Chapter Text
Fog rolled in heavy on Beacon Hills. Thick as butter. And leaves crunched underfoot. September evenings in Beacon Hills were strange. You could get by wearing a t-shirt and a light jacket, but the fog rolled in heavy, leaving the clothes sticking to you in the humidity or cutting through your every layer, fog settling in like the set piece of a cheap B movie - a movie called Swamp Guy because the studio couldn’t secure the rights for the original Swamp Thing franchise. A grey green hue coloured the town, dark but invigorating, illuminated by houses, cafes, restaurants, street lamps.
Things had been calm for a little while, a month without major incident. There had been no walls bleeding, portals to otherworldly dimensions, druids hellbent on taking over the world, cat people doing cat people things. Traffic accidents had been steady, graffiti, public drunkenness, there were no spikes or dips, but the regular noise of a regular town that didn’t need to systematically call high school sophomores and seniors to fight evil.
Jordan shuffled into Derek’s loft at 7:10PM for a pack meeting while Stiles and Scott argued, a box of takeout Thai Curry Chicken, and his gym bag in hand. He was wearing a tank top, hoodie and compression shorts, with his uniform neatly folded in the gym bag. Getting out of the office prior to 8PM was an irregular occurrence for Jordan, overachieving kept his schedule tight, his meals regimented, a crisp haircut you could set your watch to, exercise catalogued for maximum impact, and home decor spartan. He’d trim his nails, run 10 miles every morning, spend an hour in the gym six times a week, and an additional hour swimming every second day. He’d even go to church with his mom every third Sunday. This discipline was evidently a carryover from the army, he meticulously maintained a lifestyle of control. Heck, even takeout was unusual. Normally he would have a small glass container of rice, beans, and boiled chicken with some salt for flavour.
Around the loft, Theo, Liam, Scott, Malia, Lydia, Stiles and Derek sat around in a circle. Jordan took a free seat next on the loveseat nearest the door, trying to make himself small as a late arrival to the pack meeting, next to Liam. “You’re late,” mocked Liam, leaning closer, while Scott countered Stiles in a heated, albeit seemingly silly discussion. Judging by the incredulous faces around the room, Stiles was arguing a point no one believed.
Stiles and Derek had been dating for a short time, and tonight held hands, while Derek listened intently. While an ordinarily dour, caustic person, he might pride himself on his remove, but he was an intense person. It was hard not to speculate wildly about their relationship, who was top or bottom - Derek reads like a top, but a dude who puts that much energy into leg day must love riding dick.
Regardless, Theo, Liam, Scott, they all listened to varying degrees of interest, from least to most engaged.
“Dude, it’s been quiet! And I have a history paper due Monday.” Derek and Jordan looked around the room, with the realization that they were both at least five to seven years the senior of the rest of the pack, and homework had long been left behind, replaced by bills, paperwork, and meal prep, and the other fun stuff adulthood brought with it - for Jordan at least. Heck, Liam was 14 to Jordan’s 27. Nearly double his age.
“I’m telling you, something is wrong,” Stiles claimed, “I’ve watched every episode of Buffy and know that when shit is this quiet, something is bound to happen.”
“That’s a wild leap in logic, Stiles,” Lydia jumped in. “You’re stretching the meaning of emergency meeting, Stiles.” Liam chuckled at the same time as Theo, and slid further down the couch to slouch. They had a tense peace, a grudging mutual respect that belied their past antipathy. A truce to keep the peace for the greater good - of their mutual friends desire to see them again. Teenagers, however superpowered, can grate when they dislike one another.
“Look, I’m sure something will happen, like sure there’s no blood seeping from the walls, no dogs forming packs in the street, and Theo hasn’t tried to kill us for a while, but I picked up these books from the magic store thing - which we are returning ASAP, Derek said, cutting in - and they’re informative about the magic at play here with the Nemeton.”
Laid out on the coffee table, Stiles had brought a sampling of the books he’d accumulated - Wolves of Paris, Okkult, Catcher in the Rye, Histories of Magic, the Magicks of the Lycans, all heavily stickied with post-it notes and photocopies from other books. OK, the Salinger may be one of Stiles’ English assignments, unless, buried deep in a story on adolescent angst and puberty, maybe there was an ur-text of magic spells.
