Note: This is my first story, so, it's probably not great. Leave comments on what I can do to improve, as this is going to be an ongoing thing hopefully unless this sucks so much that no one wants to know what happens next.
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Keith's teenage years weren't the best.
Mostly because 2 years worth of them was spent in darkness.
A low growl erupted from somewhere around him. The only light was very dim, and hurt your eyes more than the dark did. Then there was the small amount of light that seeped through the crack of the door God-knows-how-far away. He could feel the warmth radiating from hundreds of bodies around him. A thick wall of glass stretched out before him, and he realised, tasting blood in his mouth, how deep into his own lip he'd bitten to stop angry tears pouring down his twenty year old face.
Keith could barely hold back from punching the glass, even though he knew he'd end up breaking his fist.
Again.
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If he'd not gone into that gay bar, he would have been safe. Even if he had gone in, if he'd avoided the alcohol. Maybe he would've had a chance.
But he didn't.
He just stared at the man a few metres away, leaning on the bar with one hand. Black hair, steel gray eyes, nice ass. Sure there were plenty of guys like that. But not a single one made his cock - or his wolf - stir like that bloke did. He had actually been just about to leave, pissed off with his wolf chiding him for coming, when the man'd strode up to the bar, all attitude. After a few moments Keith had come to his senses and stared into the frothy, golden liquid of his drink with a name he couldn't pronounce. The most alcoholic - and most expensive - drink on the menu. His inner wolf was growling softly at him. He reprimanded him through telepathy.
No way Casanova, he thought, his thoughts going straight to his wolf, if I let you out you and I both know you'll go claiming him over the bar. How the fuck would that look, hmm?
He hadn't realised how close the guy had got, with his silvery white hair - even though he was only eighteen - covering his face in embarrassment and was jolted back to reality when he felt the man's (he assumed it was him) breath against his neck. One hand on his leg, pointing to his erection that he'd been trying to hide. "That for me, sexy?" Keith was panicking but his wolf was loving it. "I think so," he chuckled, as he brushed his fingers against Keith's jeans.
Shit piss fuck! What do I do?! he found himself thinking.
Pfft. Why're you so bloody worked up, eh? You didn't mind when it was James doing it did you? And look what happened.
Keith almost cringed. Almost. James had been his partner before. Keith had so desperately thought it was his mate, enough to convince himself. Then again, that wasn't hard.
He had chosen to show his wolf to James, and Keith swore he'd had a heart attack. The next day Keith found James' stuff gone, and he never saw nor heard of him again, apart from that one text.
Stay the fuck away from me, you freak! If I see you again, I'll call the cops. I'll call the army. I'll call the fucking zoo.
They were sixteen at the time. Very young, yes, and reckless. Only just of age. It took Keith two years to get over him, and for once, his wolf was sympathetic with him. Everything, everything, he saw reminded him of James until eventually his wolf told him to get a fucking grip and go meet someone new, which, he did.
While reminiscing, Keith hadn't noticed the man slamming some money down on the counter to clear his tab. Or dragging him out of the bar. Or into the car, a slick black jag. Only when in the elevator going up to his apartment, with the guy running his hands up and down his back, across his crotch, did he finally begin to register what was going on. He groaned. "By the way, I'm Adam," The man said. "You're going to need my name because I'm gonna make you scream it." Keith very nearly came to that. Jesus Christ, he was either really damn easy to play or this guy was good. Probably both.