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Liam lands another punch on Theo’s jaw and Theo stumbles back, pain flaring up as he exhales sharply. He growls a little, body aching and animals inside of him thrashing in response, but he refuses to give in, refuses to give up.
It’s almost been an hour of this, this never-ending back and forth, this push and pull. And Liam’s always been a little stronger than Theo, has that added benefit of being an actual werewolf, but Theo can’t give into that, can’t admit defeat. His fangs jut out when he snarls quietly and rolls his head back, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar burn settles in.
(It’s an agonizing side effect, one that the Dread Doctors hadn’t foreseen in spite of their meticulous planning, but even the supernatural world has its rules, and they broke more than enough with their parascience experiments on Theo.
Not only putting one animal inside him synthetically, but two. But obviously the Dread Doctors didn’t give a fuck if the shift hurt Theo, had only told him to learn how to hide it so it didn’t cause any complications. So it didn't take away from the agenda they'd already written out for Theo.
And so Theo had.
He’d ignored the sharp stab in his head every time he dug deep and forced his shift out, ignored the needles in his hands as his claws elongated, ignored the feeling of his skin being torn open as his fangs came out and the hair on his face grew. Ignored it until it all became intimately familiar.
And he continued to suck it up and ignore it when he came back to Beacon Hills, knew that if he wanted to prove that he was a true werewolf to the pack, he needed to look the part.
But all of that came crashing down as he went crashing down. And coming back up after, Theo didn’t need to look the part anymore, didn’t need to keep up that pretense. Didn’t need to when everyone already knew that he was just a fucked up replica of what they were.
So maybe growing hair on his face wasn’t necessary anymore, but the shift still very much was.
And Theo’s long since accepted that there’s no way to get rid of the pain associated with that.)
His body moves without him really thinking about it, fist clenching tight as he lunges forward and aims for the beta’s exposed left side. But it’s a split-second too slow, the movement too predictable, and Liam side-steps easily, pivoting on his back foot as he grabs Theo’s shoulders and knocks him down onto the ground.
Theo lands hard on his back, breath flying out of his lungs as Liam follows him down—Theo’s a little taken aback by how graceful the beta makes it look—and pins him down with claws pricking at his side and against one of his wrists. Liam’s legs straddle his stomach, squeezing in with his knees against his ribs and Theo’s eyes flash as Liam’s flare gold victoriously.
It would be all too easy for Liam to sink his claws into Theo’s skin and that realization that hits Theo every time he’s in this position—because it’s not the first time, and he knows it won’t be the last—leaves him even more breathless than he already is. Leaves him scrambling for control that he knows he doesn’t have.
And there’s an inkling of a particularly daunting truth whispering at the back of Theo’s mind at the same time, something that he’s forced himself not to entertain, in fear of allowing it to make a permanent home out of Theo’s mind. Of Theo’s heart.
But it continues to prod at him, as unyielding as the claws against his at present unguarded body, continues to poke at the still unhealed scratches from the fight on his skin, at the already healed scars that he almost wishes weren’t healed.
And the beta’s obviously a major contributing factor to the reason why Theo’s struggling to breathe—given the fact that he’s pinning him down— but it’s more than that, and as much as Theo doesn’t want to think about it, he already is.
Liam with his little-too-long hair—though Theo thinks it somehow suits him anyway—messily framing his face as he leans over Theo. With his shirt clinging to his body, drops of sweat rolling down the side of his face. With his chest heaving from all the exertion, although Theo can tell the beta’s nowhere as strained as he is. With his lips curled up slightly in a faint smirk, one that Theo’s grown all too accustomed to nowadays, one that leaves him desperately wanting to trace the delicate curve of it with the tips of his fingers, trace it with his lips.
Liam with his gold eyes that are slowly seeping back into blue, a shade of blue that Theo’s unwittingly memorized. With his fangs protruding out from his mouth, but he’s not fully shifted, rarely ever fully shifts when they spar like this. And Theo’s past experiences with the shift be damned, there’s something about Liam’s shift that radiates a sort of beauty that he can’t put into words.
(It radiates a sort of strength too.
One that Theo knows he can’t replicate, no matter how many experiments the Dread Doctors did on him, no matter how many things they’ve changed in his body that he’s not even fully aware of. His shift’s always drawn on his weakness, has always relied on the fact that without it, he’s powerless.
But Liam’s doesn’t and it’s all too clear to Theo. All too evident in how effortless it is, in how Liam never seems to have to tilt his head back when he shifts.
And during the nights when his nightmares are particularly vicious, the nights when he lies awake staring up but not seeing anything that’s actually above him, Theo lets himself wonder what that’s like.)
Liam’s pointed nails sting his skin as the beta pushes them in a little again and Theo tenses, knows from experience the words that follow that action.
“You good?” Liam pants out, his exhale splaying across Theo’s face with how close they are, and Theo’s said yes too many times to count in the last hour, thinks it might’ve been one too many, feels the way his body screams its answer to the question.
But truth be told, he knows he could say yes again, could ignore the dull ache in his bones and the biting pain in his head like he’s done for nearly a decade now. He could gather all his remaining strength—which is, conspicuously, not a lot—and somehow find a way to flip them over as a sign of agreement before standing up and doing it all over again. He could keep fighting, he knows he could, he swears he could.
But god, he doesn’t want to.
For once in his fucking life, he wants the option of not fighting. Wants to listen to his aching body, to the fatigue that’s infiltrated every crack in his skin and bones and lodged itself deep, to the years of agony built up inside of him.
(He’s never had the luxury of even considering that choice ever since he was taken.
It’s always been keep going or be declared a failure, and Theo’s witnessed what being a failure means enough times to last a lifetime and beyond. Always been battle to battle to battle with no end in sight, no reprieve that he could look forward to.
