... he...” Matt struggles to speak between the gulps of air, “he rescinded his claim on me?“ the tears pool in his eyes and fall down his cheeks to the white floor, “he said he would if you could not accept me as one of his submissives,” Matt wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, “I knew it was too much to expect; that he was really only making the claim so that I could attend the facility that Deaton knew of, but I knew that he would take his responsibilities as my Dominant seriously, even if he didn’t see me as really being his sub.”

Jackson is not going to feel sorry for Matt fucking Daehler; not after what he did, what Matt made him do.

“He said he’d find me another Dom if he withdrew his claim,” Matt looks at him hopefully, “Do you know who he got to make the claim?”

No one would, no one wanted you for a submissive; didn’t you get the message when Allison Argent kept rejecting you,” the words and the vehemence with which he says them are out of his mouth before he realises.

Matt looks broken; like he has nothing left to fight for and all his hope is gone.

There is a WOOSH and HISS, followed by the click-clack sound of heels walking across the floor. Jackson turns to see a white lab coat flowing under a shock of bouncing red hair, closely followed by four obvious goons.

“Three ay dash zero zero one, time for your treatment today,” the red headed woman says. Matt meekly allows two of the goons to strap him to the gurney they wheeled in and take him away.

“Where are you taking him?” Jackson asks rising from the mattress, “What are you doing to him?”

“Now three dash one one eight, that isn’t anything you need to be concerned with,” Jackson recognises a fake smile when he sees one, “given the conversation I overheard between you and three ay dash zero zero one I think you may have helped enormously with our work here; we may not even need your Dominant’s help now.”

She picks up the syringe from the tray that one of the goons was carrying.

“What’s that for?” Jackson asks, a slight panic edging at his voice.

“Just to take some blood, to allow me to assess the similarities between you, your roommate and the two type-3 subjects taken from the same area.”

Jackson backs away from her; all his instincts tell him she is dangerous.

“Don’t be uncooperative now,” she inclines her head towards one of the goons; he’s now pointing a dart gun at Jackson.

Jackson holds out his arm.


Chris Argent stands under the spray of his shower; it’s the first time he has been back home in two... three days. He had felt calmer earlier, when he was still with John Stilinski; now, now it feels strange being back home. Feels strange and yet there’s that part of him screaming at him that he’s been unfaithful; she’s barely in the ground and already he’s submitting to someone else.

He’s never submitted to someone else, not since he and Victoria started dating; since she claimed him and he accepted. Without her he felt lost, so lost and so untethered; he needed so much to be brought down, to be grounded.

John grounded him, lead him to his subspace so easily. More easily than he remembered being taken to his subspace; and that felt like a betrayal, but he knows how lost he would be now without the last three days. He knows what he would have done that night if John hadn’t stopped him; and how easily had he obeyed him.

He had always obeyed Victoria after he accepted her claim. They argued, discussed and he said when he disagreed with her; and she listened to his point of view, and if she was swayed by his argument she changed her mind. But she always decided, and he always obeyed.

Had he known what she had planned the night that she had been bitten he would have argued; but she never told him what she was going to do, never gave him the chance. She knew he would not have agreed with her killing Scott McCall, she knew he is an innocent who has not harmed any human. That feels like a betrayal too.

John hasn’t claimed him; yet. He says it’s too soon; but Chris hasn’t lived without a Dom guiding him in twenty years. John says when he needs him all he has to do is call. But he’s father, and while he is grieving the loss of his Dominant, his daughter is grieving the loss of her mother. He needs to be there for her; like John is for him.

She’s making something for dinner, pasta he thinks, she’s in the kitchen now with her sub. That should give him enough time to make some calls about Deaton, see if anyone in the hunter community knows anything about his disappearance, or a group looking to ‘benefit the country by improving humans’; he promised John he would.


When Scott arrived at Stiles’ the sheriff had already left for work; the cruiser wasn’t in the drive, but Derek’s Camaro was. Not that he needed to see the car to know that, he could smell what was happening in Stiles’ room. He really didn’t want to interrupt that; really no.

Okay, so he’s waited like five minutes. There is no point going to the door, they would just ignore it, and he didn’t want to jump up to Stiles’ bedroom window; he didn’t want to see his Alpha and his best friend in that way, smelling it is scarring enough. Seriously, are they that distracted his Alpha can’t tell he is out here?

Scott’s at the window, he can’t wait his Mate has been kidnapped and Dick is behind it; behind Deaton and Matt’s disappearance too. What if the group Dick’s working for also have Boyd and Erica?

He wishes he had thrown stones at the window to get their attention.

Stiles is stretched out in a reverse crab position; his legs separated by a spreader-bar, his wrists cuffed and pulled towards the corners of the headboard. His cock is locked in a cock-cage, his nipples are clamped, and rows of pegs run up along his abs and thighs. Stiles’ body is flushed and his eyes blown in lust as Derek is pushing his knot into his stretched anus.

Derek’s alpha red eyes turn to the window startling Scott and he loses his footing on the ledge falling to the ground below.

Forty minutes later a pissed off alpha in only a pair of boxer-briefs opens the door; Scott bares his neck in supplication.

Scott,” Derek growls in question, then picks up on his beta’s worry and lets him into the house; Stiles is kneeling by the couch, his cock still caged and his ass plugged, and abs and chest red.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Scott pleads, “but they’ve kidnapped Jackson, and they’ve already got Deaton and Matt.”

“Who has?” Derek asks, the buzz from topping his sub rapidly disappearing.

Dick,” Scott spits out.


“My mom’s ex-Dominant,” the words must have almost stuck in Scott’s throat with the difficulty he had in saying them.

“Your dad’s back?” Stiles’ groggily asks, his mind stirring to the edges of his subspace.

Don’t call him that,” Scott snarls in anger; Derek quickly grabs him by the throat and thrusts him against the nearest wall.

Don’t ever talk to my sub and my Mate like that,” Derek quietly rages at him, “given what you saw at the window and when he came in here you know the headspace he was in.” Derek drops Scott to the ground and goes back to calm and reassure his sub; he sits on the couch and pulls Stiles onto his lap.

Scott rises to his knees, fight to control his anger, his frustration; he looks across to Derek and Stiles, “I’m sorry, I’m worried about Jackson, and Deaton and Matt,” Scott says, “but I shouldn’t have shouted; I shouldn’t have let my worry over them and my anger at Dick,” he still can’t keep the anger out of his voice when he says his name, “get the better of me.”

Scott rises and moves towards them, sitting on the edge of couch, “Please help me, I need to get my sub back; I need to save my Mate.” ‘Again‘ said silently in his head.

Derek pulls Scott closer to them, knows that he needs the comfort of his pack. Derek feels partly responsible for Scott’s distress; he had heard the howl earlier, but was too focused on Stiles to concern himself.

“Tell us everything, from the start.”

Scott does, including going over what he had already told Derek; from his concern of Deaton not confirming they had arrived at the facility they were going to, of asking the sheriff if he could look into it. He tells them of going to his house this morning with Jackson to find Dick there with Peter on his knees, his mom tied to a chair, explaining how Dick had done that and how he had stopped him; of Dick saying he was there to talk ‘about Deaton and that second submissive you claimed‘, and this was how Jackson found out about Scott claiming Matt and how Jackson ran from the house. He tells them about Dick showing up at the animal clinic; that he claimed the people he was working for were doing it ‘for the greater good‘, ‘the benefit of the country‘, that ‘they were going to give humans an equal footing with the supernatural beings of the world‘.

Scott tells them of hearing Jackson howl, of wolfing out and threatening Dick, rushing to the scent of his Mate and finding nothing but tire marks on the road.

Shortly there is a knock at the door.

“Come in Isaac,” Derek shouts, “and you too Danny.”

Isaac had felt that something was wrong; felt the pull of the need to be with his pack, so his Dom had driven him to Stiles’. Danny had something he wanted to ask Derek anyway, but he sees the distress, sees that Jackson isn’t there. Danny goes with the flow when Isaac joins in the group hug, he won’t call it a puppy pile even if he is tempted it might not go down too well judging from vibe in the room, and wraps himself around Isaac and Scott.

“What’s happened?” Danny softly asks.

Scott starts to explain, going through the pain of it again; Derek and Stiles pick up where he falters.


Boyd screams, his back arching off the cold metal operating table that he is strapped to.

It’s better than hearing Erica scream; better that he suffers this and she doesn’t hear it, they promised that they wouldn’t let her hear if he allowed them to perform their tests on him and not her. He couldn’t stand to hear her through the speakers, the pain in her screams and her begging them to stop; the fear and terror in her voice.

They turned the current in the chip they embedded into him down, allowed his healing to kick in; they watch how rapidly he heals from a cut, what the effects of different wolfsbane on his skin, in the cuts they make. They make notes on everything.

They all agree his wolf is from good genetic stock as they draw more blood.


Erica scrunches her eyes closed, her mouth held in a grimace as she tries to block out the sounds coming from the speakers; Boyd screaming in agony.

“Of course, he wouldn’t have to be suffering all these tests,” Erica turns her head to glower at the red headed bitch in the white lab coat, “if you had co-operated. So tell me are you ready to co-operate now; to take some of the strain from your mate?”

You sadistic bitch,” Erica snarls at the woman, “Get off on this do you? Huh? Do you get off on cutting innocent teenagers and pumping them full of god only knows what chemicals?

“Sweetie,” the red-head, Erica assumes she is Dr Raines from reading the badge on her lab coat, gives her a feral grin, “we both know I’m not the bitch here. Now, do I continue all the tests on your boyfriend, or are you willing to take some of the pain from him? Hmm?”

“Fine,” Erica sighs in defeat, “I won’t rip open another of your little sicko helpers.”

“Good,” Raines smiles in satisfaction; of course all the tests are being carried out on both subjects. She needs to be thorough and the results may differ between the male and female subjects even if they are from the same pack.


Once he left Melissa’s house Peter spent his time on his laptop, Stiles wasn’t the only one who had google-fu; Peter was capable of finding what he was looking for, and he had.

It was rumours, speculation and nothing had been substantiated; but Peter knew this was what Scott and his father were.

He knew Scott was stronger than his father, he had broken his mother and him free from the control that they had been held in for hours. And Peter had bitten Scott, made him a werewolf and brought such a threat into the pack.

Scott was a genetic mutation, or enhancement depending on your point of view. There were several types of so-called ‘homo superior’. Scott was one of the most dangerous in Peter’s opinion; whatever Scott influenced you to do you would without question. He could control your thoughts and actions; he was already a powerful Dominant at D/s 22, more powerful than his father or Peter.

If anyone was going to be behind the curtain of this pack pulling the strings it was going to be Peter, not Scott. Peter just wasn’t certain how to ensure that; yet.


When Scott leaves to check that his mother is alright, that Dick hasn’t returned to threaten her again, Stiles assures him that they’ll think of something, he’ll get on-line to find out what he can and then they’ll make a plan to get Jackson back; Scott smiles weakly at his friend and thanks him. Danny and Isaac stay behind.

Derek can feel the uneasiness and the nervous energy rolling off of them.

“So, I was wondering,” Danny starts, and then stops.

“What?” Derek brusquely asks, his brow furrowed as he tersely looks at Danny. He can hear the speeding of his heart, and that of Isaac too; whatever Danny is wondering has Isaac on edge.

“I want you to make me one of your betas,” Danny barely pauses between words, “I know there’s a chance of dying from the bite, and I already know about the hunters, so I know there are a lot of reasons not to ask you to bite me; but there is one reason worth taking that risk for, Isaac. I’m his Dominant, I should be the one to protect him,” Isaac looks round sharply at his Dom about to argue, and Danny raises his hand to silence him, “instead he is more likely to end up in harm’s way trying to protect me. We may have a couple of years of high-school left before I can collar him officially, and I intend to; but I need to be able to do right by him as his Dominant.” Danny looks Derek in the eye, “So bite me.” Danny startles for a moment when he thinks on how he phrased his request in those last three words, “I mean...”

“I know what you mean,” Derek cuts him off.

Derek can tell from Isaac’s whimper that he wants to protest; Stiles is looking between Derek and Danny wondering what Derek is going to do.

“You’re sure that this what you want?” Derek asks after a short pause; he’s sure Danny would be a good addition to his pack.

“Yes.” Derek can hear that there is no skip in his heartbeat, despite the slight tang of his scent giving his apprehension away.

“Isaac, why don’t you want him to take the bite?” Derek wants to at least consider his beta’s concerns.

“You can’t be certain that he’ll change, he might end up like Jackson did, a Kanima; or he might die,” Isaac turns from Derek and looks at Danny, “I don’t want you to die, I know why you want the bite, and I understand, really I do, but I don’t want you to die.”

Danny pulled Isaac to him, his mouth clashing to Isaac’s in a bruising kiss; Danny owns the kiss, claiming Isaac’s mouth.

“And I don’t want to die, Isaac,” Danny whispers to him, “but I need to be all I can be, for you.”

“Danny,” Derek’s voice startles them from each other, “Do you still want the bite?”

“Yes,” Danny is resolute; he will do whatever he believes necessary to be able to protect Isaac.

“The take your shirt off and come to me,” Derek’s eyes blaze red and he shifts.

Danny’s fingers fumble with the buttons in his haste, practically ripping his shirt as he pulls it off.

Derek stalks towards Danny; Isaac whimpers as he kneels beside his Dom, Stiles watching silently from the couch. There is silence as Derek falls to his knees in front of Danny, his hands grasping Danny’s hips. Danny holds his breath as Derek licks across his abs, gasping as Derek’s fangs sink into his flesh, his hands fisting in Derek’s hair as he holds tight working through the pain.


Scott’s mom shakes with fear at the sound of the knocking on the door. She doesn’t want to answer, what if it him again?

“I’ll take care of this mom,” Scott knows it isn’t Dick, it doesn’t smell like him, but he doesn’t know who it is, “why don’t you go rest for a bit.”

She all but flees to her room; one day, Dick is back one day and he’s reduced his mom to the frightened woman she was when he left.

There are two men at the door; the taller one of them is collared, then Scott recognises the scent of the shorter one. Shorter between the two of them, they are both taller than Scott.

“You gave a talk in the Dom/sub classes at school a while back,” Scott looks between the two of them, the taller one with the collar smiles at him; full open mouthed and shiny white teeth.

“You remember us,” the collared one, Chuck if Scott remembers rightly, says as the other, the one with the dangerous scent, grins in a closed mouthed tight lipped way.

“What do you want?” Scott asks, his brow furrowing; the hackles of his wolf rising in worry at the dangerous predator at the door. Scott remembers that they are a Master and his collared submissive.

The predator holds out a cell-phone in one of his hands; there is a video ready to play.

“I want you to watch this, then invite us in to talk,” it is the first words the Master has spoken.

Scott looks at the screen; it fades in to Dr Deaton sitting on an expensive looking couch in well-appointed lounge, it zooms in to Deaton’s face; Scott can clearly see some fading injuries.

As Scott goes to ask what happened to him Master Gianni, Scott finally remembered the name to go with the scent and the face, raises a finger over his lips to silence him. It raises Scott’s anger and he opens his mouth to voice it when Master Gianni speaks again.

“Don’t.” The sound on the video starts.

The video of Deaton explains that the car he and Matt were in was attacked. They were being taken to some compound outside of Los Angeles when he managed to escape; he wasn’t able to get Matt out, they still have Matt. And now Jackson, Scott thinks. Deaton is continuing to explain that he made his way to his friend Master Gianni, that it was too dangerous for him to return to Beacon Hills or call Scott as he was sure that whoever has Matt and tried to take him will be looking for him there. Deaton implores Scott to trust his friend; insisting that Master Gianni can help.

“Just how can you help?” Scott asks, the scepticism evident.

“Why don’t we talk about that inside,” Master Gianni says.

Scott’s wolf rebels at letting this predator into his home; but if he can help get his Mate, get his submissives, back from whoever has taken them...

Scott steps back and lets Master Gianni and his submissive, Chuck, into his house.


Jackson paces around the cell; he’s not calling it a room, it’s not, it’s a cell. He’s a prisoner; he’s bait in a trap. A trap to get his Dominant, his Mate.

He’s not sure why, but it has something to do with Matt.

He’s not going to feel sorry for Matt; he’s not. So he may have been more vindictive with him than he intended earlier, before the red-headed Ice Queen and her goons came and took him away; but he can’t forgive him, he won’t feel sorry for him, he just won’t.

Jackson has a moment of panic as the door to the cell opens and the goon squad carry the limp unmoving body of Matt to the mattress and dump him onto it; but he can still hear Matt’s heartbeat, he isn’t dead.

What have you done to him?“ he shouts after them as they leave; ignoring him completely.

Jackson edges towards the pallet; Matt is lying there, unmoving, soft broken whimpers coming from his trembling lips. The kanima scales cover more of Matt’s body, now creeping up his neck, and down his arm and along the back of his hand. There is the distinct scent of cum, and the end of Matt’s limp cock glistens with it.


Christine Raines is not pleased; the results are not entirely what she was hoping for.

The realignment of the subjects D/s and SM nature was working entirely as expected. His responses had already moved from D/s-12 and SM-15 to D/s-08 and SM-11; better than she had expected in such a short time, and the largest shift had occurred during this last session. The only aspect of the technique still to prove was were the results permanent or would the subjects’ original profile return over time without the sessions.

No, the realignment sessions were progressing better than she had hoped for; the challenge was the serum. The purpose of the project, the funding she was getting for this covert operation, was to enhance the capabilities of a normal human; increase agility, speed, strength, vision, hearing, metabolism, healing, everything her father had promised and almost delivered on. Only her solution was not to grow a new hybrid human in a tank in the lab; her solution is a simple injection that will act like a virus, embedding itself in the cells of body and rewriting the genetic code.

The results so far have provided all that; but every twenty-eight days the subjects have transformed into the animal that their version of the serum had been created using. Tiger, lion, cougar, leopard, jaguar, wolf.

Each transformation weakening the subject as their body deals with shock and trauma of the transformation; their mind dealing with the horror of savagery they commit while in their animal form. It is only a matter of time before General stumbles across the hidden subjects; the homeless and runaway humans that she has been testing the serum on. Some of the earliest subjects died during their last transformation cycle; and after two years the military commanders behind this facility are beginning to ask when they will be ready for human testing. They have volunteers, officers and enlisted personnel, ready for that phase of the project.

She is sure that the Type-3A holds the key to stopping the transformation cycle; whatever it is that he is turning into is stopping the serum activating at all. His transformation into the reptilian form has sped up, and she is running out of time to find the solution.


Jackson lies down on the mattress behind Matt; the whimpers and soft cries of distress from Matt calling the sorrowful whine from his own throat.

“Matt, Matt,” he softly calls to him, reaching out to hold him, comfort him, “Don’t give up, you need to resist as best you can.”

Matt says nothing, just remains still in Jackson’s arms.

“Scott’s coming for us, you gotta know that, okay,” Jackson whispers, “I lied, Scott didn’t rescind his claim, he is still your Dom. I was angry at you, at him for claiming you, I’m still angry at you for what you did to me, but Scott won’t be happy with me that I lied to you, you need to stay strong for Scott.” We both do, he doesn’t say allowed.

Jackson hopes that Scott finds them soon, that he gets them out of here; before Matt completely transforms and the mad scientists in charge of the place get their hands on a Kanima, and figure out how to control it.

Chapter Text

Scott was in his living room, pacing backwards and forwards in front of Master Gianni; he was sitting in the chair, his submissive, Chuck, was kneeling at his feet.

“Please sit down,” Master Gianni calmly said, as if this was his house; Scott stopped and stared at him, “you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet and I doubt your mother will be happy if she needs to replace it.”

Scott glares at the... man; his wolf recognises that person sitting there, acting as if they own the place, is dangerous, is not human, not a man, but something. A dangerous something. Something that is really pissing Scott off by giving him orders, in his own home; and okay so maybe the words themselves don’t seem like an order but Scott recognises the command in the tone. Scott knows that he could do something about that, he could push and influence him; but he won’t, he won’t do that because he isn’t Dick.

“You said you can help,” Scott doesn’t sit, there’s demand in is tone, “how?“ He doesn’t push, doesn’t use influence; just his natural dominance to let Master Gianni know he won’t submit. Scott maybe a beta, but he is still a Dominant; and Master Gianni is not his Master, not a wolf and is not his alpha.

“I have a plan to help you get your submissives back from the group your father...”

Don’t call him that!“ Scott interrupts, his eyes a blaze of amber ringed with a tinge of red.

Master Gianni raises his right eyebrow, the only acknowledgement of Scott’s eyes shifting to his wolf’s amber; or to the irregular red seeping in at the edge of the iris.

“...the group Leon ‘Rick’ McCall is working with,” Master Gianni continues his voice calm, with no hint to the interruption, “It will be dangerous, and it will involve you working with him,” Master Gianni looks straight into to Scott’s eyes; eyes that are slowly shifting back to their human brown, “It will also involve me telling you a lot of very classified secrets; and you needing to act more like a secret agent, a spy, than a high school student.”

“If I’m gonna be James Bond does that make you ‘Q’?” Scott smirks; the first sign of him relaxing since his father was mentioned.

