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His skin is feverish, gooseflesh running up his reddened skin as fingers twist into the sheets to find purchase. A beast above him, stomach slotted against his back, rutting into him without relent. He stinks of heat, like soured rain against stone, a rotten petrichor. It came on so fast; not even a day had passed since Alice left for a job opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
He’d been so focused on writing, the constant clacking with calloused fingers; he neglected his own needs. Those fancy little pills that kept him pacified were disregarded, pushed into the back of his mind. Alice wouldn’t have known, bathed crimson in her dark room most days. His other mate, however, found the discarded bottle, still half-full.
Scratch has a sharp nose. Any new smell is quickly picked up on, and he’s inhaling Alan’s scent like a curious dog. They found themselves on their bed, shared with Alice, stripped of their too-tight clothing that now lay scattered on the floorboards. Claws dig into Alan’s hips, teeth barely scraping at his shoulder blade. The beast growls as his mate’s cunt tightens around him like a vice.
Slick pours from him, running down his sticky thighs and making a mess of the bedsheets. They would need to be washed, but even that wouldn’t remove the rain-soaked odor. Scratch buries deeper inside, eyes screwed shut with a low snarl. Alan whimpers out Alice’s name. The name on his tongue rolls off in a pitiful cadence. Scratch can’t help but moan out for the other alpha as well.
Their thoughts mingle, intertwine as if they were still tethered to the same vessel; Scratch drills deeper into the crevices of Alan’s mind, away from the god-awful manuscripts and straight to the spurting oil. Faint images of Alice, her messy blonde hair and slicked-up cock, fangs bared as she stares down at her mates.
If she were here, she’d call you a pathetic bitch.
Alan nuzzles his face into the messy sheets, incoherent whines of agreement spilling from his lips. Scratch bites down harder. A trickle of scarlet pools at his sunken-in fangs.
Wouldn’t even touch you, wouldn’t let you come for us. She’d just watch you wriggle around, begging for scraps.
“Please, please, Scratch — Alice —“ he begs, doesn’t even know what he’s begging for.
Hands trail down to his groin, claws unlatched from his trembling hips. Those rough fingers press down on his small, twitching cock, rubbing circles until he’s screaming. Scratch preens with a crooked grin, bloodied skin still caught between his teeth.
Gonna breed you, fill you with my pups. Our pups.
“D-Deep—Deeper, I — Fuck, I can’t —“
You can, fucking whore. Do it for us.
His fingers leave Alan’s cock, and the pinned man lets out a high-pitched whine. His protesting whimpers are reduced to pitiful squeaks as Scratch ruts harder into him.
Pathetic. You make us do all the work, you useless bitch.
Scratch’s dexterous fingers return in between Alan’s legs, instead pinching his soaked dick and stroking him with cruel intent. It hurts, he’s too overstimulated, but Scratch just goads and gives a particularly harsh thrust. It hits at his cervix, and pain wells in his lower abdomen right after. Alan screams from both pleasure and pain, squeezing tight around Scratch’s swelling knot.
The cramps dissipate, replaced by the creeping build-up of his orgasm. It explodes, all at once, more slick coating Scratch’s cock as Alan continues to moan out Alice’s name. His name. Scratch tangles his fingers into Alan’s sweaty hair, pushing his face deeper into the mattress as he knots him with a near howl. The pain returns, but Alan is too heat-drunk to care.
Hot spurts of cum paint Alan’s walls, filling him until it began to seep out of his hole. He grinds back against Scratch, whining out for more, more, more. His mate releases his jaws from Alan, skin now blooming into a deep violet. When his knot swells down again, he flips the writer on his back and has his claws to his throat.
“Mine, ours.”
And God, he wishes Alice could be there to watch.