And now, after making it out to the other side and looking back, Theo objectively knows that being punished for not being able to physically hold his body up was cruel. But it had been all that he knew and he had learned pretty early on that it was either follow instructions or mysteriously vanish off the face of the planet.
And Theo had no one that would actually care if he did, so he forced himself to be that person instead. Survive it all for himself, persevere through all the shit they put him through for himself, hoping that one day he’d actually make it through.
He had, but everything that they’d ingrained into him still remains carved into his skin; jagged, invisible scars that he sometimes wishes he could see.)
For once in his fucking life, he wants to admit that he’s tired.
And Liam’s still staring down at him, his eyebrows now furrowed because of the absence of Theo’s answer, physical and spoken, and Theo’s eyes meet his, noticing the way the triumph that had brightened the beta’s eyes moments before had toned down.
“Theo?”
The hesitant inflection in his voice slams into Theo’s chest with a force that shakes him, and all of a sudden, Theo’s hyper-aware of the claws still pressed into the jut of his hip and the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. Hyper-aware of the fact that he’s down, trapped underneath someone that Theo knows all too well is stronger than him, though he’s never dared to concede it.
He thinks that maybe, he might be ready to finally concede. Both the wolf and the coyote whimper their approval, and Theo grits his teeth as he makes himself go against every instinct built into him.
His body cries out its gratitude as his mind roars its discontent and sounds a siren, but he doesn’t listen to it, just lets himself let go.
Theo lets his muscles relax, hips sinking into the ground and arms giving up on their pointless struggle against Liam’s tight grip. His head tips back slightly, almost on instinct, his animals humming in agreement as it does. And Theo catches the second Liam figures it out, hears the little hitch in the beta’s breath when he realizes what he’s doing.
They both say nothing, the tension swirling between them loud enough as Theo stares up at Liam, surprise and a hint of something else shining in the beta’s eyes.
“Theo—”
Theo screws his eyes shut and lets his head fall back further, breaking eye contact suddenly. The claws on his hip disappear as Liam’s hand comes up to grab onto Theo’s free arm, the pointed ends pricking Theo’s bicep.
Liam nudges Theo’s head further up with his own, Theo’s breath catching in his throat in response as he stiffens. He squeezes his eyes harder, heart feeling as if it could pound right out of his chest, and waits for what’s coming.
(A small part in the back of his mind is still screaming, warning him that this is a mistake. Crying out that this is gonna come back and split him open more than he already is.
His neck is so exposed, it would be so fucking easy to rip his throat out with claws or fangs. So easy for him to die like this, under the beta of the true alpha he tried to kill. Under someone who has every reason to go through with it if he wants to.
And Theo hopes, almost desperately prays to absolutely no one, that Liam chooses mercy.)
The first touch of fangs against his throat makes him tense up more than he already is, hands clenching uselessly above him as Liam’s head fits into the space Theo’s made defenseless. But long seconds pass and all Liam does is just hold it between his teeth, not even breaking skin with them. Theo can feel every exhale that Liam makes against his skin, tickling his neck with hot air, and he slowly starts to let some of the tension in his body seep out, a ragged sigh escaping his lips.
It takes more than a few slow, dragged-out breaths for Theo to actually unwind completely, but Liam is patient, doesn’t make any attempt to rush him. As if he knows about the Herculean effort it took for Theo to surrender. To admit defeat, even in a no-consequence situation.
One of Liam’s hands slides down his arm, fingers leaving scorching trails across his skin, moving to cup the back of his neck gently and lifting it up slightly. Theo’s breath shudders out of his chest as the crown of his head comes to a rest on the ground below and Liam’s fangs retract, the beta’s blunt teeth pressing into his skin for a couple of moments before he pulls back.
“Li—”
Theo breaks off with a choke when Liam starts nosing his neck instead, the touch barely grazing him as he drags his nose down, stopping an inch above his pulse point. The top of Liam’s head pushes against Theo’s chin as he angles it up, lips lightly brushing over where his heartbeat is spiking, and Theo’s lips part involuntarily as a noise rumbles in the back of his throat.
“I got you,” Liam murmurs quietly into his skin, sending a shiver down Theo’s spine. The double entendre doesn’t go unnoticed by Theo, and something in his chest uncoils as he lets the words wash over him, flutters helplessly as Liam continues to breathe Theo in, burying his face into the most vulnerable part of Theo’s constructed body.
Theo swallows thickly in response, feels his throat move against Liam’s lips, feels the way the beta increases the pressure in turn. His eyes close automatically, the mortar of his insides softening in a way he hasn’t felt before, his chest absurdly light and airy. Like Liam’s somehow drained out the weight pressing in on his lungs just through his claws and fangs holding Theo down. Like Liam’s found a way to worm into its cavity and replaced it with something else, something brighter. Something like himself.
Another jagged breath rattles out of Theo, and it feels significant in the way it’s in perfect sync with Liam’s exhale. Feels significant in the way their chests are flush with each other, the way Theo’s heartbeat thuds under Liam’s lips, the way Liam’s still got his hand under Theo’s neck like an anchor.
“You good?” Liam whispers, but it’s a different question from before, carries a heavy slew of implications along with it this time, and Theo hesitates. But everything inside of him already knows the answer, has already accepted all the confessions that he’s been trying not to think into existence. Already feels the way they’re engraved into his skin like the irrefutable truths they are.
And so Theo simply nods as much as he can with Liam’s head still tucked under his chin, the top of his head barely lifting off the ground. And Liam takes it as the full surrender that it is, pulls Theo slightly closer with the hand on the back of his neck, presses his lips a little harder against Theo’s throat. Deliberately grazes his fangs on the same spot a second after, as if he’s trying to convey something. As if he’s trying to confirm something.
Theo breathes out slowly and just lets him.