“It makes me ‘M’,” Master Gianni says trying to cover the slight laugh escaping from him, “before ‘M’ was Dame Judi Dench; but I think it would make you Cody Banks, not James Bond.”

Scott frowned at the comparison; sure it made more sense, typical teenage kid being taught to be a super spy, but he’d rather be 007.

“Oh,” Chuck excitedly starts, bouncing on up and down beside his Master, “can I be ‘Q’?”


Rick McCall was re-evaluating the plan.

There were clearly facts that had not been uncovered when he had started his return to Beacon Hills to retrieve his son.

One. His ex wife was submitting to a werewolf.

Two. His sons’ first claimed submissive was a werewolf.

Three. His son was a werewolf.

Four. Deaton escaped.

Clearly, when the sub Matt had told the techs at the facility his Dom would tear them limb from limb he hadn’t been exaggerating as everyone had thought. He’s not sure why they hadn’t considered the fact that his Dom could be a supernatural, they knew the supernatural world existed; had it only been his belief that his son was a normal human, well an enhanced human, like him that had stopped them considering the possibility? Had he influenced their thoughts without meaning to?

Overall it doesn’t change the plan.

The facility holding his sons’ submissives is still the best way to get Scott’s co-operation; get him to convince Deaton to work with them, once they recapture him. And that may be easier if Deaton knows that Scott is there. Of course his son may not have two submissives for much longer; the were creatures didn’t last long once Dr Raines got her hands on them.

He just had to get Scott to see it was for the greater good; and make sure the techs at the facility never found out Scott was a werewolf.


With a sharp inhale of breath through clenched teeth Danny surged to consciousness.

The first thing he noticed was the healing bite that had caused the twinge of pain and woke him. The next thing he noticed was that he was naked; and the body that he was wrapped around, with his morning erection pressing into their thigh, was not Isaac; it was Derek Hale, who was equally naked.

“Morning,” Danny looked across Derek’s sculpted chest and pert nipples, and Danny did not lick his lips at the thought of them it was because his lips were dry, in the direction of the voice; Stiles is wrapped around and clinging to the other side of Derek.

“Morning,” Danny croaks giving a little cough to clear his throat; he feels a stirring behind him and becomes aware of the arms draped over his chest; Isaac. The realisation that Isaac is there calms the worry he hadn’t notice rising. ”What happened?” he asks Stiles.

“You mean after you submitted to Derek and begged him to spank your ass and fuck you?” Stiles deadpans.

Danny’s eyes widen in shock, his cock twitches at the words from Stiles’ mouth; but that’s okay, Stiles is on the other side of Derek, Isaac is behind Danny’s back, and neither of them would see Danny’s hard shaft pressed against Derek’s thigh, and Derek is still asleep so he won’t have felt anything.

“I’m kidding,” Stiles says grinning from ear to ear, “you should see the panic on your face right now; that was so worth it.”

“Stiles,” Danny lets the Dom in his voice leak out into his name. The sight of Stiles dropping his gaze downward, the nervous lick of his lips, stirs Danny’s arousal more than Stiles’ earlier comment.

“You asked Derek for the bite, to make you a werewolf; Derek gave you the bite, you were feeling weak afterwards and Derek didn’t think you should drive home; you passed out, Derek carried you up here to our bed; Isaac stripped you, we all got into bed to sleep; we woke up, the bite is healing, you’re gonna be a werewolf and not gonna die from the bite. All good.” Stiles takes a breath once he stops talking, and mentally kicks himself; just because Danny used to be his Dom he shouldn’t let himself react to his voice so automatically. He should build up his resistance like he has with Scott; he can tell Scott when he’s inappropriately being dominant, he needs to be able to do that with Danny too. Derek is the only Dom he should submit too.

“I’m glad you’re not gonna die,” Isaac whispers from behind him; Danny takes the hand Isaac has draped over his arm and brings the palm to his lips, kissing it gently, “Me too,” he sighs against the skin of Isaac’s fingers.


Chris Argent is frustrated.

He told, promised, John that he would see what he could find out about any hunters involved with the group responsible for Deaton’s kidnapping. He’d found nothing.

He was sure that it wasn’t that no-one knew anything, just that they weren’t talking about it; or not talking to him about it. He wasn’t sure which, but he was certain that some of his contacts, or rather his father’s contacts, knew something about it. And whatever they knew they were not talking to him about. Was it related to his fathers’ disappearance? Was his father involved somehow?

“You look pensive,” he looks up at the sound of Allison’s voice as she enters the room, “something wrong?”

“No, just thinking something through in my head, trying to work stuff out,” he smiles at her, the smile not reaching his eyes, “I thought you’d be with Jed?”

“I would have been, but they’re having some sort of meeting about Jackson being kidnapped,” she would have gone too, but it was a werewolf only meeting, “they are strategizing, or probably Stiles is.” There’s a hint of a smile at the last thought; the subs plans can sound insane, but they tend to work out. ”So, what ‘stuff’ are you working out?”

“Oh, it’s nothing...”

“Dad,” the single word filled with warning; Allison knows from the infliction in his voice that it’s something. She knows that she shouldn’t let the Dominance leak into her voice, but she can’t stop herself. She hasn’t got that control yet to stop; not when she is concerned about her dad, she knows he is still grieving over her mother’s death.

“Have they covered inappropriate use of Dominance in school yet?” even as he answers his eyes are downcast in response to her tone, “I promised John I’d use what contacts I had to look into Deaton, Matt and now Jackson being taken; see if any hunters knew something. I’m sure some of those I’ve talked to yesterday and today do, but they aren’t saying and are outright denying it.”

“So, you have looked into it like you promised, and can tell him what you do know and what you suspect,” Allison isn’t seeing why her father is so despondent over it. She is grieving too, but she has Jed and her father to help her get through it; she understands his need to give into the pull of the other Dom, to have someone to ground him and take care of him.

“Yeah,” he agrees; but he still feels like he is letting the Dom down, not proving his worth to him. And that is part of the problem; that he is so eager to please him and desperate to show him how useful he can be to him, it feels like a betrayal of Victoria and his submission to her.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing. Looking at the screen he sees the callers’ number is blocked.

“Hello,” not knowing who is calling him he is cautious; keeps his greeting short.

“Chris, we need to talk,” Gerard gruffly states.


He’s back in his cell; the stark white room with the sealed door.

Gerard sits on the pallet that serves as a bed. He’s done what they asked, he told Chris exactly what they wanted him to. Now he has no choice but to sit and wait for them to keep their end of the bargain.

It seems like he’s been doing that since they dragged him here after the fight between the kanima and the dogs; since he was betrayed by Scott and received the bite from Derek.

Well, Scott’s plan didn’t work out exactly as Scott hoped.

Sure, his body rejected the bite; mostly, but it is still in his system, he could still change and yes that was what he wanted there was a reason. To cure his cancer and through killing Derek Hale before he ever transformed curing himself and never become a werewolf.

Only the genes are dormant, they are not reacting, not curing his cancer; the mountain ash that Scott tricked him into taking has stopped any gene transformation. They could activate at any time, if enough of the mountain ash works its way out of his system, and then without knowing it cure him and turn him; before he can kill Hale and stop the transformation completing.

But this is what they are working on here; enhancing humans to be just as powerful as the vermin without ever transforming, without becoming the beast.

Doctor Raines has taken his blood; looking to see if something can help her research. Ever since he awoke here they have taken blood every day; he still doesn’t know how he got here. The last thing he recalls is crawling out of the warehouse, and collapsing on the ground.

But they have promised him they will ensure that he will be cured; and will not be cursed to become a beast every month. So, with that promise he gave his son the information they told him to give; set-up the meeting for his son to come alone, to meet with him and help him. And still he agreed, even after Gerard had told him in the warehouse, ‘when it comes to survival, I’d kill my own son‘; stupid sub so desperate for approval he still doesn’t get how true those words are. Kate was the only one of his children he could relate to, and the monsters took her from him.


The pack are gathered at Danny’s house; Isaac and Danny are obviously there, Derek, Stiles, Jed and Peter. Scott is the last to arrive.

“... he’s a danger to the authority of the alpha,” Scott can hear Peter say as he walks into the lounge. It isn’t as if Peter couldn’t tell he was here, his senses are better than most of other wolves; and even Stiles with his human senses knew that Scott was walking into the room.

Who’s a threat to the authority of the alpha?” Scott asks, placing the backpack he was carrying on the floor beside the seat he has taken.

“Is this because he has powers like ‘Spencer Bronson’?” Stiles asks, “‘cause he only uses it when he has to like ‘Professor-X’; not because he doesn’t get his own way like Spencer getting his step-father to kidnap him and stuff. And at least he hasn’t mind controlled anyone to force them to kidnap someone, like say their nephew, and use him in a ritual to raise themselves from the dead; hmm, zombie wolf, know anyone whose mind controlled someone like that?”

“Is this because he stopped you giving Leon McCall a blowjob?” Derek maliciously asks just to see his uncle squirm at the question.

“Clearly I’m not saying that Scott would use these abilities in such a way, I don’t think he’s a threat only that...” Peter is interrupted.

Of course I’m a threat,” Scott states, “just not to my Alpha,” he looks up at Peter, “only to those that threaten his position and would use their abilities to undermine him. I’m not a Dick.”

Peter drops the subject; too many of the pack, including his nephew, bring up his own previous actions. Really he doesn’t see it as the same thing, that was a necessity for survival; what Scott’s father did, what Scott could do, was purely because he could.

With Peter’s revelations about Scott’s abilities, that the pack already knew about as Scott had told them himself the day before, now over the pack settles down to strategize.

“I have a plan,” Scott starts before anyone else can, at the incredulous look from his pack mates he adds, “I can make plans, and well it’s sort of Deaton’s plan, well, not really Deaton’s plan it’s more the plan of friends of Deaton who are really good at this sort of planning.”

“Scott!” Derek’s voice cut through Scott’s rambling, “You’re babbling like Stiles,” Stiles opens his mouth to argue the point but with a raise of his Doms’ eyebrow thinks better of it, “What is the plan?“ Derek asks.

“I’m agreeing to Dick’s terms,” Scott says, his voice quavering slightly as the expected cacophony of dissent rises from his pack mates, until he roars, “It’s the only way to find out where they are holding Jackson and Matt.”

And just how does you being in there with them let anyone else know where they are to come and get you out?“ Stiles yells at his best friend, “Uh? How do we do that Scott?” Stiles gaze and posture drop into a submissive stance under the attention of the rest of the pack; the self-preservation instinct of cowering kicking in. Under the gaze of the pack, and okay two of them are submissives like himself, but four of them are Dominant, he couldn’t help but lower his head and sink back into his Dom. He knows society doesn’t expect subs to talk to a dominant like that, but it’s Scott, his friend; and this isn’t in public so it shouldn’t really matter, but instinct overrules his brain.

“With this,” Scott reaches over to the backpack he brought with him and pulls out a tablet pc, etched on the back of the device is the name ‘Carmichael Industries Associates Device‘, “it was given to me by ‘Q’,” Scott is not using their real names, “it will scan for their network and then a worm, or was it a Trojan, something will copy itself from this device onto their network and then replicate through every computer on their network copying all their data and compressing it to send it back to this device which will dial out and send the data to them with the location.”

‘Q’?“ Stiles and Isaac both question.

“Not really,” Scott tries to be evasive, ignoring the question further, “‘M’ has said that once the location has been received he’ll send his agents in to ‘deal with the extraction‘.” Scott pauses briefly, “But I’d rather my pack was able to be there and have my back in extracting my Mate and submissives.”

“How do you expect that happen,” Derek asks, “when the only people who’ll know where you are is gonna be the ones that have your two subs and Deaton’s Friends,” Derek emphasised Deaton’s Friends both vocally and with air-quotes, “that you’re trusting already? How do you know they are friends of Deaton? How do you know that Deaton escaped like they claim?”

The concern in Derek’s voice for his beta was clear to everyone in the room.

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted, “but I think if they were working for the same group as Dick they could have just taken me last night instead of playing out a pretend recon mission; but my wolf doesn’t trust ‘M’, sees him as a threat, however, that could just be that he’s a Master.” Scott looks a little guilty before quickly continuing, “I was hoping that Danny could look at this device and see if there is any way for him to get it to send the info it collects to the pack as well as to them.”

“How are you even going to get the device into the place and be allowed to use it?” Peter asks before Danny or anyone else can reply to Scott’s sheepish plea.

“The cover story is that with me being behind in three classes at school the sponsorship I was on track to get from Carmichael Industries to cover college tuition is on the line; they Carmichael Industries,” Scott points to the name on the back of the device, “have given me one of their Associates Devices to use to catch up on the course work and, and so that they can monitor my progress, and then I’ve to take make-up exams for the classes before the next semester starts,” Scott smiles as if it’s gonna be that easy, “so they need to let me work on the device to keep to the schedule.” He hopes his heartbeat doesn’t give away that he doesn’t think it will be so simple, but he doesn’t see any other option; and he has to save Jackson and Matt. He’s responsible for them both; he’s their Dominant.

Danny takes the device from Scott’s hands with a simple, “Let me have a look at it.” No promises, no certainties; but enough to give Scott some hope of being able to save his Jackson and Matt.


It was one of the few times that Christine Raines was dressed casually, and without her lab coat on, as she sat at the desk typing the notes and instructions for the technicians that would continue her work while she was away.

She had her bag packed; there weren’t many clothes in it, she was only going to be gone for about three days. Her family’s cabin was in the middle of almost two thousand acres of private land; there was a time she used to love going there. The peace and quiet of the seclusion allowing her to think through whatever was troubling her; the tranquil space calming her mind and allowing her to solve any problem she faced. Those days were long gone.

She typed her final instructions; the Type-3A was to be kept on the existing formulation of the serum with blood tested every twelve hours; and only reaction to standard D/s profile testing to be carried out. They needed to see if the results of the sessions were permanent or would reverse when the D/s conversion therapy was no longer being applied.

The blond Type-3 that was being housed with him was not to be subjected to any testing. With the submissive creatures Dominant being brought in it would be better that nothing had been done with him, yet; better to get the Dominants’ permission, and if he was anything like his father then she was certain she would convince him of the greater good that her results would bring.

With her notes finished she hit send and closed down her terminal. She picked up an extract packet of Tylenol and one of Percodan, placing them in her bag. Locking the door to her room she headed to her car and the next three days.


When Melissa first heard someone at the door her instinct was to ignore it, pretend she didn’t hear it, that she wasn’t in; Scott wasn’t here to deal with it for her, she wasn’t sure where Scott was.

He’d left late last night after those men came; she heard snippets of the conversation as she hid. Really, what kind of a mother was she that she let her child defend her; again. But after what her ex-Dominant, he ex-husband, did; the things he did to Peter, the things he made Peter beg for. The memory of them makes the bile rise and she can’t stop the sob escaping from her.

There’s shouting from the other side of the door.

“Melissa, it’s me Peter, are you okay? We need to talk, please let me in.” Peter practically whines from the other side of the door.

The thought comes to her mind of ‘Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin‘.

She had begun to trust him; the first Dom she had trusted in a long time, and had allowed herself thoughts of letting go and submitting again. Thoughts of no-longer needing to the strong independent woman; relying on her dominant side and not allowing her stronger submissive feelings and needs to surface. And it wasn’t finding out that he was a werewolf, or the fact that Leon had dominated him that is causing her to stand in the hallway trying to be quiet and not let him know she is there. Which she knows is stupid, he’s a werewolf; he can probably hear her or smell her or something. But that doesn’t stop the fear that seeped in during the talk with Scott after Leon had left.

Scott didn’t trust Peter; and he had his reasons.

He told her how Peter was the crazy alpha that had bitten him, made him a werewolf. He told her how Peter had tried to get him to kill Stiles, Allison, Jackson and Lydia; to hunt with him and consume the prey they caught and killed to cement the bond between the alpha and his beta. Told her how he and Derek, with the help of Stiles, Jackson and Allison had killed Peter and that was how Derek had become the alpha; then became Scott’s alpha.

But Peter had a backup plan; a way of coming back from the dead.

Peter had mind controlled Lydia, ‘probably created something like a horcrux from Harry Potter‘ is how Scott described it, and used her to attack Derek and leech Derek’s life-force into his desiccated body to bring him back to life.

And really didn’t those words just sound the alarm bells in her; ‘mind controlled Lydia’, ‘used her’.

And the pleading from the other side of the door continues.

“Please, Melissa,” Peter’s frantic concerned tone reaches through the door, “I need to know you’re okay; Scott knows I’m here.”


Peter was more than a little surprised at Scott’s request; to keep an eye on his mother and make sure that she was okay.

And it was a request; he didn’t use his ability to force him to agree, he wouldn’t have needed to anyway. Peter had every intention of making sure that Melissa McCall was okay, as Scott put it, and he had every intention of trying to rebuild his relationship with her; again. Even though he knew Scott did not trust him around his mom. Which is what made the request so unexpected.

So unexpected that his response was “Why?” before he even realised he was answering him.

“Because I need someone to rebuild her confidence after what Dick did; someone that cares for her, and I think you just might honestly care about her.” He could tell that Scott was searching his eyes, listening to his heartbeat and scenting him for a lie.

“I do,” unable to resist taunting him, “your mother is smoking hot; she is definitely a mother I’d like to ...

Don’t say it!“ Scott stops him, but again not using his ability.

Peter smiles, well smirks at Scott.

“You are the first Dominant my mom has shown any interest in submitting to since Dick; and my experiences of you so far has left me not thinking of you as being any better than Dick. But, my mom cares about you, was beginning to trust you enough to consider submitting to you; and you seem to genuinely care for her. So,” there’s a hitch in Scott’s breath, a skip in his heartbeat, “while I’m not here, I’m asking you to be there for her; to help her, to build her confidence in herself back up. For too long she has needed to be dominant, she was raising a Dominant son on her own and needed to be an authority figure, to keep me in line. She needs to have her life back, to find her balance and be able to submit to someone she can trust. Will you do that?”

“Yes,” is out of Peter’s mouth before he knows he’s said it; there’s something gnawing at him, something Scott isn’t saying. But Scott is speaking again before he can grasp what’s bothering him.

“Good, but be warned,” there’s a glint in Scott’s eye replacing the matt of the melancholic look he had before, “If you hurt her, if you abuse her trust, then what Dick had you begging him to do to you; I will do, and I won’t make you want it beforehand.”

And so here he is; frantically trying to get Melissa to let him in the house. Beseeching her to let him in.

“Please, Melissa, I need to know you’re okay; Scott knows I’m here.” He needs to get in, he needs to know Melissa is okay; and he needs to see Scott’s room.

The door opens a crack, firmly held on the chain; not that it would stop a werewolf, but busting it open will not regain her trust. Melissa peers over the chain at him.

“Scott asked me to make sure you were alright,” he can see the frown, the distrust, appearing, “he threatened, well more accurately he promised, to skin me alive if I upset you, hurt you, or broke your trust.” He gives her his most charming congenial smile, “and I need to get something from Scott’s room.”

Warily she takes the chain off the door to allow Peter to enter.

“I don’t know how you expect to find anything in Scott’s room; it’s always a mess,” she relocks the door, refastens the chain.

Peter can smell the fear, the anxiety, reeling from her as she leads him to Scott’s bedroom; he never wanted to cause her scent to be filled with such acrid odours.

The gasp from Melissa as she opens the door to Scott’s room makes his heart clench in his chest. Entering the room it look as he feared. The bed is made, there are no clothes scattered around the room, everything is tidied in its proper place. The clothes hamper is empty, the clothes all laundered and in the closet or drawers.

Melissa is staring at the empty photo frames lying on top of the chest of drawers.

“Which pictures are missing?” he asks her, his voice feels tight in his throat; he hears the whine of a pack mate in distress.

“It’s one of Scott and me, the other is Scott and Stiles,” Melissa looks around the room, confusion and disbelief warring on her face, and she turns to him, “what’s going on? Where’s Scott? Why has he taken the pictures from the frames?”

He scans the room trying to find the wolf in distress, the wolf filled with concern for its pack mate; only to realise it’s him. He is the wolf whining for his pack; he is the one feeling the loss of a member of the pack. Damn Scott.

Peter didn’t want to care about him, he didn’t want to see him as pack; he wanted him out of the pack as he’s the only one that is a threat to Peter’s own agenda. Peter is sure that Scott didn’t use his influencing ability, and yet somehow Peter recognises that feeling of concern; can hear it in the quiet whine he can’t stop slipping from his throat. Damn Scott.


Boyd stalks around the perimeter of the room; the same room he has been kept in since he arrived here.

Still kept naked he can see that the scars from the ‘tests‘ are healing; some have healed at normal werewolf speed, others are healing as if he were human. So far at least he has survived everything they have done to him. And at least it means they have not performed the tests on Erica. Given her reaction to the Kanima venom he is not sure how she would have reacted to some of these ‘tests‘.

The door to the room opens and two of the torturers, technicians, walk in with a naked boy between them. The boy doesn’t look to be more than thirteen or fourteen, his straight black hair reaching just above his shoulders.

“Shift and give him the bite,” one of the technicians flatly commands.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Boyd refuses, even if he could he wouldn’t give the bite to some kid even if the kid wanted it, “I’m not an alpha.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the tech replies, then turning to the kid he warns, “go on, you know what will happen if you don’t.”