Liam glanced over the book titles. Even as a werewolf, believing in magic felt like believing in aliens. Still, sometimes the truth was out there, and irrefutable. Sitting in a room with werewolves and other lycans, a hellhound, a banshee, and a chimera, it left room to believe that maybe the pyramids were built by ancient Mayan aliens in cheap rubber Star Trek costumes. Though prior to moving to Beacon Hills, Jordan, Theo, they almost all thought of werewolves as a poorly conceived metaphor for puberty.
Jordan felt a particularly sharp taste of ginger hit his tongue, and his body already ran hot on a normal, so he leaned back and peeled off the hoodie. He could feel someone’s eyes on him as he lost a layer, though as he scanned the room, he saw a bunch of possible culprits, but no one person seemed to be the person. With green eyes, brown hair, and a regimen for staying in great shape, he was used to the eyes running up and down his physique like a recipe you’re trying to perfect.
Liam couldn’t help but glance occasionally - with others around the room, like Theo or Scott, or picture Stiles and Derek fucking, he would stare as well. Parrish was easy to look at, and the amount of times he’d lost a shirt, pants, down to his seemingly flame-retardant briefs from his hellhound shift, it was hard not to sneak the occasional look. Liam could feel the heat pulse off of him. Every time they were close, he would feel a low heat, and it was always comforting, but incredibly infuriating. He wanted to feel it, touch it, touch him. Parrish’s flirtations with Lydia and Stiles threw him, and he wanted in. He wanted to wrap those thighs around his body and show Parrish a good time - and just like that, Liam was daydreaming.
“OK, dude, I feel you. Things always go sideways by the fifteenth of every month, but until we can point to a body or like birds hunting people, we gotta assume there’s nothing happening,” Scott countered.
Leaning forward and a little over Parrish, Liam tried to inch a little toward him and grabbed one of the books “the Magicks of the Lycans”. And he then crossed his legs, an excuse to lean a little closer to Parrish. Even as a vague excuse to lean in to him, Liam found himself drawn to the pictures, to the chapter titles, to the contents. “Mastery of minds.” Hmm, what does that mean? While everyone argued, the book showcased a series of diagrams for control, for manipulation, for so much potential.
Liam’s blood ran hot. He charged into every fight without much thought, and learned best from hindsight and bruises. He’d fought Scott, Theo, even burned himself on Parrish once when Parrish was under Garrett Douglas’ control - another hot shirtless Parrish moment, he thought wistfully - and yet he continued to run hot blooded. But with this, Liam saw an opportunity heretofore unexplored, he would need to do some intensive research, and to do so he’d need all his talents to snatch the book.
“Hey, Stiles, can I borrow this book?” Stiles stopped mid-ramble, looked at Liam. “Yeah, sure.” And then he turned and continued to talk.
The book provided another avenue for a horny fourteen year-old who’s impulse control was questionable.
Jordan decided he wasn’t necessary at this pack meeting - “guys, I’m going to dash. I’ll keep my ear to the ground for something, and flag you if something comes up at the station, but right now I need to get to the pool and get some sleep.” Malia took advantage of Jordan’s exit to announce the meeting was boring and she was out too. Soon, the loft only contained Derek and Stiles, and a few books resting on the coffee table.
...
Traffic had all but stopped as the night crept along, as they all retreated home from an entirely necessary and meaningful pack meeting where Stiles, Scott and Lydia argued about whether nothing happening is an ominous portent or the real life of a small town. Streetlights and a half crescent moon illuminated the street at 10:30, visible from Liam’s bedroom.
Decorated with clothes and dishes piling up all over the room, books and comics and posters, Liam was fourteen after all. He lay on his bed in a pair of sweatpants, almost under the covers, lying with his back to the headboard, one arm behind his head, and the book in hand. He got home two hours ago, and cracked the book open immediately upon getting into his room.