Boyd watches as the child shifts, his bones cracking and reshaping; the hair sprouting on his face, back and chest. His nails stretching in to claws and his teeth lengthening to razor sharp points.

Boyd backs up as the jaguar stalks towards him.

“We want to test the reaction of your wolf genes to the threat of another species,” the tech calmly states, as if it was a perfectly normal request, “so once the bite has been taken we will return to take a sample of your blood for analysis.”

The sharp teeth sink into side, biting right over the same spot Derek bit him. His hands clench and his eyes close tightly against the pain.


Jackson curls himself further round Matt’s torso, pulling himself against Matt’s side. The Kanima scales now extending down Matt’s leg and across his abdomen, chest and beginning to reach his other arm.

“Come on Matt,” he whispers into his ear, “you’re supposed to be fighting the transformation, for Scott, for our Dom.”

Matt turns his reptilian eyes searching Jackson’s face.

“He’s coming for us,” Jackson says, “I can feel it.”

“For you,” Matt retorts; Jackson frowns in frustration at Matt’s denial.

No,” the frustration Jackson feels seeps into his voice, “he’s coming for us; remember, I told you I was lying earlier, I wanted to hurt you.”

“There won’t be a Matt,” Matt says, his voice tinged with sadness, “only the Kanima.”

The door to their cell opens before Jackson can reply.

It’s not the usual red-headed female doctor that enters but a tall man with a mop of wild dark hair striding in followed by a running flustered balding tech with glasses. Both have the white lab coats open and billowing behind them

“Mr White,” the harassed tech puffs, “this is against Dr Raines instructions; she explicitly stated not...”

“Don’t worry,” Mr White rounds on the frightened rabbit of a man, “I will take full credit for the actions today, now, kindly administer the original formula serum into both the test subjects.”

“Original serum?” the frightened rabbit quietly asks.

“Well we didn’t have the melanistic tiger RNA so we’ve used Siberian tiger, but other than that it is following her fathers’ original solution used in the gestation tanks. Now, shall we save this project, hmm?”

The technician kneels down and injects the serum into Matt’s scaled arm.

“Now the other subject too,” White coldly states.

“But, Dr Raines said...”

“Dr Raines isn’t here, and I am sorting out her delays on the project,” White fumes at the other man, “So, do as I say.”

Jackson holds his arm out for the kneeling tech to inject him with the serum; the man looks apologetically at him as the needle pierces his skin and the fluid flows into his bloodstream as he depresses the plunger.

Chapter Text

It took Danny and Stiles a few hours of searching after Peter turned up, with Melissa, at the sheriff’s house. He called Derek before leaving Melissa’s and suggested they needed another pack meeting; that Scott may not have told them everything.

When they arrived Jed, Danny and Isaac were already there.

Once everyone is gathered around the dining table Peter asks Melissa to tell the rest of the pack what she had told him after they had been in Scott’s room; she had overheard some of the discussion between Scott and the two visitors.

She had heard snippets of conversation; talk of them being at the school to give lectures to the Dom and sub classes, something to do with James Bond and Cody Banks, about a private company working with the NSA and CIA, and a previous transgenic project. She remembers clearly hearing one of the men saying ‘you understand that once inside there is no guarantee of safety‘ and Scott replying ‘okay‘.

Melissa then told them what they found in Scott’s room after Peter had turned up. Stiles had joked about being able to find anything in Scott’s room; the smile and laughter fading when Melissa said the room was tidy, the bed made, of the clothes laundered and put away, and told them about the two empty photo frames.

Peter then reminds the pack of Scott’s words when talking of the plan to get Jackson and Matt from the group Dick McCall is working with; how Scott had said that he’d ‘rather my pack was able to be there and have my back in extracting my Mate and submissives‘, how he hadn’t included himself in the people being extracted.

He also tells them about Scott asking him, Peter Hale whom Scott did not trust, to be there for his mom ‘while I’m not here‘; he tells them of the skipped beat of Scott’s heart, the melancholy in his eyes.

So, a few hours later Danny and Stiles have tracked down Master Gianni di Marco and his submissive Chuck Bartowski, the owners of Carmichael Industries, to a motel on the interstate leading out of Beacon Hills.

Derek, Danny and Stiles are going to pay them a visit while Isaac, Peter and Melissa return to the McCall house after taking Jed back to Allison; Derek does not want any pack member on their own. The plan is changing, he’s no longer relying on the hack Danny applied to the tablet to send the data to Danny’s pc before it sends it to the initial location; now Derek intends that they find out why Scott has prepared for not coming back, and guarantee that Carmichael Industries helps ensure he does.


Lydia was beginning to feel a little displeased at the lack of information from Derek, or any of the pack, about Boyd or Erica. Okay, so ‘beginning to feel‘ and ‘a little displeased‘ may be underrating her feelings. She’s pissed.

It wasn’t like she had expected the police to be able to uncover much, not when she knew there was some sort of supernatural involvement, after all her subs are both werewolves; and both are part of Derek Hales’ pack.

Her friend Allison had kept her informed of the lack of progress in gathering information from the hunter community; but they both had expected that she wouldn’t be able to. From Derek and the pack she had heard nothing; no progress, no lack of progress, just nothing. Lydia Martin does not get ignored.

So she decided to pay a visit to Derek’s sub; Stiles.

Stiles used to have a crush on her, she knows this and is willing to use it to her advantage. If Derek won’t tell her what is going on, what is happening with the search for Boyd and Erica, then she’ll just need to get the information from Stiles. There is no way that Stiles doesn’t know what Derek knows.

She’s about to get out of her car when Derek, Danny and Stiles get into Derek’s black Camaro and Mrs McCall, Peter Hale, Isaac and Jed get into Mrs McCall’s station wagon.

Lydia follows Derek’s Camaro.


John knows that something is on Chris’s mind; he’s clearly been distracted, his attention straying from time to time. Now that they are at John’s home he intends to get to the bottom of the problem.

Strip!“ John commands as he closes the door behind him; Chris pauses, drawn from whatever thoughts he was having before he begins to remove his shoes and socks, unbutton his shirt and fold it before placing it on top of his shoes, followed by his pants, undershirt and boxers. When Chris is standing naked in John’s hall he finally clasps his hands in the small of his back and slightly bows his head, his gaze resting on the floor, his breathing slowing as his mind calms and rests to allow him to think and focus on his Dominants’ needs.


Lydia wishes she had waited until she could get Stiles on his own. Following Derek to this motel had not been her best move; damn werewolves.

She hadn’t been able to sneak around behind them to find out what was going on; ‘wolfy super senses‘, as Stiles called them, sniffed her out. And Derek could hear the sound of her heels on the gravel as she tried to quietly follow them.

Now she is stuck in this room with them as Derek and some older guy play chicken to see who will blink first. Derek had growled at him, barred his teeth and even partially shifted. The older guy, whom Stiles reminded her had been one of the speakers at the Dom/sub classes, didn’t bat an eye. He roared; causing Derek to shift back and now they’ve stared at each other, and stared at each other.

Between the growling and the roaring and general posturing between the two Dominant males Lydia became aware of certain facts as they shouted each other down; facts that she had not been aware of before.

Jackson was missing, he had been taken by persons unknown. These same people also had Matt Daehler and Doc Deaton that Scott worked for at the animal clinic. Scott’s father was in town and he had something to do with the people that had taken Jackson, Matt and Deaton. They were doing something to put humans, or some humans, on a par with supernaturals; it was also related to a previous project in transgenic species.

Lydia knew that transgenics is where the genome of a living organism has been altered by the transfer of a gene or genes from another species or breed, that science had already transferred genes between animals; they had created goats and sheep where the milk they produced had proteins from other species, and chickens whose egg whites contained human proteins.

This sounded far more advanced than that.

The thought occurs to her, if these people are using werewolves in their experiments, and they were here to get Matt and Deaton, and now Jackson, could they have been the ones that have taken Boyd and Erica?

“Could these people be the ones responsible for Erica’s and Boyd’s disappearance?” Lydia asks out loud, she looks up to see all eyes on her, at least she caused the staring contest to end in a draw.

“That was something Scott thought,” Stiles says as his attention wanders around the room.

“It’s a possibility,” Derek states, turning his attention squarely back on the, rather handsome Lydia decided, older guy, “but the question remains, Master di Marco, how...”

How much did McCall tell you?“ the tone of the interruption from Master di Marco causes everyone in the room to drop their gaze; even Derek, the low snarl coming from him making his anger at the domination by the other man obvious.

“He told us about the tablet pc, how it will hack into the systems of whoever these people are and gather intel, then send it back out to you with the location of where they are and then, Colonel, your people will swoop in and save the day,” Derek snarls at the Master, his hackles rising, his wolf recognised the scent of a predator before they even entered the room, now he knows what it is, tiger, “what we didn’t know before he left was that he had tidied his room, something his mom says he never does, that he’d taken the photographs of his best friend and his mom with him, that he wasn’t expecting to come back. Now you’re gonna tell us how you’re gonna make sure he does.”

“Chuck, fix our guests some drinks,” as he speaks Master di Marco’s attention never leaves Derek, “Alpha Hale and I have need to talk privately in the other room.”

Stiles is sipping the glass of Pepsi that Chuck had poured for each of them, he had suggested to him that he could put a shot of JD in it but the other sub had paled at the thought telling him ‘I doubt your Dom would approve, my Master certainly wouldn’t, and I don’t want my ass paddled for giving the sheriff’s underage son alcohol‘.

He was sure Danny got some added to his glass as Chuck asked him how Isaac was; apparently Isaac talked to him for a little while after the talk that Chuck had given to the submissive class, not that he tells Danny what they talked about. Lydia is clearly as bored as he is from the way she is tapping her foot and tapping her nails against the edge of her glass.

Stiles looks the items littering the table he is sitting at, he sets his glass down and picks up one of the items resting beside the laptop that is closed over.

“Cool shades,” he says as he puts them on, not hearing the shout of ‘No, don’t‘ from Chuck. A countless set of images flash before his eyes, then everything goes black.


Chris Argent is lying curled against his side.

John held the sub tightly in his arms; he’d exhausted the man, taking him to the edge again and again and again, never letting him crash over.

When Chris finished stripping and knelt in front of him John told him that he knew something was on his mind; John saw the flicker of tension cross his face, told him that tonight, when he was ready, he would tell John what was distracting him, what had occurred that was causing him this distress.

Then he took the sub across his knee and began to spank him. His hand rising and falling on the pale flesh, the gasps increasing in volume as the cadence of palm striking ass cheek turns the skin pink then red, warming Chris’s ass and his own hand. The gasps and cries became muffled as Chris sunk his teeth into the arm of the chair.

“No,” John warned him, “don’t gag yourself, if I wanted you gagged I’d have put one in your mouth.”

Chris took his mouth of the arm of the chair; the moans, gasps and begging began almost immediately. John doubts that Chris knows what he was begging for.

Please, no, Sir, ah, please, Sir, I, yes, please, Sir.” Gulps of air intersperse the gasps, the words, and the needy moans that fall from between Chris’s lips.

Once his hand was too sore to continue, and Chris’s ass was a mass of red and heat, John had him crawl up the stairs to the bedroom; to kneel at the foot of the bed.

John could see that by the time he was in position Chris’s cock was hard. He had him turn around and spread his arms along the top of the baseboard, binding his arms along the length of the wooden frame; he spread his knees and attached a spreader bar to his ankles and his knees.

With Chris’s body laid out before him he began to play; pulling wanton whimpers and pleas as he created a series of sensations across the sub’s body.

He raked his nails up along the sides of the sub’s body, over his chest and down across his abs.

He ran the pin-wheel over his flesh, his chest, arms, abs, the head of his cock, and over his balls.

He slide an ice cube over his lips, down his chest and over his nipples; he licked the moisture from those lips causing them to part, pulling himself back as the sub stretched forward trying to capture his mouth. He leaned down licking along his chest, capturing a nipple between his teeth and pulling it taut.

He teased a finger over the puckered flesh of Chris’s hole, pushing another cube of frozen water in as his warm moist mouth enveloped the head of Chris’s cock and swallowed him down.

Before he allowed Chris to come he had the whole story of the telephone call from Gerard. He rewarded him by releasing his own pent-up need over his face and hair; as Chris’s fell on the floor between his spread knees.

They relaxed in hot bath surrounded by steam afterwards; he made sure there were snacks and bottles of water on the bedside cabinets as they crawled between the sheets.

As they lay back under the covers, Chris curled against his side, John knows that Gerard has set a trap and he has no intention of allowing Chris to go to the meeting point; not alone.


Derek storms out of the other room and rushes to Stiles’ side, turning to Master di Marco’s sub he snarls his demand, “What happened?

Master di Marco places himself between his submissive and Derek, a warning growl rising from him as he states, “Be careful how you talk to my submissive.”

Derek reigns his anger in, recalling his own similar warning to Scott, “Sorry, my concern for my submissive, my Mate, is making it difficult to control my reactions. I need to know what happened.”

The sheepish look that crosses Chucks’ face tells Derek that the submissive feels guilty, that he can’t meet his Master’s eye, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whatever has happened the submissive is responsible. Derek feels his wolf pushing at his self-control.

“Stiles put on a pair of shades that were sitting by the laptop,” Danny quickly says, “then he collapsed.”

The roar from Master di Marco has his submissive falling to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck pleads, “I shouldn’t have left them laying around, I was still working on them trying to make sure the chip didn’t fry when the transfer completed.”

“And just how were you planning to test it?” his Master asks, “What about the Morgan effect?”

The groups’ attention is returned to Stiles as he abruptly sits up and announces, “I know Kung-Fu!


Scott sits staring at the screen of the tablet, he can’t make sense of the equation. He can’t believe he is actually doing course work trying to catch up so he doesn’t get held back a year, but Chuck and Master di Marco ensured that all of the course work he needed to catch up on was on the device so that it would check out if the rogue NID faction Dick was working with checked it out. They actually made it so that it wasn’t just a cover story for him having the device; if he covers the course work on the machine it will actually count at school and he won’t be held back a year.

“Do you have to do that just now,” Dick asks dejectedly, “couldn’t we talk, catch up some?”

“I told you,” Scott doesn’t hide the disinterest in his voice, “I have course work to complete and email by set dates,” Scott takes his eyes from the screen and looks at the man as he drives; Dick is switching his attention between the road and Scott, “I also told you I have no interest in catching up with what you’ve been doing, I’m here purely to ensure the safety of my submissives; they are all I care about here.”

“You know,” Dick drawls, he pauses as if trying to find the words he wants to say, “At the facility they only know that the two submissives, the werewolf and the other one, are your subs; they don’t know that they’re part of your pack, that you’re a werewolf. It would be better if they didn’t know.”

Scott’s eyes dart from the screen of the tablet where he was pondering over another tricky calculus problem, glancing sideways at Dick.

“You haven’t told them already?” he listens carefully to Dick’s heart and scents the air; looking for a lie in his words.

“No,” Dick looks over to the passenger seat where Scott is sitting, “I don’t want you ending up one of their experiments.”

Scott didn’t find a lie, and he couldn’t stop the frown that creased his brow as he looked back at the calculus problem.


Boyd is sitting on the floor against one wall of his cell, his legs drawn up against his torso and his arms warped around them. The bite has healed, a slight scar remains but even that will fade in the next few hours. So, werecats are a real thing; why not, he is a werewolf after all.

The kid, Boyd still doesn’t know his name, is curled in a ball against the opposite wall. He turned back from his jaguar form shortly after the techs left with first blood they took from Boyd’s arm after an hour, the techs have been back twice since and taken more blood; they haven’t taken the kid away, haven’t taken him back to where they were holding him before. He’s begged and plead with them to take him back to his dad. They’ve ignored the kid, every time. Boyd has a bad feeling about that.

He sees the boy begin to shake, the shuddering of his shoulders, as he quietly cries. Boyd pushes himself up and away from the wall; he quietly pads over to the kid, settles behind him and spoons against his back.

The wolf and the cat are weary of each other, but in their common need for comfort accept the presence of the other.

“It’s gonna be okay kid,” Boyd doesn’t know why he says that, he’s not so sure it’s true.

The kid turns in his arms and wraps himself around him, burying his head in the crook of Boyd’s neck; his tears wet against his shoulder as Boyd runs calming circles on his back with the palm of his hand.


Derek is pacing the room, has been since they left Master di Marco and his sub; he’s on edge, agitated and needs to move, wants to hit something, someone. But he needs to work off this feeling before he ends up hurting someone, seriously.

The ‘shades’ that Stiles picked up and put on were some sort of information delivery device that the submissive, Chuck, was working on. Chuck had reduced the information being delivered by the glasses to a few forms of martial arts, codified systems and traditions of combat practices. The glasses apparently contained Judo, Taekwondo, Kendo, Karate, Jujutsu, Boxing, the use of a Quarterstaff and Jeet Kune Do; Chuck was a fan of Bruce Lee. Stiles was now proficient in each style that had been delivered directly into his brain, capable of accessing the information whenever he needed it. Only the ‘Morgan Effect‘, as Master di Marco had called it, meant that he shouldn’t; ever. The effect mean that each time he used the fighting abilities that had been given to him Stiles would lose a little of himself; little things at first that would grow as his personality changed. Derek couldn’t hold back the whine that ripped from him at the thought of losing his sub, his Mate.

Chuck was not supposed to have the device with him, it was supposed to be locked in their company premises in LA, the changes he had been making to try and resolve the ‘Morgan Effect’ and chip burning out were still to be tested; but he couldn’t stop tinkering with it and had brought them with him. His Master was going to punish him. Derek was going to punish Stiles for picking up someone else’s belongings, and putting himself in danger again.

They are in a guest room at Danny’s. They picked Isaac up from Scott’s, Peter is staying with Melissa. When they drove back to Stiles’ house they found that Chris Argent was there with Stiles’ dad and decided that they should give them some privacy. Stiles didn’t want to hear his dad’s ‘pleasure noises‘, as he called it; Derek thought he should be forced to as a punishment, but he didn’t want to hear the sheriff and Chris Argent together either; so as Derek’s apartment isn’t furnished yet they decided to make use of guest room at Danny’.

Stiles is currently kneeling in the centre of the bed. He’s naked, his hands cuffed behind his back, a chain pulling his arms up slightly where it attaches to the collar around his neck. His lips spread obscenely wide around the red rubber ball gag in his mouth.

Derek doesn’t think that Stiles gets that this is a prelude to him being punished, not given the way Stiles’ cock his hard, drooling his pre-come on the bedding below as it bobs up and down in time to his heartbeat. He thinks he should probably should have left on the cock-cage. A grin breaks out across Derek’s face as he thinks of a suitable punishment; it calms his anger, his restless pacing.

Derek crawls along the bed to Stiles’ side, a smirk twitching around his lips, “Stiles,” he whispers into his ear, “the week isn’t over, you are still not allowed to come.”

There’s a whimper muffled in the gag stretching Stiles’ mouth.

“For putting on those glasses I am gonna punish you,” Derek continues breathing into Stiles’ ear, “I am gonna put you across my knee and spank you. Hard. Fast. And for a long time.”

Stiles’ cock bobs and drools at the thought of his Dom doing anything to him hard, fast, and for a long time.

“If you come when I am spanking you then when I put the cock cage back on you it will not be for the rest of the week, it will be for the rest of the week and the following month.”

Stiles is still gagged as he lays across Derek’s lap; the heat spreading over his ass like fire from the constant SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The pace unerring and the force brutal. If Derek can spank him like this with his hand Stiles doesn’t think he needs the hairbrush he normally uses for punishment.

The tears and snot are a mess over his face as he cries into the gag; but his cock is still rock hard, red and straining and he can feel the build-up as his balls pull up tight in their sack. He wills himself not to, tells his traitorous cock and balls NO, NO, NO; the release erupts from him, spraying over Derek’s jean clad legs.

He’s sitting astride Derek’s lap, keeping his crimson sore ass from touching anything. His arms are around Derek’s neck and Derek is rubbing soothing circles on his back, kissing his forehead and tear soaked eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and some lotion on your ass,” Derek says, “then I’ll put the CB6000 back on you,” Derek lifts Stiles’ head so he is looking him in the eye, “and this time it will not be coming off until the end of the thirty-three days.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles dejectedly murmurs.


“Let’s see how you’re progressing, shall we,” Raymond White cheerfully asks as he enters Jackson and Matt’s cell. There are four guards with him; no technicians.

This is the first time that the man has been back since he forced the technician into giving them the serum two days previous; Jackson is sure of that, judging by the meals they have had and that Matt has been taken from the cell twice.

During that time Matt’s transformation slowed, then stopped, and now appears to be reversing. But Jackson is worried; and that is something he never thought he’d be, worried about Matt Daehler. He’s been running a fever, as the Kanima scales recede his temperature has been increasing.

Raymond White kneels beside the thin mattress where Matt and Jackson are lying and leans over Matt, and Jackson finds himself growling at him.

“I’d suggest you let me examine him without distraction,” White looks Jackson in the eye, not moving from where he is. When Jackson quiets he resumes his inspection of Matt.

“I don’t think this is going to be the result we were hoping for,” he looks at Jackson, “and you are showing no signs of any effects taking place, your blood work shows none of the cells from the serum remaining.”

White rises and leaves the room.

Jackson wraps himself around Matt’s body.

“Hold on Matt, Scott is coming, he’s close now, and he’ll be here soon.”

Jackson hopes that it is soon enough.

Chapter Text

Boyd wakes when the boy clinging to him starts from his sleep; his eyes wide and fearful, sadness brimming from the edge. His naked body slides from Boyd’s where he had slept and curls in on himself.

“What’s wrong?” Boyd asks, a slight panic in his voice.

“I can’t sense my dad,” the tears streak down his face, “he’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” Boyd curls himself around the boy, his instinct to comfort overriding his actions as if the boy was pack, stroking his back and nuzzling his cheek.

What’s going to happen to me,” the boy asks, “he was the last of my pride, we only had each other, are they gonna kill me too?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Boyd promises, wishing he would stop making statements he cannot guarantee, “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Boyd opens his senses to his pack bond, looking for Erica; the only pack member he knows to be close enough. He finds one weakening link, and two strong links; but he can’t distinguish who each of them are, the chip in his neck confusing his senses. He wishes he had considered doing this before; that he would have known more of his pack is held here.


“What seems to be the problem,” Raymond White asks the guard currently arguing with a teenage boy.

“I was explaining to this Corporal that I need to bring my pc with me as I need to complete course work for school,” the boy is clearly a Dominant, his tone and demeanour affecting the marine on guard, “I am here as you need my help and I am not prepared to fall further behind in school to do so.”

White recognises the insignia on the tablet pc.

“Corporal, surely we can allow this young man to complete his school course work while he is our guest?” White smarms at the marine.

“Mr White, Sir, Doctor Raines instructions are that no electronics that are not connected with the project are to be allowed on the base, Sir,” the marine parrots his orders; his eyes darting down from the boys scrutinising gaze.

“Corporal, look at me,” the marines attention snaps back to the boy, White has never seen command quite this controlled in someone so young, “My tablet is no threat to the security of this base, you are quite happy for me to take it into the base, it is only for my school work after all,” the boys attention switches to White himself, “you agree Mr White?

“I agree,” White finds himself answering.

Sir, your tablet is no threat to the security of this base, I am quite happy for you to take it into the base, it is only for your school work after all, Sir,” the marine parrots.

“Excellent,” Scott McCall smiles.

Rick McCall has been silent throughout this exchange, watching as his son, through domination and influence, got the guard and whoever this Mr White is to allow him to take his pc onto the base.

“You must be the McCalls,” White says, smiling at them, “Scott,” he extends his hand to the boy, Scott shakes his hand firmly, “and Leon,” Scott hides a snicker as White turns to Dick.

“I prefer Rick,” Dick replies.

“Rick, right,” White smiles at them, Scott’s hackles rise as the man smiles at them, his demeanour seems false, “let’s get you settled in; Scott I believe that you’re in the room across from your father.”

“Once I have my bags in the room I will be taken to see my two submissives that are held here,”

“I’ll see what can be arranged,” White replies, recognising the insistence in the tone.

It wasn’t a request.”


We both know,” he whispered in Danny’s ear, “that the D/s profile is an aggregate; that they take how dominant you are and how submissive you are and put them together; we both know that there is a need you have that you’re ignoring,” Danny wishes he would shut up, “Don’t you want to just get down there and lick my boots clean; to run your tongue over that leather and make my boots all shiny with your spit? We both know you do Danny.

Even as Danny fell to his knees, naked before everyone around him, he wanted him to shut up to stop bring these thoughts to his head; he didn’t want Isaac to see him like this, but he couldn’t stop himself; he didn’t look at the rest of the pack, he didn’t want to see the faces of his sub Isaac, or his former sub Stiles, didn’t want to see Scott sneering at him (and just the thought of that caused his hardened shaft to throb), or confusion on Jackson’s face. He leaned over and felt a calmness descend as his tongue brushed over the leather of Derek’s boots.

“And if you miss any bits I’ll put you over my knee.” Danny felt the heat flush over his body as the blush rose in his skin.

Why didn’t Derek just shut up?

Danny woke with a start. The heat pooled at his groin cooling and the sheet sticking to him.

“I hope that dream was about me,” Isaac smiled beside him, Danny couldn’t look at him and he knew that Isaac could tell from the spike in his heart rate, the nauseous smell of shame rolling off him that it wasn’t. He fled to the bathroom; he needed to wash the stench from himself under a scalding shower.

Danny knew how the profiling worked, how it had changed over the decades; they covered that in D/s Social Studies. Forty years ago he would have been labelled a ‘Dominant-Switch‘ and no-one would have thought anything of him submitting to another Dom when the urge to do so arose, and then go back home to his submissive. Now he’s labelled ‘Dominant-03‘.

The way they aggregate your Dominant and submissive grading to get your D/s profile hasn’t changed, only what they call you and what society expects. He knows that his classification as Dominant isn’t wrong, he is a Dominant; but every now and again, just now and again, there is a need to just let go, to allow someone else to take the lead. Metaphorically speaking, or possibly literally.

He’s never had such an intense dream about submitting before; and to have one about Derek, his Alpha. Could that be related, that he submits to Derek as his Alpha therefore his desire to submit to him intensifies?

He wanders back into the bedroom as he towels himself dry. The bed has been stripped and remade with fresh linen, but Isaac is gone. The surge of panic lessens when he realises that he is still in the house. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants he rushes down stairs to find Isaac naked and kneeling beside the dining table; one place set for breakfast. The sadness rolling off Isaac drowns Danny, pulling his emotions down with Isaac’s own.

Danny sits in the chair, then reaching over he pulls Isaac off the floor and onto his lap. He needs to find the words to explain to Isaac; explain in a way that he doesn’t lose him, that Isaac doesn’t think he isn’t dominant enough to retain his claim.

Isaac’s eyes are downcast, his hands loosely clasped in his lap; Danny can’t stop himself from nuzzling comfort along his jawline, nipping at his chin. Isaac passively sits as Danny tries to appease his pack-mate; sits and submissively accepts the comfort he offers. Danny feels the lack of response like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He stops, and rests his head against Isaac’s; his mouth puffing little breaths against the shell of his ear.

“The dream I had wasn’t about you,” Danny feels Isaac tense in his lap as he starts to explain, “but it wasn’t about another submissive either.”

Isaac’s confusion at Danny’s words washes over him as he remains silent in Danny’s lap.

“I’ve never had...” Danny falters as he tries to explain, his fear bleeding through his pours and creating a rising apprehension in Isaac, “I’ve had dreams like that, thoughts like that, before, but I’ve never had that strong a reaction.” Danny takes a deep breath, he has to plough through his dread and admit this to Isaac, to his submissive, “I was submitting in the dream, submitting to Derek, our Alpha.”

Danny waits for Isaac’s reaction, his worry growing with Isaac’s silence.

“Do you want to be collared by Derek?” the confusion Isaac feels bleeding into his voice.

“No,” Danny starts, then stops thinking how to explain, “at least, I don’t want to be his submissive, or anyone’s submissive, not outside of a scene at least, and not often. It’s just sometimes there’s someone dominant enough and feel... I want to submit for a while.”

“So, mostly you want to be the dominant?”

“Yes, my dominant rating was higher than my submissive rating, so I aggregate out as a Dominant, and nearly always that’s where my head is at; a few decades ago I would have been profiled as a ‘Dominant-Switch’, but they removed those classifications.”

“But it fits you better,” Isaac isn’t asking; Danny can see that he gets it.

“Yeah,” Danny feels calmer, less worried, but he has to ask, “I... I still want you as my submissive; I still want to collar you, legally, when we can. Do you...”

“Yes, I still want to wear your collar Danny, Sir,” Isaac smiles at him, his concern gone, “we can ask Derek if he’s willing to top you occasionally, when you need it.” Danny blanches at the thought of admitting to someone else, “only when you’re ready to Sir,” Isaac look turns pensive, “though, I...” he stops mid-sentence.

“Isaac?” the authority of Danny’s voice bringing a grin to Isaac.

Before I was with you, I did occasionally have this fantasy of submitting to two Doms,” Isaac ducks his head and looks at Danny through his lashes and mop of hair falling in front of his face, “Do you think that would work with your infrequent need to submit? You and I submitting to Derek, while I submit to you and Derek?” there’s a sexy blush creeping up Isaac’s body, “or another Dom of your choice?”

There’s a vibrant flash of colour in Danny’s eyes as a growl rips from his throat and he claims his submissive’s mouth in need.


Chris Argent woke alone in John Stilinski’s bed; he could hear the shower running and saw that the Sheriff’s uniform was not laid out, he was sure that John was supposed to be working today.

He goes over the previous evening in his head, remembering how John had taken him into his sub-space so easily; had pulled the details of the phone-call from his father. He’s sure John has called in some favours and doesn’t plan to let him go, or not go alone, to the meeting.

He slips from the bed and reaches the top of the landing when he hears the water turn off. He looks down the stairs and doesn’t see his clothes, he hears the bathroom door open.

“Your clothes and in the wash; they should be ready to transfer to the dryer now, that should give you time to shower and have breakfast,” he turns to see John standing there naked, towel in hand as he finishes drying himself.

“Why are my clothes being washed,” Chris bites out; as his thoughts war internally he has no right to hold me here, but you want him to.

“I figured it was the easiest way to stop you running off into a trap on your own,” John easily answers.

“You can’t,” Chris fumes at him, “I’m not you’re collared sub, you can’t stop me leaving like that!”

John’s expression darkens at Chris’s words and Chris finds his eyes dropping to a spot in the floor before him.

“You’re right boy,” John all but growls at him, “you’re not anyone’s collared sub, so I suggest unless you plan to walk out there naked as you are and have me arrest you for being indecently dressed for an un-collared sub that you get your spanked red ass in the shower, now boy.”

Chris audibly swallows and then heads to the bathroom.

“If you really think I’m not gonna look after you boy, and do my damnedest to stop you doing something stupid, then you don’t know me very well yet,” John says as Chris passes him into the bathroom.

As Chris stands under the cascading water his emotions are torn; the brief look of hurt that flashed over John’s face when he said ‘I’m not you’re collared sub‘ feeling like lead in his gut, the bubble of elation that John wants to look out for his well-being, and the coil of panic that tells him he shouldn’t be obeying another Dom; not yet, it’s too soon.


Raymond White need to find out more about Scott McCall.

He recognised the Carmichael Industries tablet; he’d worked with Master Gianni and his sub Chuck on previous missions. He knew of Master Gianni di Marco before that, his father Ames White had worked on the Transgenic Project that created him; his father was one of four people connected to the project that knew the ‘scorched earth‘ policy invoked on the project didn’t terminate all of the ‘genetic materials‘, all of the subjects, in that project laboratory, one of the twelve got out. The surviving subject had help.

He had been investigating rumours that a covert group within the NID had restarted or was running a similar project; now he was undercover within that group and hadn’t been able to report back to Langley. Maybe with this Cody Banks that Master Gianni had sent in he could get intel out; and arrange for extraction. He may have already overplayed his hand in saving that subject three ay dash zero zero one, Matt Daehler, when he used a version of the original serum to stop the reptilian transformation; he’s sure from his father’s notes that the dosage was just enough for the reptile and tiger to take each other out. It was only a placebo he had the technician give the Whittemore kid, but he had to make it look as though he was trying to succeed where so far Dr Raines had failed; unlike her fathers’ project.


Jackson was wrapped tightly against Matt, one hand gently carding through his hair.

Matt’s temperature had reduced, his Kanima scales were still receding back and his appearance had returned to a far more human norm.

He ignored the initial sound of the door opening, sure it was just goons with more needles to inject them with something or extract more blood and guns to ensure they obeyed; but then he caught the scent rolling into their cell. Jackson bolted to a sitting position on the pallet, hoping his sense of smell was right, that this wasn’t some trick or wishful thinking on his part.

He saw Scott, his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth as he swallowed; watching Scott take in the room, the goons with guns, and what Jackson was sure was the pathetic sight of his two naked submissives on the excuse for a bed. The scowl that Scott wore wouldn’t have looked out of place on Derek.

Jackson moved to get off the pallet and go to his Dom, before he had left the mattress one of the goons had the barrel of their rifle in his face. Next instant there is blood splattering from the goon’s broken nose as Scott smashes the butt of the rifle back into the goon’s face and wrenches the rifle from his hands.

The other guards go for their own weapons and Scott turns to them and commands them ‘Stop!

They do, each one of the guards stops still where they stand, including the one whose nose he just broke.

These are MY submissives, MINE,” Scott snarls at the goons, they turn their heads down, eyes cast submissively, and Jackson knows they are not all submissives, he’s seen the way they react to orders, “you do not threaten what is MINE. I’m taking them from this room back to the one I have been given in this place, they will be there with me.”

Scott turns to Jackson and Matt, Jackson can see the concern on his face over Matt; he is still asleep and hasn’t stirred through the altercation.

“Can you carry him?” Scott asks Jackson.

Jackson feels his wolf clamouring to rub against his Mate, to nuzzle and lick and nip at his uneven jaw, to roll over and present his belly asking for forgiveness. The need and instinct of it nearly overwhelming, the whine clawing at his throat to escape.

“Yes Sir.”

One of the guards makes to protest, but a scowl from Scott has him closing his mouth, not uttering more than a gasp.

Jackson hasn’t seen outside this cell since he arrived; having to use the free standing shower and crouch over the hole that passed for the toilet in the corner. Food was brought into the cell for them as was a towel to dry themselves when they showered. The shower worked when they had been brought a towel.

Now he was walking out through the door into a ten foot corridor, the only exit the door at the far end, the door behind them closed and then the door ahead opened. They walked through into a large circular room with a central flat four walls that appeared to house an elevator. Along the curved wall, that holds the door to the corridor that leads to the cell he and Matt were held in, Jackson can see there around two dozen other doors.

On one of the walls in the centre of the room were the words ‘SUB-LEVEL TEN‘. They get in the elevator. The elevator holds the four guards, Scott, and Jackson carrying Matt. Jackson can see one of the guards’ presses the button beside ‘SL-5‘ and the elevator starts to rise. Unlike the buttons and text for ‘L-0‘ to ‘SL-8‘ that are black the buttons and text ‘SL-9‘ to ‘SL-12‘ are coloured red and require a key-card to operate.

They walked in silence to the room Scott had; the guards leaving them at the door, no doubt one of them was headed to the get his nose checked out and to change his bloodied uniform.


Chris stops as he is about to put the towel in the laundry basket; his clothes are downstairs with John and if he puts the towel in there he’ll have nothing to cover himself with.

“Drop the towel in the basket, and get your ass down here,” John shouts from the bottom of the stairs. Chris does as he’s told, dropping the towel in the basket and leaves the bathroom.

“Breakfast is ready and we’re in the kitchen,” Chris hears John shout as he reaches the top of the stairs. ‘We’re in the kitchen‘, there is someone else here. His head tells him to go back to the bathroom, to get the towel out of the basket, that John isn’t his Dom and can’t make him stay naked in front of others; but that other part of him says that he to obey John, he doesn’t want to anger the Dom and have him think that he is a wilful submissive who is disobedient. He knows there are times when he has been in his sub-space, naked and kneeling beside John that Scott has been here and seen him, within the confines of a private home a Dominant can have their submissive naked even if other people are present. With his heart pounding and his dick stirring he walks down the stairs and heads to the kitchen.

“Your clothes are dry, they’re on the counter top there by the door,” John says over his shoulder as Chris enters the kitchen, John is plating up some bacon, sausage and eggs; Rebeccah Koch is sitting at the table.

“Hi, Chris,” Rebeccah says as he walks over to his clothes and bends over to pull on his underwear.

“Hi,” Chris replies softly. He finishes dressing.

Two hours later, after leaving a message for Allison, Chris finds himself in a car with Rebeccah heading to the meeting point. His Dom... John had made it clear that he didn’t trust Gerard, that he wasn’t allowing Chris to go on his own to what he believed was a trap. As John couldn’t take time off work, with the recent missing teenagers and the lack of local officers after the events at the station, he figured that another known hunter tagging along with him would be less suspicious. Chris couldn’t really fault the Dom’s logic. The Dom, not his Dom; not yet.


Stiles is naked save for his collar and the cock-cage, his spanked red ass visible to all; he is unpacking the boxes of kitchen utensils as his Dom is building the wooden framed bed. They are in the loft apartment that they viewed now that Derek has signed the lease.

Stiles is sure that Derek didn’t consider the spanking part of the punishment. When it was happening Stiles wasn’t really thinking about it, but afterwards it didn’t make sense for Derek to spank him with his hand as a punishment, not when he knows Stiles is a masochist and likes Derek spanking him with his hand, a lot.

Derek had been worried about him, he got that, he felt that through the bond they have as each other’s Mate; Derek had been angry with him for putting himself in danger, but it wasn’t the anger that was the overriding emotion that had Derek pacing around Danny’s guest bedroom last night, it was fear. Derek had been scared of losing him, and Stiles couldn’t stop thinking how adorable Derek was worrying about him, how much he loved him and wishing he would quit pacing and give him some loving now that he had taken the cock cage off and that lead to thoughts of how Derek could show him how worried he was... and Stiles’ thoughts grind to a halt as he remembers that in those thoughts he had been having the previous evening one of them had been Derek spanking him until he came; and that’s what Derek had done. What does that mean? Is it related to the bond as Mates? Did he somehow top from the bottom?

The sound of the intercom for the door startles Stiles from his pondering, the clatter of cutlery on the floor earning him a raised eyebrow from Derek as he lifts the handset to answer. The growl of answer to whomever is on the other end of the intercom suggests that Derek isn’t happy to meet their guests.

“Master di Marco and his sub are on their way up,” Derek turns to Stiles, “Open the door to them when they ring the doorbell.”

“Should I put on some clothes before they get here?” Stiles asks his chest flushing pink as the doorbell rings; he looks at his Dom pleadingly, his cock constrained in the cage as it tries to fill at the heated look in his Dom, his Mates, eyes and knows the answer. Sighing he walks to the door opening it to the Master and his sub.

Master di Marco sits across from Derek, and Chuck kneels at his Master’s feet. Stiles kneels beside Derek, copying Chuck’s submissive posture. He listens as Master di Marco informs Derek that there is a part of Deaton’s plan that they did not inform Scott about. That part needs Stiles’ participation; once the location of the base is known.


Matt is still a sleep on the double bed in the room that Scott has in the complex; Jackson is kneeling beside Scott with his head in Scott’s lap as Scott sits at the desk with the tablet. Scott is working through another of the coursework tasks, one hand brushing through Jackson’s hair. The flash of the icon in the corner of the screen informing him that it had connected to the bases network and delivered its package. He leaves the tablet switched on and connected to the power socket.

Ruffling Jackson’s hair Scott stands and walks over to the bed. He feels Jackson’s pang of jealousy as he rests his hand on Matt’s forehead, checking his temperature, he looks back over to his other sub, his Mate.

“Jacks?” Scott quirks an eyebrow.

“I...” Jackson looks down, he can’t meet his Dom’s gaze, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Scott walks over to where Jackson is still kneeling beside the chair, he hooks a finger under his submissive’s chin and raises his head to look at him.

“For running before I let you explain,” Jackson looks to the floor as Scott holds his head up, “for lying to Matt when I woke here, telling him you had rescinded your claim and that no-one wanted him as their sub.”

“Why did you lie to Matt?” Scott feels the mix of emotions coming from his Mate. The rising anger, the jealousy.

“It’s Matt,” Jackson’s eyes fly up to meet his Dom’s, his Mate’s, eyes, “I can’t forgive him for what he did, what he made me do, and I don’t want to share you, my Mate, with him.”

“Do you think that my having another submissive is the same as being your Mate?” Scott asks.

“No, Sir,” Jackson growls, the idea of equating being his Mate to being his submissive grating, raising his hackles; Jackson hasn’t been a wolf very long but he knows there is a difference.

“Jackson,” Scott holds Jackson’s gaze with his own as he warns his sub over the growl, “You know you still have to write your list of suitable punishments that I asked for after the lacrosse match when we were still defining our relationship.”

“Yes Sir.” Jackson had actually forgotten about that conversation after the match, it seemed so long ago now; before events overtook them.

Scott backs up to the bed and beckons Jackson to follow him. Climbing onto the bed he sidles over beside Matt, looking over to Jackson he pats the bed beside him indicating he wants Jackson to join him. Slowly Jackson crawls up beside his Mate, the quiet whimper of distress escaping. Jackson was able to comfort Matt when they were alone, it was the right thing to do, it was what Scott would do and expect him to do; now that Scott is here, and seeing Scott care for Matt, he can’t seem to reign in his feelings of jealousy and anger towards Matt.

Scott nuzzles along his Mate’s neck and jawline to comfort him.

“After this place everything will get sorted out, Matt will get the help he needs and you’ll be safe,” Scott whispers against Jackson’s ear. He intends to make sure that Jackson and Matt both get out of this place.

“I’ll be safe with you,” Jackson wants him to clarify, needs him to state that they will be together. Something in the way Scott worded what he said worries him.