Liam would need time to absorb the information, though he voraciously read the chapter and related chapters on control, manipulation, and mental blockages.. And choose a target. A target from among the uncommonly attractive people in his orbit. He ran through the list of people who would be perfect to try this newfound research on. Theo, with his model good looks and impossibly sculpted muscles, Scott with that goofy grin, toned body, and thick thighs, Derek - who seemed impossible to please but so fully in need of pleasure. Brett, Nolan, Corey, Jackson, so many choices and counterpoints. Then Parrish came to mind.
With Derek, it would be challenging to avoid repurcussions because of his relationship to Stiles (and vice versa), Scott because apparently True Alphas require some degree of mastery over the control skill, and Theo because one fuck-up and Theo has leverage to use against Liam, but Jordan. Jordan would be the easiest to test out his control, according to the book. Hellhounds need to be bound to a master - typically the ghost riders of the wild hunt - and without one, they are more pliable to suggestion. He was single - or Liam never noticed anyone else’s scent on him whenever they saw one another at pack meetings - and he would be easy to find - he would be either at work, the gym, or home - and with the added bonus he was hot as fuck.
Liam ran through the possibilities and could find no major reason to avoid trying on him. Parrish needs to loosen up, Liam justified, and how better than to try with him. Liam couldn’t help but daydream about his tight body, those big pecs, the thickest thighs he’d ever seen that weren’t Scott’s - gotta think about trying something with Scott eventually - and those green eyes. So open, so warm, so beautifully expressive.
Liam leafed through his thoughts about all the members of the pack, with a catalogue of moments shared with Corey or Scott or Theo to keep him going, but he always made a pit stop on Parrish’s features. The way his too-tight uniforms always burned off, while leaving seemingly flame-retardant underwear, showcasing a clearly hard-earned work ethic. Dude could wear a uniform (or less). All this planning - mostly daydreaming about fucking around with dudes in the pack - really tightened up his sweatpants something fierce. All this planning - and some daydreaming about fucking around with dudes in the pack - really tightened up his sweatpants something fierce.
Liam pushed the sheets down past his hips, it was 11 PM and he didn’t need to romance himself, just bang one out and get to sleep. He inched his hips upwards, pulled down his sweatpants to just below his balls, and lightly wrapped his right hand around his dick. With his spare hand, he grabbed his balls. Images flashed as he stroked himself. Scott lying on his stomach while I fuck him and slap his ass, Derek blowing me, worshipping Derek’s pecs and arms, Jackson getting fucked hard right after he throws a hissy fit, Theo’s smug smile getting slapped hard with my dick, worshipping Parrish’s ass, his thighs, spitting in his mouth, mussing up his boy scout haircut, cumming on his face.
Liam leafed through his thot rolodex about all the members of the pack, with a catalogue of smut-worthy moments shared with Corey or Scott or Theo to keep him going, but he always made a pit stop on Parrish. The way his uniforms always looked like they were two sizes too small, showcasing a clearly hard-earned work ethic.
Liam’s hips lifted a little, as he pumped, grabbed his nipple with one hand, stretched out further, pumped, licked his fingers to lube up his cock, picked up speed, pumping, keening, imagining. His left hand roamed down his chest, over his abs, and joined his right hand in grabbing his dick. As he continued, switched hands, Liam could feel it building, like the slow cresting of waves. Tide was rising. Rising, rising. He wanted to see what he could do with Parrish, how far he could push him. Maybe dress him slutty, like he was at the pack meeting. Shorter shorts, tighter shirts, more squats, more chest workouts. Liam would use his body like a yoga mat.
Then he came, Liam rocked his hips up, and his mind whited out. Cum sprayed over him, hitting his chest and abs, his shot even arced up to his chin.