“I certainly hope with me,” Scott smiles at him, but Jackson can see the way it doesn’t reach his eyes; he knows a fake smile, he gave them often enough. He gives the same smile back to his Dom, his Mate, and worries why he thinks they won’t be together.


The pain racks through her body as she wakens.

She notices the feeling of earth and grass under her naked body instead of the cement floor of the cellar first. Then the feeling of something crusted and dried around her mouth; when she moves her hand to wipe at her mouth she sees the flakes of red streaking along her arm and the dark stains under her fingernails. Blood.

The half-eaten dog lying to her side near the edge of the lake is the next thing to grab her attention.

Somehow she got out while in her... the mountain lion form. Every other time after a transformation Christine Raines has always woken in the cellar of the cabin. She locks the door and descends the stairs. She hasn’t escaped from there before.

How did she get out? Where did the dog come from?

She washes the worst of the blood from her body in the cold water of the lake; grateful at least that she is still on her family’s property and not nearer the boundary with one of the camping grounds. The dog must have wandered onto her property, she can’t have gone to one of the campsites with the cat in control. She absolutely can’t have.

She needs the Tylenol and Percodan she brought with her to deal with the pain. This is the worst it has been since the transformations started the month following the bite from one of the subjects; that was four years ago. Now every thirty three days she becomes one of the beasts. She knows that as the pain of the transformation increases the body is weakening, becoming less able to handle the change. Soon, like every other subject of the serums, including the one that bit her, her body will succumb. Unless she can find the solution, find the way to make her serum work and give humans the benefits without the need to transform into the animal. She absolutely has to succeed.

Chapter Text

Christine Raines is considering taking some more Tylenol, and definitely some Percodan. When she got back to the cabin, after waking by the lake, she had taken one of each, drawn a hot bath and soaked for over an hour before adding some more hot water so that she could actually wash the rest of the blood and grime from her body. And she needed every bite of her large, fried, calorific-filled, meat-filled, breakfast; despite the half-eaten dog that was by the lake. The transformations back and forth from her... from the... cat form had caused her to lose twenty pounds over the three days; her metabolism will still be running faster than normal for the next few days, meaning that she needs to favour high calorie and high protein food to help maintain muscle and recover the lost weight. She hasn’t fully recovered the loss from the last transformation, she knows that currently she is under her healthy minimum. The same weight loss occurred with subjects that expired, their bodies weakened by the successive transformations.

Before she can take another pill for the pain there is the sound of a car on the gravel outside, shortly followed by a knock at the door. She opens the door to find a deputy on the other side of the screen, his car parked to the side.

“Yes officer,” she pushes the screen open, “can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am,” the deputy grimly intones, “but we’re visiting all residences and camp grounds in the area to warn people that there has been an animal attack in the area...”

Before the deputy can finish Christine is interrupting him.

“An animal attack? Is anyone hurt?” There can’t be, it was only the dog that was there when she woke up and they can’t have found it. She notices that the officer seems a little cautious in answering her questions, “I’m a doctor, and I may be able to help.”

“That’s okay, ma’am, the family that was attacked by the cougar have been treated at the local hospital, it’s only their family dog that isn’t accounted for, but the cougar was seen dragging that off, so we’re not expecting there to be much to find. The young boy, his older sister and their father where the victims of the attack, and two men at the same camp site that tried to help. They have all been treated for bite and scratches, mostly just needed some stitches and a few shots...”

She doesn’t totally recall what was said and done after that point, not until she realises that it has gotten dark outside and she is sitting at the kitchen table. She vaguely recalls the officer leaving and that she made some comments about the fact that she would be careful, but that she is leaving later that day to return to her work in LA.

But the thought stuck in her head is that the cat she becomes didn’t just kill a dog, she bit five people. There are five people who now have the virus in their system, a young boy and his sister among them. She doesn’t know how to contain this. She can’t involve the covert NID cell she is working with. If they find out that she had already moved into human testing, about the side effects of the serum, that she was already bitten by one of the subjects and the reason for her near monthly three day vacations is so the virus can transform her into a freaking mountain lion then her career, her life’s work; it will all be over, and she won’t be able to prove her father’s ideas were right. She can’t let that happen. She knows that the General is already suspicious of the burn rate through the supernatural subjects, of the wastage of serum produced in the labs in sub level nine, of what exactly she has in storage on sub level twelve.

No, what she needs to do is remove the threat of the infected humans on her own, without the NID becoming involved; she has twenty-eight days before their first transformation. She needs to come up with a plan.


Jackson is nuzzling into the nape of his Dom’s neck, curled against his side, his hand gliding across the expanse of his taut abdomen until it hits against another hand, the fingers entwining with his own. His eyes flutter open. He feels one of Scott’s arms curled around him, holding him against his side; looking across he sees Scott’s other arm mirroring the same position around Matt who’s also curled against Scott, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder just as Jackson’s is. The hand whose fingers are entwined with his over his Dom’s stomach are Matt’s. The low warning growl starts at the back of his throat, ‘my Dom‘, ‘my Mate‘, ‘Mine‘. Matt’s eyes fly open catching Jackson’s gaze fixed on him.

He feels Matt slowly pull his hand out of his own, sees him start to back away from Scott; can see Scott’s arm tighten its hold on Matt, holding him in place beside him.

Jackson,” his Dom’s tone is laced with warning, “we talked about this last night, play nice.”

Jackson whimpers at the admonishment, nuzzling along Scott’s jawline, licking and nipping at his chin looking for forgiveness. Scott accepts the active submissive attention of his Mate, his hold on Jackson keeping him close, as his other hand lazily rubbing over Matt’s back, soothing him.

Matt relaxes against his Dom, enjoying the possessive feel of the hand on his back, as he watches Jackson lick, nip and kiss his Dom. Their Dominant... for now. He can’t help the pang of jealousy he feels, the want of the same intimacy, love and controlling guidance. But he knows that Jackson can never accept him in their relationship, that he can never forgive him for what he did; and he understands that. Eventually this, what he has here in this bed now, is going to end when they get free of this place; Scott won’t be their Dominant, he’ll be Jackson’s Dominant. He just wishes that there was something he could do to earn a chance at kneeling beside Jackson in front of Scott to accept his collar.


Stiles is seething, he is enraged, he is furious, he is exasperated, he is livid, he is frustrated, he is madder than a hatter; no wait that last one is wrong.

He is very, exceedingly, extremely, truly, really, greatly, profoundly, deeply, acutely, angry at Derek. His Dom. His Mate.

They sat and listened to the plan Deaton had videoed on Master di Marco’s phone. Which involved him, Stiles, as a major player, as the person voted most valuable player, the player to hit the ball in the back of the net, to score the winning touchdown, to hit the ball out of the park and make the winning homerun. Stiles Stilinski MVP. Except, Derek vetoed it.

The plan turned on the fact that Master di Marco, Chuck and Deaton know the layout of the base where Matt, Jackson, and probably Boyd and Erica are being held. They know roughly where it is, just not exactly. That is why they have Scott now inside to send the GPS location.

Stiles part in the plan is to sprinkle some magic dust across the exits so that only the supernatural humanoids can leave the building, and the human agents that are holding them will be trapped inside so they can’t pursue them. Stiles would need to go inside the base, down through the levels blocking routes and trapping the rogue agents on each level so that they are in smaller groups to be dealt with by Master di Marco’s team, the inference being that they wouldn’t be human, as they go in behind to pick them up.

Chuck would be going in with Stiles; but for the magic dust to work it needed Stiles; Stiles was the spark that would make it work.

There was only one entrance and exit at the ground level, once inside and blocking off the route between the levels as they worked their way down Stiles and Chuck would be trapped on the lower levels until Chuck’s Master gave the signal for Stiles to break the lines of magic dust, and Stiles really needs to find out what the magic dust is actually called it’s not like Deaton didn’t say what it is called, so that Stiles and Chuck can get out and that Master di Marco’s team can take the humans out.

Okay, Stiles recognises that it’s risky, okay, more than risky, it’s dangerous. He can see that, he’s not stupid, and despite what Derek seems to think he doesn’t relish throwing himself into a suicidal plan; but Master di Marco must think there is a good chance of succeeding, he’s sending his submissive into the base too, it’s not as if Stiles going in on his own. They would be going in with fake transfer papers and IDs.

Stiles was a good, obedient, submissive; he stuck to the agreement he had with Derek and did not voice his objections to Derek’s saying no on his behalf while Master di Marco and Chuck were present. He waited until they had left. Thinking back on it his opening line might not have been the best way to start.

What the hell Derek, what do you mean no? I want to help get our pack back together.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Master...” the growl from Derek kinda distracts Stiles from his thoughts as Derek pushes him back against the wall, “stop being all growly and in my face, I’m making a point here, Master di Marco,” Derek’s growls intensify at the mention of his name, “must think there is a reasonable chance, he is sending in his submissive after all, and doesn’t he have just as much of a duty to protect him as you have to protect me?”

“It’s. Too. Dangerous.”

“You didn’t stop Scott going, on his own.”

“He isn’t my submissive, he isn’t my Mate.”

But you are his alpha, isn’t it your responsibility as alpha to ensure the safety of your pack, to protect your pack?”

Derek’s eyes are wide, his mouth half-open and frozen; made motionless at the shock at Stiles’ words.

“And,” Stiles continues to barb him, “as your Mate, not just your submissive, am I not supposed to help protect our pack?”

Derek didn’t respond, he didn’t speak, he didn’t move; he just stood there in front of Stiles.

“And,” Stiles keeps prodding, “if I wasn’t your Mate, if I was only your sub, in which frakkin’ reality would I just meekly stand by and not help! But I am your Mate as well as your sub, and what sort of Mate would I be if I didn’t want to help protect you and our pack?

Derek finally moved, a twitch of his lips as they pulled together, a throb of the vein in his temple; then he stormed out of the loft. His loft. Stiles got dressed and left, jumped in his jeep and drove.

When Stiles stopped, when he looked around and realised where he was, then he knew what he planned on doing. And Derek wasn’t gonna like it.

He walked up to the door and knocked. When the door opened Stiles looked up at the guy.

“Hey, Chuck, is your Master in?”


Lydia is sitting in a chair across from Allison, Jed is sitting at Allison’s feet. Allison called this morning, she had just picked up a message from her dad. Allison is running her fingers through Jed’s hair as he rests his head against her knee, a lazy smile playing over his lips.

“So,” Lydia sharply comments, “your dad just left a message that he was gonna be gone for a few days,” she pauses briefly, “on hunter business,” another pause, “with Rebeccah,” pause, “Jed’s sister.”

“Yes,” Allison hisses, “I wish I knew what he was up to, he was looking into a hunter connection with the disappearances for the Sheriff.” Allison pulls on Jed’s hair, pulling his head back until he is looking back at her, “Did your sister tell you anything about what they were doing? Where they were going?”

“No Miss,” Jed gasps, his eyes widening in want at the sting of his scalp as her fist tightens in his hair.

“Then I guess we need to ask the Sheriff,” Lydia’s tone matter-of-fact, “see if he knows what is going on.”


Derek had fled from the loft.

He saw how much he had not only upset his Mate, but how much he had failed him and he was ashamed, and angry with himself. He couldn’t face his Mate, his submissive knowing he was so close to losing him. For all his talk when Danny had tried to meet Stiles’ needs and failed, for all his promises of meeting those needs, of being the Dom that Stiles demanded. While Danny had tried to meet Stiles’ desires, Derek had instead failed to see what his sub, his Mate, didn’t want. And Derek still didn’t understand his actions the previous night; that was not how he should have acted, why did he spank him to orgasm and promise to keep him locked in the cock-cage for over a month?

Trying to keep Stiles safe was important to Derek, more important that anything. But in trying to take that responsibility solely on himself he had failed to see that Stiles needed to be able to be partly responsible for protecting himself, and in protecting Derek and their pack.

Knowing that he had to admit to Stiles that he had been wrong, that it was the only way to fix this, he rushed back to the loft, to his Mate. He still wasn’t going to allow Stiles to go into the base, even with Master di Marco’s submissive. Not unless he was also there to protect his Mate.

Arriving at the loft his brow creases in frantic worry, there is no sign of Stiles. Panic starts to gnaw at his gut, but there is no scent of anyone having entered the loft, which means that Stiles must have left. Returning to the street he sees that the jeep is gone. The thought of Stiles out there on his own, when had stated that no pack member was to be on their own; and yes, he knows it’s his fault, that he left his Mate on his own in the apartment in the first place.

He has to find him, he has to know he is safe. Now.


Scott is running through some of the chemistry questions for the module section he just completed on the tablet. Jackson and Matt are still sleeping on the bed. He is curious to see their reaction when they awaken to find they are wrapped around each other and not him.

The door to the room opens and voice behind him barks.

“Mr McCall, General Cole requests your attendance in her office, Sir”.

He turns to the marine, only it isn’t a marine the man is wearing an air force uniform.

“Then get me my submissive’s clothes,” Scott demands, “I took them from that cell to this room naked, but I am not parading my submissives naked in front of any more Doms in this base.”

“Sir, the General requested your presence, not your submissives, Sir.”

“I am not leaving them alone in this room, or anywhere else, they will accompany me, or the General can come here.”


Kindly arrange for my submissives’ clothes, or tell the General that they need to come to me,” Scott is close to compelling the corporal to obey him, “either way I am not leaving my submissives alone.”

“You don’t trust them,” Matt’s voice says after the airmen closes the door as he exits, at Scott’s raised eyebrow he adds, “Sir.”

“They wanted me here to convince Deaton to help them with their project,” Scott turns his attention back to the flashing icon on the tablet, “but they haven’t yet mentioned Deaton, or asked me to talk to him. I don’t trust them,” he turns back to face Matt and Jackson, wondering do they realise they are still holding on to each other, “and I am not leaving you two alone for them to take from me again.”


Rick McCall had paced around his room. He was right across the hall from his son’s room. He heard him demand that either his subs clothes were brought to him so that they could be dressed to go to the General’s office with him or that the General came to him.

That isn’t gonna go down well.

He wishes that Scott would talk to him, listen to his warnings about the people here. Their aims and cause might be one that Rick agrees with, but their methods and the ruthlessness they’ve shown can be chilling. He has no intention of ending up on the wrong side of them, and he needs to make sure that Scott doesn’t either. Whenever he has tried to get close, to show that he cares, Scott has just shut him out.

He knocks on the door.

“What do you want?” Scott snaps at him, his brow creases in a frown as his eyebrows draw together.

“The General isn’t a women you want to piss off,” at Scott’s deepening furrowed brow Rick looks over Scott’s shoulder to the two subs on the bed, jutting his chin in their direction he says, “I’ll keep an eye on your two boys, make sure no-one moves them while you go see what the General wants.”

Scott snorts his incredulity at Dick’s proposal.

“Jackson is only here because you arranged for him to be kidnapped,” Scott growls in his anger, “for all I know you were involved in Matt and Deaton being kidnapped too, so in what frakkin’ way am I gonna trust you to look after my submisives?

“In whatever frakkin’ way it takes so that when I say I want to see you in my office you come to my office.” The female voice crisp, clear and clearly pissed sounds above the click-clack of heeled shoes marching down the corridor; the woman’s tone and steady stride towards him reminding Scott of Lydia. Except her hair is pulled back in a tight bun; it gives her face a severe, sharp, edge; makes her look cruel. Scott bristles at the way she looks down her nose at him.

“General,” Rick starts to try and smooth the situation.

Stow it McCall,” the General interrupts him, “don’t you have a job that you haven’t completed yet? You still have a man you haven’t retrieved from your last mission, I suggest you go find him.”

“Let me guess,” Scott sneers, “Deaton, that’s why I haven’t seen him since I got here, despite the fact that you wanted me here to convince him of the merits of your... undertaking.”

Scott can see that Dick is about to say something until at a raised eyebrow from the General he scurries down the corridor. She pushes past him into the room.

“We have some things to talk about Mr McCall, concerning you, your submissives, and what we are trying to achieve here.” She looks back at him, “close the door as you come back in.”

Suppressing his snarl at another Dom trying to command him, and putting themselves between him and his submissives, he does. He still feels like a fly caught in a spider’s web.


Chris comes to, his hand instantly covering his eyes from the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. The hard unyielding scrape of the concrete against his shoulder as he turns away from the light.

“You’re awake, finally,” he hears Rebeccah cheerily call.

He looks around. They are still in the disused industrial park that the meeting was set up for. Rebeccah had stopped the car before they entered the area and got out, leaving him to drive in as if by himself. She then followed in on foot, scouting round the perimeter to provide cover for him.

He had barely gotten out of the car, he tried to keep distance between the two men and himself; but they spread themselves out on either side as they walked around talking about how they were friends of Gerard’s, that they were here to take him to him, it wasn’t safe for Gerard to be seen in public given what had happened in Beacon Hills, that the council had become aware and... Chris hadn’t been able to keep his eyes on both of them and then the next he knew was the sting in his neck and the world fading out of focus until it was black.

Rebeccah has both men stripped and tied up; hog-tied with a half-inch diameter length of hemp rope. They are both gagged with a bright red rubber ball gag strapped in their mouths.

“You had to strip them?” Chris asks as he rises from the ground, swaying a little until she steadies him with a grip on his arm.

“Easier to give them incentive to answer,” she easily answers.


Raymond White placed the report on General Diane Coles desk and at first she wasn’t sure why. A mountain lion attack on a campsite, five people injured, two of them children; and the families dog had been carried off by the cougar.

The area wasn’t known for mountain lions, let alone attacks by them.

Then he drew her attention to the area and she made the connection. The campsite was on the edge of Christine Raines property. The attack occurred during her monthly visit to the cabin there; the one she has not yet returned from, the one where she is reportedly being delayed due to a personal life event involving her life partner. As they were profiled under the old system they were classified as sD44, Switch, so they refer to each other as their Life Partner. Their reclassification using the new D/s scale is still to be processed.

“Damn it! What has that women done?”

“The implications are that she has started human testing, and that the results are less than successful,” White calmly replies, “I would suggest that a full review and investigation of the project to-date is required, and that her cabin is included in the review to confirm if she has taken materials off-site and whether she has been conducting human testing off-site.”

“The board has been pushing to start human trials, why would she risk an unauthorised one?”

“If she was less than convinced they would be successful she may have started them to determine viability,” White pulls his mouth into a tight smile, “but that is mere speculation on my part, there is only one person who knows the truth. I’d like your permission to head the review.”

“Granted.” She scrawls her signature on the paper copy of the request in front of her, and then clicks the button on the one on screen adding her electronic authorisation that now winds its way through the system giving Raymond White access to all of the doctor’s files, including her personal encrypted documents. “Have your team start by checking out her life partner, Ms Sarah Marshall. They separated more than two years ago, but neither have filed to have their partnership dissolved.”


The crack, and the snap, sounded off the bare walls of the cell. The thud and gasp as he fell to the floor, the pain stabbing him where the bones cracked and re-shaped themselves, the muscles stretching or contracting as they twisted into the shape required by the new form. He screamed in agony, the sound changing, becoming deeper and less human, becoming a growl of the torture as his body ripped itself apart and reformed. Hands and feet transforming into paws, fingers and toe shrinking as talon like claws extended out.

The pop, pop, pop as the bones in his face broke, as it elongated out, the teeth razor sharp in his snout. The fur sprouting shaggy and dark grey over the limbs, and his back and face.

She had pressed herself back against the wall, scrambled to the corner. Her mind reeling at the sight of her husband as he had... changed. The scream of his pain had made her want to run to him, to comfort him and help, but the inhuman thing he was becoming, the horror unfolding before her, seeing what he was becoming held her against the wall in fear.

The thing that had been her husband turned its gaze on her, the large wolf-like creatures red eyes seeking her out. It bared its teeth, its fangs dripping with bloodied saliva, and snarled.

“Charles?” she asked it, hoping that somewhere in there it remembered who he was, who she was.

The growl that reverberated out of it told her Charles wasn’t there.

Her scream was loud and shrill as the wolf leapt at her, tearing into her flesh with fang and claw.

But no-one would hear Jessica Marshall locked in one of the soundproof rooms of Sub-Level Twelve.

Chapter Text

The mewling and growling from the twitching, naked, boy lying on top of him woke Boyd up. He placed his arms around him to hold and comfort him. The motion causing the boy to start awake.

“You were having a bad dream,” Boyd sleepily says, “wanna talk about it?”

The boy, he still hasn’t told Boyd his name, nuzzles against Boyd’s neck, the dampness of his tears wet on Boyd’s skin.

“Hey, come on,” Boyd tries to soothe him, “it can’t be that bad, it’s only a dream right?”

He feels the slight shake of the head.

“No,” the kid sobs against Boyd’s shoulder, “not just a dream. It’s... it’s when I became the Shah, I was Mirza before, until... until I killed her... my mother. The doctors injected me with something, I don’t know what, and locked me in one of the cells with only just my mother. I was feeling hot, and my head was hurting and then... I don’t know what happened, the next I knew my mother was dead, I was covered in her blood and I was the Shah.”

Boyd pulls him tighter against him, needing to protect him, needing to growl and roar at the people running this place that holds them prisoner. Needing to rip their throats out with his teeth for what they have done to this boy, to Erica, to him and every other supernatural creature they are holding.

“Somehow we will make them pay,” Boyd’s words are softly spoken, and full of intent, full of menace.


Matt and Jackson sat on the bed, right back against the headboard.

They occasionally looked at each other, silently asking ‘what the fuck‘, but mostly keeping their eyes on their angry Dom stalking around the room after the General left. They had both seen it after the General left, Scott slammed the door closed behind her and when he turned to face them his eyes were red before fading back to their amber colour, then to his normal human eyes. How was that possible, Scott wasn’t an alpha? How did his eyes flash red?

Scott was pacing back and forth trying to reign in his wolf. It didn’t like the General, he didn’t like the General. She was domineering and deliberately pushed at his control, trying to get a reaction from him. He’s sure he held his wolf in, at least until after she had left and he closed the door. Maybe a bit more forcefully than he should have.

The way she didn’t ask that he help convince Deaton to aid in their experiments, but told him he would. The way she asserted that Jackson, Matt and others like them are a threat because they aren’t human and that humanity needs to have a defence against them, needs to take their advantages and give it to other humans to help defend against such threats. Didn’t she see the lack of logic in her statement? How would taking supernatural abilities and giving them to humans mean the humans were still human? Wouldn’t they just become more of the supernatural threat she believed humans needed protecting from?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound from the tablet. Turning to look he sees the flashing icon. It’s ready to transmit.


“He can’t just unilaterally decide that I don’t get to help,” Stiles find himself yelling at the Master sitting across from him, realising who he’s shouting at, he shrinks back in the seat and using a more submissive tone of voice continues, “I mean, I wear his collar because I choose to, but , it’s not like I’m collared by him...”

“Because you are still to complete high school and graduate, or do you plan to reject his claim once he can legally collar you?” Master Gianni calmly asks.

“What?!?” Stiles splutters, “No, why would I reject him as my Dominant?”

“You were making the point of not being collared,” the weretiger coolly watches Stiles reaction “and quite pointedly disagreeing with your Dominants decision to another Dominant. I would assume from your comments that you don’t believe he is taking your concerns and needs into account.”

“What?!?” Stiles flails, nearly falling of the chair, “he’s my mate, I’m his mate, he’s just trying to protect me, and okay so, I think he’s being overprotective at times and that he should let me help protect the pack...”

“And you’ve discussed this with him?”


“And he dismissed your need to help protect your pack?”

“Ye... well not exactly, he stormed off all broody and grr-argh,” Stiles is gratified that he stopped himself from making the hand gestures to go with the ‘grr-argh‘ noises.

“And after?” Master Gianni gently probes.

“He’d left the loft so... I left and came here,” Stiles answers, feeling that he is missing something.

Ah,” Master Gianni says, “That explains the agitated alpha about to bang on the door.”

Despite having been told that there was about to be someone knocking at the door, Stiles still jumps when the loud and rapid thump, thump, thump, occurs.


Alan Deaton knew that he was being followed. Leon McCall was not easily fooled and would have realised sooner or later where to look. Unfortunately it was turning out to be sooner.

“Hello Doctor,” Leon McCall grinned at him.

“McCall,” Deaton replied, he was now wishing he hadn’t left the apartment, but being cooped up in di Marco’s place was beginning to drive him stir-crazy. He’d come out just to go to a restaurant and some different scenery. Now that was looking to have been a mistake.

“There are some people that could really use your help,” McCall sneers at him, “and they want to persuade you to of the merits of their endeavours.”

“Well, you and I both know that will not work,” Deaton arches an eyebrow as he replies.

“That’s why they have both of my son’s submissives at the facility,” McCall dryly answers, “to make sure there is someone who can persuade you.”

So focused on McCall, and the threat that he posed, in front of him he was not aware of the second person coming at him from behind. With the sudden pin-prick to his neck Deaton’s surroundings blur and fade.


Scott had Jackson and Matt kneel beside him while he checked the tablet had securely connected to transfer the encrypted data back to Master Gianni and his submissive Chuck. He worked through a couple of the school coursework exercises to cover what the tablet was doing, after all he didn’t know if the General or one of the other staff members on the base would just barge into the room.

When he had completed another of the course exercises he noticed that the transfer was complete. He must have been channelling Stiles as he was suddenly curious as to what the information was that he had helped the two agents gather. Opening one of the documents the software on the tablet decrypted the file automatically as he was logged on to the machine.

Classifications of Species‘ the document was headed, a cursory glance down the list widened Scott’s eyes in disbelief.

Type-0 = Human. Note: reports of humans with advanced abilities, the so called Homo Superior, are now being verified. Some of these humans are showing the ability to disrupt the specific neural pathways in the cerebral cortex that leave the brain vulnerable to suggestion. In short: They always get what they want. The observed mechanisms (so far) for these influencers are eye contact, speech, and touch. Others have displayed abilities with healing others; copy any movement or skill, from observation; generate electrical pulses; increase their strength and speed for short periods of time; possess flawless aim, perfect balance, and greatly enhanced motor skills. These are all skills that we would want to incorporate within advanced human this project aims to create. But this change within human norm needs to be controlled to ensure that these mutations do not unbalance society.

Well fuck. Scott hadn’t considered that they would know about people like him and Dick. It must be why they want him to persuade Deaton to help, but why didn’t they just get Dick to do it?

Type-1 = Ghost. Note: there has been no credible evidence of the existence of these spectres, wraiths, phantoms or spirits.

Type-2 = Vampire. Note: contrary to current popular fiction they do not sparkle in sunlight, and while they are weakened from exposure to sunlight it is not a known to cause the spontaneous combustion popularised by the media. This knowledge has been gathered from observation of the single subject that the facility had been able to verify as being a vampire. The subject is currently held in secure confinement on sub-level ten.

No frakkin way! Derek told them all that vampires didn’t exist. Well, he told them that as far as he was aware they didn’t exist.

Type-3 = Werewolf. Note: the Lupus Hominid, or Lycans as they are referred to in some regions, appear to be the most common and populous of the supernatural creatures that currently threaten the continued existence of normal humans. These are primarily pack animal and have a hierarchal structure, Alpha, Beta and Omega. The Omega can also refer to a Lycan without a pack, within the pack they are the weakest of the pack; the lowest pack members and submissive to the rest of the pack. There are currently six subjects held in the facility. Three recently acquired from Beacon Hills, a female and two males.

They do have Erica and Boyd. Scott needs to find out where they are being held, make sure they are okay. The pack omega is something the Derek never explained to him, he needs to have a word with his alpha about how much of the supernatural world and about being in a werewolf pack he hasn’t told them.

Type-3A = Unknown reptilian being that has similar genetic markers to the lupus hominid, therefore currently classifying as a variant type. Further study of the subject captured needs to be undertaken to understand this species off-shoot more.

Clearly they were referring to Matt. Scott reaches down to stroke Matt’s hair, and his submissive leans into the touch. Scott looks down to his two submissive; both kneeling naked, with their knees shoulder width apart and hands clasped behind their backs, perfectly in position. They had slipped into sub-space from the simple task of kneeling for him. He needs to take care of them. He’ll finish reading this document first then they’ll rest; he can’t take care of them here the way he wants to, the way he needs to.

Type-4 = Werecat. Note: The Felidae Hominids are far rarer than the Lupus Hominids. This may be I part to distinct subspecies found within the family:

Type-4.1 Bagheera (Were-panther)

Type-4.2 Balam (Were-jaguar). SubNote: there are two surviving subjects currently held.

Type-4.3 Khan (Were-tiger). SubNote: this is the primary species used by my father in what is incorrectly referred to as his cloning experiment. He was not creating clones of one original source. His Transgenic Project spliced the material of several source genetic material to rapidly grow a genetically modified human. This I am modifying to introduce the genetic modification through a virus into an already adult human subject. Additionally my father’s artificially created humanoids were designed to be dominant; for the goal of this experiment we need to ensure the obedience of the altered humans, we are therefore choosing submissive subjects for both the source genetic materials and the target test subjects.

Type-4.4 Pumonca (Were-cougar)

Type-4.5 Simba (Were-lion)

Type-4.6 Swara (Were-cheetah)

Type-4.3, a were-tiger. That is what Master Gianni di Marco is. Was he was created in that experiment? It also sounds like Raines is trying to create slave races of werewolves and werecats, for them to be used to protect humans from other supernaturals. That doesn’t sound anything like the goals of the project that Dick told him.

Type-5 = Shifter. Note: these are believed to be rarer still than the Felidae Hominids. These beings can transform themselves into almost any other living creature. No subject is currently held for testing.

Type-6 = Arcane (Witch/Mage/Druid). Note: There has been no verifiable evidence of the existence of ‘magic-users’.

Type-7 = Fae (Boggans, Eshu, Ghille dhu, Nockers, Pooka, Redcaps, Satyrs, Sidhe, Sluagh, Trolls). Note: There has been no credible evidence of the existence of ‘fairies’.

Shifters, people that can transform into more than one animal. Scott wonders if they would have the scent of the animal they mostly transformed into or something else entirely.

And why were there listings for supernatural beings that they had no proof they existed, Ghosts, ‘Magic Users’ (they should meet Peter, it’s a kind of magic that he used to bring himself back from the dead), and Fae? Did they just start with a list drawn from whatever they had read about in fiction or was there some other basis for what they included?

Scott needed to think. With the data sent from the tablet he shut it down. Turning to his two kneeling subs he had them rise and lead them to the bed. He settled himself in the centre of the bed with Matt and Jackson curling in on either side of him, an arm wrapped around each of them.

“Let’s have a little nap before I send for some food,” Scott tells them as they each lay their head against one of his shoulders. Their arms snaking around his abdomen and chest, neither showing the tension at the presence of the other that they had previously.

The three of them quickly falling into an easy torpor.


Raymond White stares at the screen in front of him. The more he and his team have picked their way through the files and notes the worse the situation seems to become.

Christine Raines had started working on her serum long before the NID shadow group put her in charge of this facility and started funding the research. She had an unwavering determination to prove that her father’s ideas were credible, that humans altered for a dedicated purpose (espionage, warfare, assassination) could be created to serve the government need in those grey areas where a normal human may have moral objections.

Going through her private journals he found that she had approached Colonel Frank Simmons with a proposal to resurrect her father’s old transgenic project. He had assumed that the NID had been the ones to contact her, but given that he now knew, she had been working on the serum prior to the project being initiated, that wouldn’t make sense. He was building up a timeline of events, and he was missing the part that explained why she unexpectedly approached the NID looking for additional resources and funding.

Of course as they were digging further into the reams of notes, both project specific and personal, he found that she hadn’t told the NID that she had already been working on the serum. Raines had positioned her approach that everything was only theoretical, based on her father’s previous research. She lied, and got away with it. It was her personal audio journals that she stored on-line, entries covering over four years that helped most in building the picture of what occurred.


Entry 8/25

I can’t tell if the computer simulation is off or the serum is not going to work as I want it to. Sarah says that I should present what I have, that it should be enough for the board to take my suggestion seriously. But I can’t, not yet. I need to find a way to prove to myself that I’ve got it right, that I am going to prove my father didn’t fail as everyone insists he did.

Entry 8/31

I need to test on a live human subject, it is the only way. I was going to inject myself, but Sarah came into the lab before I had the chance. When she realised what I was about to do to she was frantic. Desperately pointing out to me that I couldn’t objectively record the results if they were happening to me. She convinced me, like she always does. I can never say no to her. But how do I find a volunteer for a human trial of serum that no agency knows I am working on?

Entry 10/15

Subject zero dash zero zero one is a Caucasian female, one hundred and forty seven pounds, five feet eight inches. The first three doses of the serum have been injected. Over the last thirty six hours. The serum has been altered from my father’s formula to use mountain lion RNA as I was unable to secure the tiger DNA, I quite have his resources available.

Entry 11/20

Oh no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sa... subject zero dash zero zero one transformed last night. Thirty two days after she... after the serum completed the DNA re-write. During the last month all signs were looking positive, increased strength, metabolism, improvements in hearing and sight range. Everything I was hoping for to prove my father was right. Oh god, I hope she can forgive me.

Entry 5/05

With every transformation she is becoming weaker, losing weight and her immune system is weakening. The increased healing rate is falling, it’s taking longer for even minor injuries to heal each time. I’ve tried to find a cure, a way to reverse the results but I’ve failed. The only option I think I have is to take the results I have and present them as computer simulations, to try and get the funding and resources I need before it’s too late.

Entry 8/09

Simmons is a fool. It’s proving easy to work around him, to keep him and the NID staff occupied on getting the serum to a stage ready for human trials, they are already working in candidates from the services to trial, while I work on the antidote. We’ve marked level ten for cells for the creatures. They have some wolves and family of jaguars, but no tigers. I’ve marked off levels eleven and twelve for ‘storage’.

Entry 11/23

Subject zero dash zero zero one scratched and bit me last night during her transformation. Luckily it wasn’t too deep and I was able to stitch it myself. Every month the transformations are more painful. She doesn’t say so, but I can tell. Every time she loses more weight, she takes more painkillers. It’s all my fault.

Entry 11/25

[Hysterical sobbing] Oh God No. [Hysterical sobbing] Subject... Sarah’s dead.

Entry 12/23

I don’t think Charles and Jessica were entirely convinced when I told them that Sarah had left me or that I don’t know where she is, they are still asking me where their daughter is. I have to stay focused on my work, I can’t let anyone find out about the mistakes I have made. I need to prove my father was right.


Derek buried his nose against Stiles’ neck as he pulled him tightly against him, rubbing his face against Stiles’ skin and the collar around his neck. Stiles waited until Master Gianni and Chuck had left their own room to give them privacy before speaking.

“Okay big guy, put me down.”

He could see the hurt and worry in Derek’s face the moment that he stepped back from Derek’s embrace, before he schooled them away behind an expressionless façade.

“I’m still mad at you...”

“I’m mad at myself,” Derek interrupts.

“Hey, I’m...”

“Shut up Stiles and let me finish,” Derek cuts him off again, “I need to say this.”

Stiles stays silent. When Derek waits, expecting Stiles to speak again, Stiles flails his hands around trying to convey ‘I’m waiting, shutting up and staying silent here’.

“Okay,” Derek starts again and pauses, “I was wrong, I know you want to be able to be responsible for your own safety and that as my Mate you deserve to help protect me and our pack. I’m sorry that I didn’t discuss Deaton’s plan with you before saying no to di Marco, I should have talked to you first,” Derek fixed Stiles with steely stare, “But, as your Mate and as your Dom, I have a responsibility to ensure your safety and protection too, and I am responsible for our packs safety and protection as their alpha. As your Dom and your Alpha my decision needs to be final. When you accepted me as you Dom we discussed that and agreed on that, you can’t just decide not to listen to me whenever you feel like it.”

“I know that you are a higher profiled Dominant than I am submissive, but we agreed we would talk and try to compromise, but you didn’t do that Derek, Sir,” Stiles adds the ‘Sir’ on impulse, needing to let Derek know that despite this... argument he does still want Derek’s collar around his neck, “I need you to keep your promises too Sir, I need you to take account of my needs and limitations.”

“I know Stiles,” Derek says, “I will, as your Dom and your Mate I promise.”

“And what about Scott?” Stiles asks, the biggest reason for his freak-out over Derek saying no to Stiles helping was his worry and concern for his best friend, “Why didn’t you stop him going on a suicide mission?”

“If I hadn’t allowed Scott to go he would have disobeyed me and went anyway,” Derek explains, “Stiles, they have his Mate and nothing would stop him going there and trying to save Jackson, just as if they had you nothing would stop me.”

They are interrupted by Chuck coming back into the room.

“We’ve got the details from Scott, he managed to send the co-ordinates and the research data. My Master is assembling a team for extraction, we need to know if Stiles is in our out.”

Stiles looks at Derek expectantly.

In,” Derek replies looking into his Mates eyes, “but I’m going in with you both.”


Christine Raines had walked through the corridors of the hospital with ease. She didn’t look out of place, easily procuring a white coat and a stethoscope, clip-board in hand. It hadn’t taken her long to get the home addresses of those she... the cougar had attacked. She also got the details of the campsite that they were still staying at. They were there for a couple of more days. This was her best chance to resolve this mistake.

She made her way onto the campsite without much. The family and the two other men were staying in two of the ‘static’ mobile homes near the edge of the camp, closest to her property. They were in a secluded area. All she had to do was rig the external gas canister so that the gas would leak into the home.

She reached the first dwelling and had snuck around to the far side where the gas canister connected to the internal pipes to fuel the heating for the water and cooker.

“Freeze,” she heard as several lights turned on her, she was blinded by the torches shining on her, but she recognised the voice, “Ma’am, we have to take you back to the facility for questioning by Mr White, by order of General Cole.”

“Anders, what is this about?” she asks the lieutenant, as another marine locks handcuffs around her wrists behind her.

“Ma’am, I have my orders, they are to take you into custody and return you to the base for questioning.” The only reply she given as he leads her away, back to the facility.


Chris sits warily in the passenger seat of the car as they drive to the destination that Rebeccah persuaded the two men to give up. They couldn’t wait to talk, anything and everything they were willing to give up just for her touch.

The pleasure that they received as she ran her fingers over their naked torso, he could see the lust building quickly in their eyes. And he knew, there was no way she wasn’t. She got the information and the papers they would need to get into the facility, and all she did was run her fingers over their bodies.

“Don’t worry Chris,” Rebeccah smiles over at him, “you are perfectly safe.”

“Not something I would expect sitting next to a Succubus.”

“Your Dom extracted a promise from me to return you to him safe and untouched,” she grins and it is so feral and lascivious at the same time, “unless you want to be touched and aren’t being compelled.”

“He isn’t my Dom,” his reply automatic.

“But you want him to be,” she counters, but Chris isn’t going to touch that thought. Not yet.

“Does he know what you are?” Chris can’t believe that John would send him out here with her if he did.

“No, you are one of only four people that know,” she replies, “including me. Now, shall we find out what is happening at this facility?”

Chapter Text

Danny had been making out with a very naked, very horny, Isaac writhing on his lap when his phone flashed the message that an email had arrived. He was going to ignore it and return to working his tongue down Isaac’s throat as he worked three fingers into his ass. Then he noticed the email address it was from. The fake one that Carmichael Industries had been setup on the machine they had given Scott to use. The sender of this email was the bot that was running on that machine, and Carmichael Industries would be receiving an identical one any minute.

“Damn,” Danny cursed as he lifted a pouting Isaac off his lap. He grabbed his phone and quickly sent a text to Derek before heading to the computer in his room, he calls over his shoulder to Isaac, “Email; from Scott.”

Isaac rises from the floor where Danny set him down and rushes after his Dom, he jumps onto the bed and sits behind Danny as he opens the email and saves the compressed file. Trying to open it so that he can read the contents proves problematic. It’s not only compressed, but has been encrypted. While he has a copy of the compression algorithm he can’t decrypt the file. Getting their hands on the copy of the email has been for nothing, not unless he can find a key to the encryption.

An hour later there is a text from Derek, ‘Pack Meeting Loft Now’.


Raymond White is sitting going through the transcript of the interrogation. On the other side of the desk, each leg strapped to the front chair leg with heavy leather cuffs and each wrist cuffed and bound to the arms of the chair, is Christine Raines.

Her statements have been getting more and more frantic and bizarre. White is not convinced of her sanity; not that he was convinced she was sane to begin with, she came up with this project after all. The idea of creating a super-soldier by infecting them with virus to re-write the human DNA by switching part of the sequence with the genes from either an animal or supernatural being. Brainwashing them to ensure that they are submissive and will obey, removing any moral compass that they may have to ensure that they comply with their superiors, their ‘Masters’. It’s nothing more than trying to replicate her father’s project, but without knowing all the details.

She has failed, like her father did, but for very different reasons. She never knew how her father replicated the DNA to ‘grow’ the children he created. Dr William Raines artificially gestated augmented humans were exactly what they were supposed to be except for one detail. They knew right from wrong, they had a moral conscience. Two details. They had a moral conscience and were dominant enough to act on it.

Christine Raines may have based her viral serum on her father’s notes. She may have seen that the downfall was that his super-soldiers were not submissive enough to obey questionable orders. But she could never succeed in controlling the replication of the DNA sequences as he had. William Raines had access to technology his daughter never would. Technology her rogue NID paymasters know nothing about.

“So, Doctor Raines,” Raymond starts again, “why don’t you tell me where the human test subject that you have been keeping in the basement of your cabin now is? We’ve seen the evidence of their existence, they’ve done a lot of damage to the basement haven’t they, but your notes don’t say anything about who they are.”

You fool,” Raines screams back at him, “you don’t understand, they’re a danger to everyone, I need to expire them, they could kill someone; kill their family; kill the person they love.” She breaks down into uncontrolled weeping.

White closes over the folder of papers in front of him and stands. Picking up the folder he walks to the door and leaves her sitting there strapped to the chair, her head fallen forward as she cries. He taps on the door to signal for the guard outside to open it. Stepping out into the corridor he heads back to his rooms. She is wrong. He knows how dangerous the human subject is, they already attacked the family at the camp site, he knows they have to find them before they attack again during their next transformation.