Reaching over the bed, he grabbed a discarded t-shirt and wiped himself down. Gotta plan, gotta plan for tomorrow, cause tomorrow I snag a hellhound. While he mediated on his planning, he curled into his pillow and drifted off
Liam woke up as the sun’s slanted rays hit his eyes. 7:40. The best plan Liam could imagine was to find a time when Parrish would be alone and test his newfound study, then push the boundaries of what Parrish could and would do. Liam was no genius, he averaged a consistent B minus in almost all his classes, but he knew all it took was a location and a time to meet Parrish alone. And then the real fun could begin. Parrish kept to schedules neurotically, finding him was easy; in normal times, the biggest risk the boy scout takes was alternating days swimming in the evening and picking up groceries, grabbing dry cleaning, and - I assume - buying new deputy uniforms because of the semi-regular hellhound shift.
Liam daydreamed through his morning routine, and suddenly a light shone in his eye. Shower, shave, eat, rush to school. Stiles and Scott were giving him a ride to school in five minutes ago. He dashed out the front door the moment he heard Stiles’ jeep wheeze out the horn with a third of a banana in his mouth and backpack in hand (and further research materials), running to school.
...
It was a brisk and early Saturday morning in September and, despite having a day off, Jordan was parrying with his punching bag in his apartment. So many people joked about it, so he decided to lean into it. Jordan was wearing a sleeveless under armour shirt with a Captain America insignia on it, very short, tight running shorts.
His pace was metronomic, consistent, constant, controlled punches. With every lunge forward, his calf and thigh muscles stretched and strained, and his pecs clung to his shirt. His breathing was level, but from the flush on his face, the vein running up his left arm, and the sheen of sweat on his chest, the hellhound relished the strain he was putting on himself.
Nearby, Liam struggled to keep apace. Liam had the strengths of a beta, and could keep up on his best days with the supernatural. Even before the Bite, he was strong and fast, in good shape by human standard. Though he definitely felt spurred to be better.
When he texted Parrish about fight training, he did so with self-interest and a plan brewing. But now he just wanted to keep up with him. “Dude, im trying to shape up for the lacrosse tryouts, any pointers on working out?” Liam texted that Thursday. Parrish wrote back, “Sounds good. Let’s do it this weekend. 6:30 Saturday morning. How about some combat training and then a run? There’s a good trail that’s about five miles.” Then he followed up, “Probably better exercise than another naked run under a full moon.” “says you,” Liam replied, “lemme know when and where.”
He was panting heavily behind him, sitting facing Parrish on the couch, thoroughly confused about the energy in the older man, and he immediately regretted his plan. He wanted to hook up with Jordan, but at what cost?
Jordan turned around and taunted, “C’mon Liam, you gotta keep up!” Fucker.
The plan was initially to take over Parrish and fuck him nice and tight in the woods, with his thick thighs wrapped around Liam, the young beta would own a new toy and play with it so good. Unfortunately, Liam thought it best to use the cover of training, and the distraction of shuffling Parrish to a secluded spot in the woods after testing his new ability was not worth it. Instead, he opted to try another tactic.
“And you’re telling me this is just the warm up?!” Liam felt so mad at himself. His plan was backfiring, he was already a little sore, and he could feel the wolf taking over. No, he had a plan, and needed to wait and execute. The irony of this training regimen was he needed to be strong enough to persevere, but not so strong as to break anything in the apartment. Liam is a teenager, and doesn’t have the money to replace anything in Jordan’s place, nor the time to clean up the immaculate apartment. Jordan was extremely spartan in his design - not a flower or painting or photograph in sight, only furniture that served a necessary purpose; couches, chairs, tables.
He got up, eyeing the Deputy, starting at his thick thighs and working up his tightly muscled ass, up his toned back and big, muscular arms, to his muscular shoulders, landing at the nape of his neck - according to the book he would place his claws in the back, and just building Ikea furniture, he’d put the pieces together.
Jordan struck a combat stance, and said, “Liam, try...” and then the claws were placed in the back of his head, at the base of his spine.
Time flowed slowly, seemingly, Liam could see images, thoughts, flowed through him, and it felt like set pieces in a play. Jordan’s body slumped over, with his arms firmly at his side, and his right foot slightly ahead of the left. Liam leaned up slightly, his own body leaning up against the hellhound with his left hand right up against the Deputy’s arm.