Allison is scowling darkly at Derek across the living room in his loft.

She and Lydia had been driving to see the sheriff to ask about her father when the phone belonging to her sub, Jed, rang. It was Derek texting, ordering, Jed to ‘get to his loft immediately‘. It irritated her that Derek didn’t call and ask her to have Jed go to the loft. She had to accept that Derek was Jed’s Alpha. Jed didn’t want to be an omega any longer and needed a pack; but Derek should still respect the fact that she is Jed’s Dominant.

Danny and Isaac are sitting on the love seat, Peter is skulking in the far corner, and Derek and Stiles are looking over something on the desk.

“Master Gianni and his sub Chuck will be here soon,” Derek says looking up at them, “They are only expecting Stiles and I to be here, but Scott wanted his pack to help him save his Mate, and that is what we are going to do.”


Deaton wakes in a white room. He is cuffed to a chair, he’s grateful that at least he is still clothed. His head snaps up at the sound of the click-clack of heels striking the hard surface of the floor. General Diane Cole stops in front of him.

“Glad to have you back with us Alan,” her words coming from between her tight smile.

“Diane, it’s been a while,” his features are schooled into his normal neutral façade, “But, let’s not pretend that you’re still working with the people I have ever associated with. They would never allow Raines experiment to be restarted.”

“You know well enough why they wouldn’t,” she replies, “and you know why they need to. You know the threat that is out there.”

“That threat is non-existent,” he counters.

“They don’t know about you, about what you can do, and why you are the best hope of making this project work,” her voice is quiet as if whispering to keep a secret.

Deaton looks at her calculatingly, trying to decide if she is making a threat or not.

“I won’t help with something that I know to be wrong,” Deaton says firmly.

“Then I’ll need to let Scott McCall persuade you.” She turns and the sound of her heels are harsh as she marches towards the door.

Deaton is sure that Scott’s belief in doing what is right is all that protects him now. Scott will try to protect Matt and him, but if he can only protect one of them...

Diane Cole turns back to him. He raises an eyebrow in question.

“Just to let you know,” she smiles at him, “we have McCall’s other submissive, Jackson Whittemore.”

She turns from him and the door closes behind her.


Scott knows that he needs to release some of the tension that is building between Jackson and Matt. He needs to remind them that they had both accepted him as their Dominant; that they were his submissives. And he needs to show Jackson that no matter what... he was his Mate, he was the one that he was, and always would be, in love with.

The tension in the room had been worse since that General had ‘visited‘. He was picking up on the scent of anxiety from them. They were worried and nothing he did or said was helping. They needed to submit to him, and he needed to assert his dominance. They all needed the release that a scene would give them. Scott wasn’t sure how comfortable Jackson would be seeing him top Matt, or how Jackson would be submitting to him in front of Matt.

No, there was no way that either of them would be at ease to scene together, kneeling for him while he studied or checked on the tablet’s progress was one thing, but anything more just wasn’t going to work; not here. And he needed time alone with Jackson, he needed to reassure his Mate that he meant more to him than being his sub alone entailed.

The door to the room opened and the General was back, his two submissives flinched at his obvious anger as the General walked in. Scott saw the look that passed between Jackson and Matt, he’d seen that look the last time the General had been in the room too; just after she left.

“Mr McCall, it’s time for you to have a word with Dr Deaton,” her words caused Scott to react, the sharp sudden look he gave her as he caught her eye, and he knew she could tell he had been surprised. He hadn’t expected Deaton to be caught by them and he knew she could tell, the smug smile at her lips trying not to turn to a smirk.

He regained his composure, smiled back at her.

“Now?” he asks as unaffectedly as he can.

“Yes, now,” her sharp reply.

“If you’ll give me five minutes I’ll be right out.”


“I’m not leading my submissives around the complex naked, once I have them covered we’ll be right out,” he interrupts her retort.

“Five minutes,” she says, then turns and exists the room, closing the door behind her.

Scott scrambles around in his bag of laundry, he pulls out two pairs of boxer briefs that he has worn and throws them at Matt and Jackson, “Put these on.” At their less than happy look he scowls at them, “it’s the best I can do right now, unless you want me to lead you around in front of them naked?”

They hurriedly pull them on, but not before Scott noticed the lurch in Matt’s cock at the threat. And the blush creeping up Matt’s chest tells Scott that Matt knows he caught the reaction.

Scott then unclips the straps from the sports bags that he has his clothes in to use as make-shift leashes. One he clips to the D-ring in Jackson’s collar, grateful that he still has it, and the other he loops around Matt’s neck. Whispering his plan to Matt, knowing Jackson will hear, as he does so.

Leading his two submissives by the short temporary leashes he opens the door to the room.

“Show us the way General,” he smiles at the base commander as they step out and close the door behind them. Jackson and Matt walking just behind him with their hands clasped at their back, and eyes cast down like good a submissive should.


Raymond White is going through the latest decrypted documents, and he doesn’t like it.

How the hell had she managed to keep this hidden, how had she even gotten them in the base without anyone knowing?

Levels eleven and twelve were marked as storage, and the way that she had mentioned that in her audio logs, I’ve marked off levels eleven and twelve for ‘storage’, it had made him wonder why she’d say it that way unless there was something about what was being stored there. But he never expected this, never thought... she had set up a side project, ‘The Liberty Light‘, a series of shelters and soup kitchens, ‘Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me’. It promised to help those that entered through the doors, give them security and aid to get them back on their feet, a place to live, a job. She had rounded up street kids and the homeless, the vulnerable people that no-one would miss and stored them in sub-level eleven. She then used them as guinea pigs for the human trials, trials that were not even approved yet. When the results were not what she hoped for they were relocated to sub-level twelve, until they expired.

He’s sent a team to check on the cells on those levels now. They are not to enter the rooms, only to check if they are occupied. He’ll need to get more information on how many there are and the condition they are in.


Deaton looks up as the door to the cell opens. The click-clack of her heels echoing off the sterile walls. He isn’t surprised to see Scott follow in behind her, his sneakers making no noise compared to the General’s shoes, or the bare feet of his two submissives led by the leashes around their necks.

“Diane, back so soon?” Deaton asks, he sees from Scott’s wide eyes that Scott caught that he had used her name.

“Alan, I know I don’t need to introduce you to Mr McCall here,” Diane Cole smiles at him, “he’s going to have a little talk with you.” She turns to Scott, “Isn’t that right Mr McCall?”

“Absolutely,” Scott smiles at her, Deaton can tell that it isn’t one of his real smiles, it’s fake, too forced and sharp, “and then I’ll leave Matt here to keep him company while he reads through the documents on the project to help bring him up to speed before I talk to him again tomorrow.”

Deaton can see that Diane wasn’t expecting that, Scott has surprised her with something.


“Don’t worry,” Scott interrupts her, “I know what I am doing.”

Scott walks up to Deaton, lays a hand on the back of his neck as he captures his gaze.

“Doc, you wanna help me right? You know I would always do what I thought was best, what was right,” Scott smiles, “So, I want you to read all about this project, to know why they are doing what they are doing, and you need to listen to the words that Matt says when I leave him here with you as you go through the documents that the General will give you, so that you are ready for tomorrow.”

Deaton blinks a few times as Scott removes his hand and steps away from him.

“Is that it?” Diane asks Scott.

“It’s a start, a primer if you will,” Scott says, “to make sure he is ready for tomorrow. Now please remove the restraints holding him to the chair and pass him the documents he needs to read about the project.”

Deaton can see the difference. He knows how an influencer can manipulate people, eye contact, the tone and rhythm of their voice, touch. Scott made it look like he was using all three with him, but he wasn’t. There was no influence being pushed. With Diane however, he’s using his voice and eye contact to subtly push her to the actions he wants her to take.

There is the sharp click-clack of her heels as she strides to the door and orders one of the guards outside the room to have Mr White bring a grey folder down. She then turns and strides over to the chair Deaton is tied to as the remaining guards close the door. They wait in silence after she unties him for White to arrive. When he does she takes the folder from him and then he’s dismissed.

As Diane passes the folder to him Deaton hears Scott talking to Matt.

“You know what to do?” Scott asks, his hands petting Matt’s hair, and sliding down his back. The look of jealousy in Jackson’s eyes is clear, the arousal Matt feels at the attention evident in the boxer briefs he’s wearing.

“Yes, Master,” Matt starts then corrects himself, “Sir, I know what to do.”

“Good boy.”

Scott leaves the leather makeshift collar and leash around Matt’s neck.

“Shall we leave Deaton to his reading and Matt to his work?” Scott asks Diane.

Matt kneels beside the chair that Deaton is sitting in as Diane leads Scott and Jackson back out of the room. Matt is staring at the floor as he speaks.

“You need to read the folder Doctor,” Matt softly says, “Master... Scott will be here in the morning, and you need to be ready.”

Deaton stands up and walks over the pallet that passes for a bed. He throws the folder down on the bed before lying face down on it, propping himself on his elbows to look through the folder. Matt slipping up and calling Scott his Master seems unlikely, yet he’s done so twice. Looking around the room he can now see the camera in the corner behind the chair he had been on. He sees Matt looking at him, his face turned down and eyes looking up.

“Master will need you to be ready, Doctor,” Matt says.

Deaton returns his gaze to the folder in front of him. He’s sure that it is no slip on Matt’s part, and he plans on being ready for tomorrow.


Jackson is kneeling beside the chair that Scott is sitting in, Scott has a hand on the back of Jackson’s neck and is slowly rubbing his thumb in circles against his skin. They are in the General’s office and she is asking for an explanation. Why didn’t Scott force Deaton to help with the project? Why is he stalling?

“It’s simple General,” Scott calmly states, “If I just compel the Doc to do something that he wouldn’t normally do, something that is out of his character then he will know, it will be easier for him to fight against the suggestion.

Now, reminding him that I am unlikely to be doing something that I don’t believe is the right thing to do, getting him to read your documents about protecting the country, the greater good and all those... nice words. Then leaving Matt with him, showing that I trust him with one of my submissives, and letting Matt re-iterate the positive message we want him to have, and remind him that I’ll be back in the morning. That will work far better as he convinces himself that he believes that it is good idea to help you, rather than I persuaded him against his will to help you. Guiding him to make that decision for himself however gives him less to fight against.”

“You better be right,” the General snaps at him.

“It worked with Matt Daehler,” Scott coolly replies.

They are dismissed back to their room.


“We are not taking your entire pack into the facility,” Master Gianni forcefully states to Derek as he looks around the loft at the pack assembled there.

“Stiles and I are going in with Chuck,” Derek calmly replied, “Peter, Danny, Isaac and Jed will go in with your team, their priority will be to find the rest of our pack and get them out safely.”

“We’re going too,” Allison suddenly states, “you are not leaving Lydia and I behind, especially not if you are taking my sub in there.”

NO,” roars both the Master and Alpha. Allison is about to protest when Derek cuts her off.

“There will be no way for you or Lydia to get in. Stiles will be sealing the doorways so that no human can pass, so you will not be able to enter.”

“How will Stiles be making it so that only humans can’t pass the doorways to enter or leave when he is human?” Lydia asks.

“Deaton’s magic dust,” Stiles blurts out from beside Derek. All eyes fall on him and he suddenly feels uncomfortable, “I don’t know exactly, there’s this ash, and it’s not like normal mountain ash, and I’m to be the spark.”

“You will be fine,” Derek says laying a hand comfortingly on the back of Stiles’ neck, “I know you can do this, and I will be there with you.”

“Huh, guys, transport is on the way and will be here soon,” Chuck interjects, “If everyone is going I need to arrange another chopper to meet us at the rendezvous point.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, while looking at Master Gianni, in reply.

“Make the arrangement Chuck while I go over the layout of the facility,” Master Gianni states, his tone and expression making it clear he is not happy about it.


Scott leans in close as he unclips the leash from Jackson’s collar. He sharply inhales his scent and the low pleased growl escapes from his lips.

“Someone was happy to be led around by their collar,” his words ghosting over Jackson’s skin, causing him to shiver in anticipation of something more.

“Sir,” his words no more than a sigh as he stands waiting for whatever his Dom, his Mate, decides.

“Tell me what you want Jackson,” Scott murmurs into the shell of his ear, “what do you want me to do to you?”

Jackson whimpers at his Doms words, trying to form words, trying to decide what he wants.

“Sir, please,” Jackson pleads, near trembling as Scott crowds in close against his back, “please...”

“Please what, Jackson?” Scott breathes against his skin, “Do you me to spank you? I know you like going over my knee. Do you want me to tie you to the bed and eat out your ass before I sink my cock deep inside you and fuck you hard until my knot swells in you, until I tie to you and breed you? You like it when we’re tied together like that. I’ve got the tawse in my bag Jackson, and the pin-wheel. Tell me what you want, what you need.”

Jackson’s is hard, the front of his Dom’s boxer-briefs that he is wearing tenting out and stained. Every murmured word at his ear sending a jolt to his cock as Scott’s low growly voice flamed Jackson’s fantasies and desires. He wants his Dom, his Mate, and it doesn’t matter how Scott uses him as long as he does.

“Scott, Sir, please,” Jackson whines, “please sir, whatever you want of me, use me how you need, spank me with your hand, with the tawse, tie me down and fuck me, whatever you want of me sir, please, Scott.”

“Strip!” Scott’s needful growl making Jackson hastily pull the boxers down over his straining erection.

Jackson is spread out on the bed. His arms stretched out to the corners; he isn’t tied to the bed, but has been told to hold the position and not move. He is trying to obey as Scott alternates between smacking Jackson’s ass with his palm, thrusting his tongue deeply past the puckered flesh of Jackson’s hole, and striking his ass with the leather tawse.

The maddening assault on Jackson’s ass continued, hand, tawse, tongue, tawse, tongue, hand, hand, tongue, tawse, tawse, hand, tongue, tongue, tawse, hand. His claws pierced through the bedding as he pushed his ass back to meet whatever his Dominant wanted to give him, his cock hard and needy as it throbbed against his abdomen.

“Sir, Mate, Scott, please,” Jackson desperately begs, “Please fuck me SIR.”

Scott stands back to admire the red heat of Jackson’s ass, his own eyes a warm amber glow to Jackson’s cool blue. Scott quickly strips, his clothes thrown recklessly about the room in his haste.

Jackson grips the bed sheets tightly as another smack of Scott’s hand lands on his reddening ass, then moans as Scott’s tongue licks a cool strip along the cleft of his ass before burrowing inside him. Scott’s tongue wriggles its way inside, laving the inner walls with his saliva before slowly retreating. Scott holds the cheeks of Jackson’s ass apart as he begins a rapid thrusting and withdrawal of his tongue against the ring of muscle, fucking Jackson’s ass with it then licking broad strokes along his perineum and over the puckered flesh to his coccyx.

With Jackson splayed open before him Scott could no-longer hold back from plunging his steel hard length as deep into his mate’s licked open hole. He swiftly coated his shaft with lube before sliding the entire length in one long hard push. His thrusts were fast and furious driven by his lust and passion for the submissive under him. The bond between them opening and their emotions merged and fed each other’s. Scott could feel Jackson’s anxiety, his worry about belonging and being with Scott ebb away as it was washed over by Scott’s desire, need and love for him.

As their passion for each other burned in the bond between them Scott’s knot quickly swelled and locked them together. Scott’s thrusts becoming short sharp thrusts, his hand slick with lube quickly grasping Jackson’s own long ignored hardness. With his own orgasm fast approaching Scott’s hand rapidly fisted Jackson’s length to bring them both together, Jackson spilling over the sheets as Scott filled him.

Spooning under the covers of the bed Scott is still tied to his Jackson as they wait for the knot to subside. The bond is still broadcasting each other’s emotions back and forth along the link. Jackson can feel how strong Scott’s affections for him are, he leans back against his Mate.

“I’ll try to get along with Matt better than I have,” Jackson quietly says.

“I’ll find another Dominant for him, someone else to help him get better...” Scott starts to say.

“No,” Jackson interrupts, “I know you’re trying to help him, and that I don’t have any reason to feel threatened by him. I’m your Mate, and his being your submissive doesn’t change that. As your Mate I should try to help you, you’re trying to do the right thing by him and I should help. So I’ll try.”

Scott kisses the back of Jackson’s neck, just below his collar.

“Thank you,” Scott whispers against his skin, “You’re such a good boy.”


How could he have been so stupid?

Raymond White looks over the papers again. Yes, she really did.

Christine Raines is infected with the viral serum. She was bitten and scratched and her serum had already mutated to be a contagion passed through open wounds. She hasn’t been carrying out further human testing at her cabin, she is the mountain lion that attacked the family out there. Every month, roughly, she has taken trip to her family cabin and stayed there for three days. This is more dangerous than anyone knows.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Sir, I think you need to come see what we have found on level twelve,” the private says looking a little green at the thought.

Levels eleven and twelve have the same number of cells as level ten, twenty-five spread out along each curved wall. What Christine Raines had... stored... the men and women... the bodies found in each and every one of the cells, the stench of waste and rotting flesh, the human bones snapped and chewed at.

Two of the cells contained still transformed people, two were mountain lions and two were wolves. In three of the cells amongst the remains of their victims were people traumatised by what they had done, one of them was a young boy of at most sixteen. On level twelve they found the remains of Sarah Marshall’s mother and the body of her father. He had clearly died during the stress of the transformation back to human from, judging by the partially transformed body, a wolf.

Raines had said in her journal that Sarah’s parents were still questioning her about her disappearance, that they thought she still knew something and that she was going to have to deal with them eventually. But this? Given the date of the journal entry he couldn’t have been given the serum more than a six weeks ago, this had to have been his first transformation. His age and health issues making it impossible for him to survive.

White turns to the marines with him.

“Get the ones that are alive into isolation chambers on level ten, there are enough of them that are empty for the number of people here. Each body in these cells is to be incinerated. Make sure there is nothing but ash left.”

“Yes Sir.”

He turns and head back to level nine, he needs to talk with the General. Damage limitation is going to be needed before those in NID responsible for this decide to use the same ‘scorched earth‘ policy they carried out on Raines’ father’s project.


Getting into the base was easy. Well at least Chris was finding it easy, maybe it was because he was with a succubus who could sway the guards and ensure that they didn’t pay too much attention to the papers and identification that you are showing them.

They were going to have more trouble working their way through the base to find out where Gerard was. Rebecaah was looking tired.

“I’ve used a little too much power,” she informs Chris, “I need to rest and replenish.”

“We, and I mean the two guys whose passes we are using, were assigned rooms on the fifth level,” Chris gruffly states, “we can stop there safely enough. How...”

“Don’t worry,” Rebeccah purrs at him, “I’ll find someone to help me recuperate; it won’t be you.”

They make their way down to the fifth level easily enough, the rooms they have assigned are next to each other. But as Chris unlocks his he looks down the corridor and sees Rebecaah slide her hand down a young marines back as she follows him into his room.

Chapter Text

Stiles was standing behind Derek as he and Chuck are talking to the marines on guard at the entrance to the base. He was admiring the way the uniform pants clung to Derek’s ass and was wondering of Master di Marco and Chuck would notice if they didn’t get Derek’s and his uniforms back.

“Your rooms are on sub-level five.”

The voice of one of the guards snapped him out of his reverie and he jumped to follow Derek and Chuck through the doors into the base. After the doors have closed behind him he spreads a line of the mountain ash across the entrance. It isn’t the Rowan mountain ash that werewolves and other supernaturals would have an issue crossing, it’s Tasmanian Oak. This, Deaton says, normal humans will not be able to cross. Stiles keeps repeating his mantra as he spreads the ash around, ‘imagination is more important than knowledge‘. It worked when he put the circle around the rave building, but it’s not like he has had any other occasions to do this. But Derek believes in him, is counting on him, and Stiles insisted that he gets to help with protecting the pack, so, he will be the spark. When he finishes the line of ash he pushes his hand out searching for the barrier it should have built.

“I don’t think it worked,” Stiles says as he turns to face Derek and Chuck, his hand crossing over the line of ash.

Chuck walks up and tries to push his hand over the line of ash. He can’t, leaning all his weight as if he was pushing against a wall and he cannot cross it.

“I think it worked,” he says smiling as he turns to Stiles.

Why can I...” Stiles starts to ask.

“We’ll figure that out later,” Derek calmly states as he places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “let’s stick to the plan for now.”

They work their way around the level. Stiles blocks all the doors with the ash, he covers the doorways to the stairwells, and finally he places a circle of ash around the elevator. Well after Chuck has gone inside; it still freaks Stiles out that he can cross the ash that is intended to stop humans crossing, and does stop Chuck.

They head down to the next level.


General Diane Cole is looking over the report on her desk. It contains the details of White’s findings, of the actions he’s taken on sub levels twelve and eleven. The details of exactly what Dr Christine Raines has been up to. And all of it is going to come back on her when the oversight committee finds out; she is the ranking commander on the base, it was her responsibility to know what the personnel under her were doing. The people she reports to are going to make sure that no-one can find out that anything happened here; they can’t afford for the top brass at Fort Meade or at Langley to find out that a banned project was restarted. She can’t afford for this project to fail.

“Options, Mr White,” she sharply voices.