What am I looking for, Liam was rooting through Parrish’s thoughts, trying to avoid uprooting too many. Core thoughts. The book mentioned core thoughts. Liam worked through the core thoughts, the core ideas of Parrish, and suddenly he could feel the thoughts he wanted stroked, expanded, grown. He finally found the thing he wanted to learn. He placed images of himself directly into the center of Parrish’s - Jordan’s - darkest fantasies. And like furniture, he could place it in any order he wanted, on whatever floor he wanted.
Retracting his claws, both their bodies moved again. Both Liam and Jordan seemingly held their breaths over the course of the experiment. Liam started talking. “Man, you’ve been so good to help me. You’re such a giving guy. It’s so nice of you to help me out, Jordan.” Jordan perked up, hearing his own name.
His voice was hoarse, he needed a glass of water. “Yeah, thanks, Liam,” groggily. Things felt a little different and yet also the same, colours vibrant and muted all at once. Liam noticed the muted and sedate answers from the Deputy.
Touching his shoulder lightly and Jordan looked down, inscrutable, he pressed on, noting the passages about slowly easing towards what he wanted. “And look at these shoulders. Just so strong, you carry so much on them,” Liam touched his strongly muscled shoulders with both hands from behind, lightly pressing into the muscle, feeling tension. “Though you’re always so perfect, so very Captain America,” he chuckled, “such a boy scout.”
Jordan leaned back into the touch. “I work hard. I like to work hard.” Jordan wasn’t sure what he was doing, his mind felt fuzzy, warm, open. Liam ran his right hand down Jordan’s shoulder, down his arm, he drifted slowly, and just landed on the small of his back with the flat of his palm. His left hand remained kneading the shoulder a little. Jordan couldn’t help but lean into the feeling slightly.
“I can tell, Parrish, I can see all that hard work and dedication and time. I doubt you’ve ever half-assed anything.” Leveraging the hold of his left hand, he spun the Deputy around to face him. And what a sight. Jordan was flush, and his green eyes were almost all pupils, while he chewed at the inside of his cheek a little. Liam could smell the arousal, felt the arousal, leaking off of him.
Jordan was hot to the touch. His breathing was deep, he couldn’t focus on much except Liam’s face. And Liam could smell the hot, musky scent of arousal wafting off him. Jordan swallowed, and bore his eyes into Liam’s with a vague look painted on his face, one of arousal mixed with confusion. He was waiting for something. He was waiting for Liam to keep going, to keep talking, to lay out the terms of his control.
“Man, it’s getting hot in here.” Liam pulled his tank top over his shirt, and Parrish couldn’t help but mirror him. Liam admired the muscular, strong body in front of him. The pecs and abs, the back, the biceps, they are all firm from hard work - and an enhanced supernatural metabolism - the kind of body earned from a disciplined and diligent approach to life. Wearing only the shortest of shorts strained tight on the right leg, Jordan was panting, and little left to the imagination. “Such hard work. You’ll have to show me your workouts.” Parrish almost went to describe the exercises, and was cut off by Liam, “But that can wait, I can’t help but wonder,” he mused, “I can’t help but wonder how much work you put into things. I bet you will work hard to help anyone.”
Looking down, Jordan saw what Liam meant. Liam was very obviously revelling in the control he had over the hellhound, and reciprocated the arousal as well. His sweatpants were tented, and Jordan preened a little at the thought that he was the cause. Grabbing the Deputy’s hand, Liam led the Deputy to stand in front of the couch while he took a seat while keeping a light hold of his hand. “I have a feeling you can be really helpful.” HIs meaning was obvious.
Pulling on the Deputy’s hands, he guided him onto his knees. Jordan gulped. Despite the little bit of crow’s feet, his boyish features seemed that much more boyish, but the unmistakable tangy scent and sight of a flush and thoroughly turned on man. “C’mon Jordan, you’re always so giving, so willing to shine under pressure, you can do it.”
Sitting on his heels, Jordan looked up at the teen searching his face for affirmation, and openly leering at his jock physique. He was toned, definitely, with a nice lean musculature. And he’d always found him attractive, often the star of Jordan’s fantasies - Liam with Theo, Liam solo, Liam fucking Scott, but a part of Jordan was still hesitant. Working his hands up both Liam’s toned thighs, he knew it was wrong to give a minor a blowjob - more than wrong, but actionable as a Deputy - but he knew he was curious and horny, and that overrode any doubts. Looking up from Liam’s crotch into his face, Jordan saw a rough glint in Liam’s and felt a glob of precum leak from his dick.
“Man,” Jordan uttered an incomplete thought, didn’t know where the sentence needed to land; he was so distracted by the task he undeniably was going to undertake. Dipping his fingers below the younger man’s waistband, he sought Liam’s permission. “Yes, god, I know you’re so good, going to be so good for me. I bet you know exactly what to do with your mouth.” Leaning back against the couch, he canted his hips forward slightly, sliding one arm behind his arm - and mounding his tight bicep - while with the other hand, he brazenly caressed the hellhound’s left cheek.
Jordan felt frozen, but it was time. He tugged at the drawstring, and pulled down the sweatpants. Game time. Thwack, bouncing right out from Liam’s boxers was the biggest dick Jordan had ever seen. Slapping against the teen’s abs, a small string of precum connected the shaft to the wolf’s stomach. Jordan was enthralled, and Liam smelled, tasted, and felt him worship the younger man’s body and dick with his eyes. Jordan couldn’t believe his eyes. His pupils dilated, both in apprehension and excitement, and he licked his lips. A gesture not lost on the young wolf.
Guiding the Deputy’s face forward, he craned the hound forward to the tip. I’ve come this far, may as well go through with it, the Deputy rationalized, and Liam could hear that thought. It emboldened him to act more quickly. He couldn’t call his plan a success until he reached the logical conclusion(s).
Jordan leaned forward slightly, and experimentally gripped the thick shaft with his hand. Appraising the dick, he didn’t even know what to say. “Wow,” he said dumbly, so enthralled with his treat. He tried to connect his fingers around Liam’s dick, and just could barely touch the tips of his fingers to his thumb. Licking the head, Liam leaned back and relaxed further. “That’s right Deputy,” Liam gently mocked the captivated man on his knees in front of him, “See how much you can fit, show me how hard you can work. I know you’re such a hard worker, a true glutton for proving yourself.” Liam didn’t want to press his luck, but it was time to push harder, “A slut.” Just then, Parrish took the shaft into his mouth.
Taking note of the reaction, Liam continued to talk.
The hound’s lips stretched out slightly from the first few inches of the shaft, Jordan pushed himself further, trying to swallow more of the beautiful dick in front of him. Even early on, Jordan could feel a little drool slip from his mouth, and he knew he would be a sloppy mess. Maybe this had been Liam’s plan. Jordan definitely wanted to find out.
“Ah yeah, baby, keep working your way down, you can do it. Your lips are so pretty stretched around me. Do you like it?” Mm hmm, Jordan could only grunt in agreement. “Keep going, baby, I bet you can fit it all the way in. You know, no one ever has, but I bet you’re such a giving slut, you could work out a way.”
Threading one hand through his chestnut hair, and keeping the other behind his head, Liam just melted into the couch, letting his slut do the work. Jordan struggled, but pushed himself to take in more, and more, slowly, of Liam’s large and thick cock, moving his hands to rest at Liam’s thighs. Admittedly, Jordan was new to a lot of the experiences today, he’d been given blowjobs, and reciprocated with a quiet and quick handjob while overseas in Afghanistan. Nothing to it, just a quick brojob and bro-handy. Dudes blowing off steam. But with Liam, he wanted more than concommital. He wanted to please, wanted to push himself further.
Liam groaned as his dick reached the back of the Deputy’s throat, and moaned further when Jordan began to pull back, sloppily, bobbing on his treat like he would Halloween candy. Setting himself a nice rhythm, Jordan bobbed up and down the extra long shaft. Every push down against the back of his throat, a little spittle and precum would pour out, and leak a little down his chin.