“That depends on what you’re looking for options for,” he calmly replies belying his nervousness, he needs to find a way to get his report out to Langley.

“We need this project to succeed, with or without Raines,” Cole’s voice is strained as she tries to control her frustration, the look in her eye suggesting she has decided on a course of action, “Bring McCall junior to Deaton’s cell.”


Scott and Jackson both wake with a start.

They can both feel it, that taut pull of the pack bond; their Alpha is here.

The door to the room opens as Scott finishes dressing, Raymond White walks in. He looks around the room and his eyes fall on the Carmichael Industries tablet briefly before continuing until his gaze finds Scott, it’s only then that his calculating look changes to a smile.

“The General sent me to let you know that she is waiting for you with Doctor Deaton,” White’s smile never falters while he is speaking to Scott.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Scott replies to him, “please wait outside.”

Raymond White had turned and was about to leave the room when he realised what he was doing. He had intended to get a hold of the tablet and use it to get a message out to his handlers; he’s assuming that the tablet will be like the other Carmichael Industries tablets that he knows of with their own built-in connection to their own communications network.

He’s been wanting the opportunity to make contact with Scott McCall since he arrived and this maybe his only chance. He turns back into the room.

“Did Master di Marco or his sub give you the Carmichael Industries tablet?” White asks. He suddenly finds himself slammed into the nearest wall, Scott’s forearm over his throat and his hands trapped behind his back as his body is held in place as Scott stares into his eyes. Scott has more strength and speed than he expected and White could sear he saw a tinge of red and amber flash across Scott’s irises. It’s then that White realises, Scott is a werewolf just like his submissive Jackson.

“I’m working on the same side as they are,” White hoarsely forces out from the crushing weight on his windpipe.

“Why should I trust you?” Scott asks easing the pressure he’s applying across White’s neck.

“I’m sure you can listen to my heartbeat and tell,” White says a little calmer than before, “isn’t that what you people do?” From the look in Scott’s eyes, and the growl coming from Jackson his sub, White begins to think that may have been the wrong thing to say, he quickly adds, “Listen to my heartbeat, I am working undercover to expose those behind the project I am on the same side as di Marco, I just work for a different agency.”

Scott is sure that White is telling the truth, but he still doesn’t trust him fully. There is something about the man that makes him uneasy, and normally it’s Stiles that gets that ‘there’s just something about them‘ feeling.

“So, if you recognised the tablet why are you only telling me about you being a good guy now?” Scott growls out his question in an attempt to intimidate him. Scott can hear White’s heartbeat increase, and smell the change in his scent.

“Because the place has been locked down, and even when I was out of the base investigating Raines cabin I was surrounded by the NID operatives from the base,” White quickly answers, “I haven’t been able to report back to Langley.”

“Who’s Langley?” Scott asks, confusion written across his face.

“I think he meant Langley, Virginia, Sir,” Jackson says from behind Scott, “The CIA headquarters are based there.”

“Oh,” Scott says, his attention returning from his sub to White, “that’s who you work for?”

“Yes,” White replies, “I’d like to use the tablet to contact Langley and let them know what is going on here, that way they can send in an extraction team.”

“We should head Deaton’s cell,” Scott says seemingly ignoring White’s request before continuing, “Before the General sends someone else to get us. We can look at sending your message after we get back to this room.” Scott doesn’t expect that to happen, with Derek is here the rest of the pack must be close too; and Master di Marco and his extraction team. Not that Scott is telling White any of that.

“I could use the tablet while you’re with the General,” White counters Scott’s assertion, “it would...”

“I’ll need to be here,” Scott cuts White’s argument off before he finishes, “it needs to scan my eye before it will allow a connection to send anything.”

With that they head out of the room, White leading the way as Jackson follows behind Scott.


Chris and Rebeccah had made their way down to sub-level ten.

They had been able to uncover that this was the level that the ‘subjects of interest‘ were held. Luckily Rebeccah had been able to persuade the marine she had recuperated with to explain a lot about the base and how it worked. They had been able to acquire a pass that allowed access to the lowest levels. Not that there was any reason it appeared to go down to levels eleven and twelve as they were currently cleared and each cell incinerated to destroy any viral contaminant.

The control room on level nine only had two marines manning it, Rebeccah managed to easily subdue them. The marines were very co-operative and answered anything that Rebeccah asked. From inside the room Chris and Rebeccah were able to see that this monitored every room on level nine, and that they were able to see what was happening on the levels below it. This room controlled the doors to each cell on the lower levels, it also controlled the level of current the implant in each of the ‘subjects of interest’ generated. Each implant could be controlled independently; the level of electric current that the implant delivered set as desired for that individual.

The lowest two levels were a firestorm, guards in heavy flame resistant suits and hoods walking through the corridors painting the inside of each room in destructive fire.

Level ten was virtually empty, there were marines outside one cell with a General standing impatiently with them waiting for someone. There were pairs of marines taking food into other cells.

Chris and Rebeccah would need to wait until the corridors outside the cells of level ten were clear before making their way down there to the one containing Gerard.


Boyd feels it immediately, the current that had been constant from the implant in the back of his neck just stops. The gasp from the kid lying on him tells him that his implant must have stopped too.

“The tingling stopped,” the kid says, his voice full of surprise and apprehension.

“Mine too,” Boyd replies as he runs a comforting hand down his back, “Something is up, my Alpha is here, and other members of my pack. I can feel them clearly now.”

“Are they here to free us, or are they captured too?”

“I don’t know.”


Derek, Chuck and Stiles are making good progress down the levels until they get to level eight. This is the first level they meet resistance.

Before Stiles has completed the barrier of ash on the first door it opens and technician opens it from the other side.

“What are you doing?” he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

Derek punches him in the face knocking him back into the room. Unfortunately there are four marines in the room who come barrelling out over the incomplete line of ash.

Derek shifts to his beta form. He grabs one of the marines and throws him against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor.

Chuck rounds on another marine with a flying kick, knocking him unconscious.

Stiles momentarily panics as he throws the ash in his hand along the corridor at the other doors on the side he was working along willing the barrier to form. As the doors open the marines and technicians on the other side find themselves trapped behind a line of ash on the ground.

I did it!“ Stiles exclaims in jubilation, “Oh. My. God. I really did it!

Only for some of the doors on the other side of the wide corridor to open and more marines to come running towards them drawing their side-arms just as Derek and Chuck knock the last two out. Stiles, Derek and Chuck run for the elevator. As Chuck dives inside Stiles throws the ash willing the circle to form as he and Derek run in behind Chuck. A bullet whizzes past Derek’s ear into the elevator wall behind just as the door closes and Chuck uses the pass they have to descend to level nine.

“I didn’t block the stairwell with the ash,” Stiles despondently states.

“Don’t worry,” Derek says as an alarm sounds throughout the base, “Our pack is here, and di Marco and his team will be with them.”


The door of every cell on level ten opens at the same time. Both the inner and outer door of the entrance to the cells. Inside they could now here the alarm sounding.

Boyd and the kid edge towards the door.

“Hey kid,” Boyd whispers, “I can’t keep calling you ‘kid‘, what’s your name?”

“Leandro Santos,” he smiles back at Boyd.

As they do Boyd catches the scent in the air.

“Wolfsbane,” he hisses, his brow furrowed at the other scent with it, “And mint?

“Catmint,” Leandro says, “Or you might know it as catnip.”

They exit into the main corridor to see two mountain lions stalking up the stairs across the other side of the corridor from them.

Beside the elevator in the centre of the corridor a marine is held in the grasp of a naked man who has bitten deep into the marine’s neck and is drinking his blood. He lets the marine fall to the ground, drained.

“First decent meal I’ve had since I got here,” he smirks as he digs his fingers into the back of his neck and pulls the implant out. The wound heals rapidly as he turns his black eyes on Boyd and Leandro.

“A leech,” Leandro hisses.

At the far end of the corridor a hacking cough catches the attention of them all. Boyd can’t contain the hateful growl that rumbles from him at the sight of a naked Gerard Argent as he stands at the door of one of the cells coughing up the black blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

Deaton and Matt emerge from a door on the other side of the elevator.

“I think it would be in all our interests to make out way up the stairwell,” the calm well measured voice of Deaton grasps their attention from Gerard, “if you check the marine’s pockets for his pass we will need it to get through the doors,” he states to the vampire standing over the marine’s body.

As they head up the flight of stairs that the cats didn’t take the sound if fighting and gunfire can be heard from above. Before reaching the main corridor they pass a set of double-doors, looking through the glass panels on the top half of the doors Erica can be seen laid out on a steel table.

Erica,“ Boyd shouts as he runs into the room, “No, no, no,” he sobs as he finds her body lifeless and in the process of being dissected. Boyd howls his loss and distress, fully shifting as his eyes shift, his claws and fangs extend. Boyd turns to the door, the need for vengeance burning bright in the molten amber of his eyes.

As they force their way into the main corridor area they see Stiles back-flip away from one marine and with a sweeping kick he takes the legs out from under another, stopping him from taking his shot at Derek.

Danny is blocking the attacks of two marines, their weapons lying discarded on the floor. With two swift punches he knocks them out and they fall to the floor.

Isaac is dodging the bullets from shots being taken by a marine near where Boyd is emerging through the doors, Boyd charges to the marine snatching the gun from his grasp with one hand and tossing him across the room with the other.

There are two technicians and marine being mauled by a cougar and two wolves. Through the smashed door of one of the interrogation rooms they see Christine Raines throat is being ripped out by the other cougar.

Deaton tries to signal to Stiles to create another barrier of the ash to hold the marines and technicians on this floor to allow the pack to escape; but Stiles is totally focused on the fighting he is engaged in. He is throwing marines to the ground, high kicking and round kicking them to the floor, blocking their throws and attacks as if he has always done so. Derek is becoming increasingly distracted and worried by Stiles’ actions.

A shot aimed at Derek misses him as he ducks low trying to get to Stiles, the bullet strikes Gerard between the eyes as he kept himself back against the wall near the door they had entered through.

General Cole is lying in a pool of her own blood, felled by two shots to the chest from the 9mm Beretta semi-automatic pistols in Chris Argent’s hands. Her own weapon lying under her body; he was a faster shot than she was.

Boyd sees a marine taking aim at Leandro, he moves putting himself between the kid and the marine, trying to charge towards the marine before he shoots. He doesn’t make it; the wolfsbane laced shot hitting his heart, and the poison quickly working through him.

NO!” Leandro cries out running to Boyd.

The marine’s next shot finding Leandro and he collapses on top of Boyd’s body.

Master di Marco and the remainder of his team make their final push into the cavernous corridor, each of his team is a werecat of one kind or another and all are in their equivalent to a werewolves beta form. Their teeth and claws elongated, their eyes the myriad blues, ambers and greens of each type of cat that they partly are.

With speed and agility they begin to overrun the covert NID marines of the base.

Rick McCall can see the marine aiming at Scott. He doesn’t think twice as he places himself between Scott and the bullet. As the blood spreads across his shirt, darkening the blue to black, he falls back against his son and looks up into his red-rimmed amber eyes and the light fades from his own. Scott seems lost and frozen in place at the death of the man he hated for the way he treated his mother, and doesn’t notice as the marine prepares to fire again. Stiles rushes at the marine and knocks him unconscious with a punch to the face.

The fight comes to an end as Jackson throws the last NID marine to back against the wall. The marine still does not give up and raises his gun to fire.

“NO,” Matt yells in warning as he leaps between the marine and Jackson.

Chuck knocks the marine out, but he has already pulled the trigger and Matt crumples to the ground. Jackson rushes to Matt’s side, his hands pressing against the wound to try and stem the bleeding. He’s begging Matt to hold on, to stay with him. Telling him over and over that he has already told Scott that he is willing for both of them to wear Scott’s collar; that he will try to put the past behind them, and that Matt just needs to hold on.

“You can’t Jackson,” Matt says, his voice no more than a whisper, “After what I did, what I made you do, it’s too much to expect. No matter how much I want it.”

The blood flow doesn’t stop, it doesn’t slow. As Matt falls silent and his breathing slows, his eyes close over.

During the fight Derek felt the loss of Pack. As he kneels beside Boyd, and the boy fallen over his back that he was trying to save, he feels it more keenly. Derek can’t contain the tears that start to fall as Stiles stands behind him, his hand resting on Derek’s shoulder as he too feels his Mate’s pain.

Scott is by Jackson and Matt’s side, one hand on Jackson’s shoulder the other holding one of Matt’s hands. He remembers the conversation with Isaac in Danny’s hospital room after the Kanima attack at the club, recalls how Isaac had healed Danny’s wounds that had been inflicted by Derek.

“Isaac,” Scott shouts, “Can you do for Matt what you did for Danny?”

Isaac looks fearfully at Scott. He’d hoped that Scott had forgotten the incident, that he could do more than take someone’s pain away.

“I can try,” Isaac replies seeing the earnest look in Scott’s eyes and ignoring the confusion on everyone else’s, “His injury is more than I have tried to heal before.”

“Please,” Scott pleads, “just try.”

Isaac’s hands replace Jackson’s over the wound. Matt’s breath so shallow and the loss of blood so great. Isaac pushes all his power down through his hands and the wound closes over, but every werewolf hears the beat of Matt’s heart stop.

Scott pulls Jackson into his arms, comforting his Mate.

The roar emitted from Matt’s shifted body pulls the attention back to where he now sits. His eyes a shining golden amber split with the vertical pupil. His face and back covered with short orange and black stripped fur, and the coarse white fur down his chest and belly.


Lydia Martin screamed.

She ignored the fact that she had been able to cross the line of ash that Allison couldn’t. Everyone was taking too long. She knew the fighting was over. On every level of the base she could see that Master di Marco’s men were rounding the people up and locking them in irons as she worked her way down the flights of stairs.

Then she saw Derek kneeling, and crying, and she screamed.

The were-creatures covered their ears in pain, the humans squirmed under the shrillness of the noise. The werecats carrying the body-bag lost their grip and Erica’s body fell on the floor. Lydia’s scream increased in volume.

She is silent now. She is standing under the trees. This is the second time she has worn the black dress, shoes, glove and hat. They look good against her pale skin and the red of her hair. She places the single white Calla Lily in front of the gravestone.

“Goodbye Boyd.”

She had placed a similar one beside Erica’s grave the day before.


Allison carded her fingers through her kneeling submissive’s hair. He was still trying to come to terms with the revelation that his half-sister was not human, that she is a succubus, or more accurately a half-succubus.

The werewolf leaned into her touch, resting his head in her lap.

“I guess it’s why she was able to accept me so easily,” he quietly voices.

“Probably, being who and what she is she would know being non-human doesn’t make you evil.” Allison replies, “My dad says that she only used her abilities to help protect him and the others that the facility had kidnapped.” She didn’t add that her father still didn’t trust her, or Jed and his pack. Not fully, not yet, but Allison was confident it was only a matter of time.

“Hmm,” is his noncommittal reply.

Allison has her own thoughts to work through. Back at the base her best friend had walked over a line of ash that a normal human shouldn’t have been able to cross. No-one has been able to tell Lydia what she is yet, she knows and they know that she isnt human. They’ve known that since she survived Peter’s bite, but none of them can tell her what kind of nonhuman she is.


As the rope slides over his skin, following the caress of John’s hand as he binds it tightly, Chris can’t hold the moan that slips from between his lips. He needs this. He needs the grounding and feeling of belonging and safety that he gets from submitting to the Dom.

Chris’s arms are bound behind his back. The rope rough and tight around his wrists, then drawn up along his front. The caress of it wrapped around his arms and upper chest. The rope cutting in under his pectoral muscles, almost biting but not quite, never too tight.

John rings Chris’s hard cock with another length of rope, wrapping it around his sack pushing his balls tightly down. The rope pushing his cock and balls out obscenely from his body. Hard and angry red as his need drips from the tip.

“Kneel,” John commands. Chris falls to his knees, spit falling from his mouth held open by the O-ring gag. John runs his fingers across Chris’s lips, through the saliva falling from his mouth. Two fingers push in through the ring of metal and over Chris’s tongue.

“Don’t worry,” John says looking down at him, “I’m going to use your hot wet mouth.”

And he does.


Melissa had a lot to think about.

Peter Hale had formally asked her to consider submitting to him. And she really wasn’t sure she was ready. Before Rick showed up she is sure that she wouldn’t have had to think twice, she would have said yes in an instant.

Now, now she remembers how he was, how he made her feel and the fear he instilled in her. She trusted Peter, Scott had trusted him enough to ask him to check that she was okay, but she thought she could trust Rick, she had trusted Rick enough to accept his collar, and then... well, even Peter has now had a little experience of what she endured.

What it all comes down to is that she doesn’t trust her own judgement, she doesn’t know if she can allow herself to trust Peter enough to submit to him. No matter how appealing the thought of submitting to him is.


Danny is going to have to talk to Derek.

Desperately needs to talk to Derek as soon as he and Stiles are back from LA.

It’s the sixth time in the last four weeks that he has had one of those dreams, and he is so loosing focus because of them that it’s affecting his ability to satisfy Isaac. He couldn’t stop the growl he aimed at Isaac when his sub asked ‘if it would help if he spanked him or something‘.

The dreams haven’t all been the same. The only common element now is that mostly it is both him and Isaac submitting to Derek. In some of them it is Derek and Stiles they are submitting to, Isaac suggested that could be because their wolves would recognise Stiles as their Alpha’s Mate. Which made sense to Danny.

But the thought of submitting to his former submissive only fuelled his humiliation.

The last dream had Isaac lying underneath Danny in a sixty-nine, while they sucked on each other’s hard shafts Derek was plunging deep into him, Danny could feel the burn with each thrust and pull of Derek’s thick cock, and Stiles was jack-hammering in and out of Isaac.

Danny woke with a shout as he came over his abs, sticking the sheet to him.

He definitely needs to talk to Derek.


“If you don’t calm down I’m going to have to start calling you Tigger,” Jackson teases him.

Matt whirls round and scowls at him.

“That’s not funny!” Matt all but pouts, “It’s been a month, and I don’t smell right anymore. There is none of our Doms scent, or yours, on me anymore. I smell more like Master di Marco.”

“Well you did become a pussy cat, and he was the only one that our Dom would let train you how to control your...” Jackson is cut-off before he can finish.

“Don’t you dare Jackson!” Matt warns him.

“Fearsome pussy powers, “ Jackson says with a smirk, at Matt’s deepening scowl adding, “Well... what else would you call your cat abilities and transformations,” Jackson laughs. One pussy comment was probably more than enough. For now.

They are both naked in Scott’s bedroom. Scott is just back from Deaton’s clinic and is in the shower. Jackson takes one of Matt’s hands and pulls him over to the bed; they were naked together while they were held in that place, he can do this.

He pulls Matt onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around him in an embrace. He still has issues about this, but his worries aren’t as intense. Jackson has had their Dom to himself for the past month. A month of being used by Scott and shown just how much he loves and wants him, being fucked and knotted by Scott and then fucking and knotting Scott. The bite of the clamps in his nipples and the feel of the flogger over his back. Jackson has loved every pleasurably painful minute of it.

As he noses at Matt’s neck, breathing in deeply, the low displeased grumbling growl Jackson makes surprises him.

“You do smell wrong,” Jackson blurts out, “I want to lick that scent off you, and to cover you in Scott’s and mine.”

“Well then you can start by licking out his asshole,” the voice of Jackson’s Mate, of their Dom, startles both of them. Scott is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, naked and hard.

“You are gonna fuck Matt, and while you are fucking him I am gonna fuck you,” Scott grins at them, “then when you are both filled with a load of come I am gonna put these plugs in you. We’ll get something to eat, maybe go out to that new pizza place, then come back here and open up the toy box.”

The deep blush and grins of both his subs lets Scott know they both like the idea.


“Four weeks Derek, Sir,” Stiles complains as Derek, turning off the radio, parks the Toyota in the basement car-park of the apartment building they miss the news report of another attack by big cats in southern California, “We were in LA for four weeks while Master di Marco and Chuck had every test they could think of run on me. No ‘Morgan’ effect. And seriously what was wrong with Morgan, he seemed like a really nice guy to me. But that’s off-topic, No ‘Morgan’ Effect. I know kung-fu dude.”

“Shut-up, and don’t call me dude,” Derek snaps at him.

Stiles shuts up and drops his head down. Derek sighs, knowing he has upset his Mate. He looks over at him and cupping his hand under Stiles’ chin brings his head up to look at him.

“Now that we know that it’s safe for you to use that information planted in your head, how about we practice together, see how you defend yourself against a werewolf, hmm?” Derek asks.

“Seriously?” Stiles asks him, at Derek’s nod Stiles grin splits across his face, “awesome Sir.”

They make their way up to the loft and the joking and laughing between them stops when they reach the door. There is a mark painted across the door, a swastika-like spiral pattern.

“You have a problem with urban alchemists in this neighbourhood, Derek?” Stiles asks laughing. His laugh stops when he notices Derek’s deep frown, and feels the worry leaking through their bond.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, now full of worry himself.

“It’s the symbol for the Alpha Pack,” Derek growls.

“A literal pack of Alpha Werewolves?” Stiles asks, “That can’t be good.”