Liam chiseled at his new plaything’s mind, like marble to be fashioned into a new, perfect sculpture. “You look so good hanging off my dick, just a hot muscular guy working my dick. I bet you’ve thought of this a lot. Yeah, I can tell by how hungry you are - man you smell so horny - you’ve wanted this for a while.” He pressed further, “And I know how hard you work to be the perfect Captain America, Deputy Parrish, working so hard, exercising, training, overtime at the station. I know how hard you work,” Liam reached down with the hand on Parrish’s head to squeeze at his bicep, and moved up to massage the tough muscles of his shoulders, “and I like how hard you work. You’re such a good boy and I just want for you to keep up the hard work.” Ordinarily Liam would chuckle at such an obvious ploy, but Jordan seemed so fully enraptured and appreciative of the words that Liam smelled a glob of precum leak from the Deputy’s dick. “Oh, did you like that? I can smell your pre. I bet you’re so proud to be of service here, I know you’re so glad to be working so hard to help me.”
Liam knew he couldn’t overpower the hound physically, but he was impatient and wanted to fuck into his throat hard. Taking control over the blowjob, Liam stilled Jordan’s bobbing. Bringing his hands behind the hound’s head, he began a slow rhythm. Jordan knew where this was headed, and adjusted his breathing. Liam incrementally increased the speed of his thrusts into the tight heat of Parrish’s throat. Eventually, Liam was fucking into the hound’s throat at a great speed.
Jordan was unsurprisingly a quick study, and could handle getting his throat fucked with aplomb. “Doing such a good job, I bet you like to help me out. I bet you’d look so good riding my dick, getting fucked. I know you’re such a giving, generous bottom. I know your thick thighs would be so hot bouncing on my dick.” Jordan had never had even a finger up his ass, but he wholeheartedly agreed. He felt his hole clench, and he was so fully captivated by the idea. Possessed by it. Until that point, Jordan had always been so fully straight, so fully into Liam, such a bottom, so fucking hard in his tight shorts. Clearly he invited the young wolf over to seduce him, dressed in revealing clothes, flirting with his stud, enraptured by the pounding of Liam’s dick in his mouth, the balls slapping against his chin, and the mix of pre and saliva coating his chin and his young buck’s balls.
It was hard for Liam to contain his glee, he felt his every suggestion take root in Jordan’s mind. His marathon could now be a sprint now that he had his toy prepped and ready for more fun. “OK, baby, you’re doing, mmmm, so good. I’m going to take this home.” Incrementally, he slowed his pace. And stopped. While Jordan groaned in protest, Liam pulled himself right out of the plaything’s mouth. “C’mon baby, lean back, I want to give you a gift, baby.” Jordan sat back on his heels, and as Liam stood up, he worked his sweatpants down over his thighs. He knew what the gift was.
Looking up at Liam, Jordan’s green eyes shone bright, so happy and excited, while the teenager grabbed his dick with one hand, he placed his hand on the hound’s cheek. Jordan sported a cumdrunk look of glee. And alongside the schlick schlick schlick of Liam, the only sound Jordan could hear was his own heartbeat, a rush of blood to match the heat and excitement from seeing his...Liam jerk himself off. His daddy.
His daddy. Fuck. Liam had explicitly pushed for Jordan to see him as his superior, his dominant. He clouded Jordan’s perception with a desire to be the kid’s cum rag, shining a halo over Liam in Jordan’s mind, planting daydreams and fantasies in the older man. But, the lingering thoughts Liam could still overhear from Jordan, Jordan called him daddy. Liam was struck so blind by the idea, and the floodgates opened. Jordan saw it coming and opened his mouth wide. Liam came, came so hard it coated half the hound’s face, neck, one clean stripe in his hair, and some coating his pecs. He looked like an old smut magazine. A few drops rolling down from the middle of his pecs down his tight abs. A sight.
The smell, the feeling of cum falling onto his head and shoulders, he came untouched, so enthralled when his daddy came, almost in tandem with Liam, coating the inside of his shorts. Falling forward slightly, Jordan leaned against Liam’s thighs, “mm daddy.”
“My good boy.” Stroking his hair, and gently guiding the Deputy up to his feet, “let’s get you out of your shorts, and up to your bedroom.”