Chapter 22: Skyler - Pack of Mine

I’m getting fucking antsy just sitting here. I can’t take it any more.

My knees bounce up and down in the backseat while Tristan and Valentine sit silently in the front, just staring out the car windows and listening to the radio.

And I’m back here losing my goddamn mind.

My brain feels like a shaken soda that’s about to pop. I run my fingers through my matted hair, pulling it again and wincing at the pain.

Please don’t fucking die, Octavia.

Tristan reaches his hand back and places it on my shaky knee, attempting to comfort me. It’s cute, but it’s not really working.

“She’s gonna be okay, we just have to wait and see what happens.” His light blue eyes glow in the LED lighting of the hospital sign. “She’s gonna be okay.”

I fucked it up so bad.

“I’m such a piece of shit…” I murmur under my breath and continue to spiral into my thoughts.

My eyes close and I see visions of her seizing over and over, her mouth wide open and foaming all over the dirt. My heart aches to beat out of my chest – I want to rip it out with my fist and tell it to fucking shut up.

“Let’s go home and watch the news, we’re probably not gonna see her for a few days.” Valentine turns the lights back on and starts to drive the car away.

“A few days?!” I scream at him and grip the back of his seat.

“Calm down, Hulk. Let’s go home and have a drink.”

I have to tell her how I feel, I have to make this right.

I’ve fucked up for so long now, she can’t die thinking that I hate her.

“Capishe?” He drives further from the hospital, the lights fading farther and farther out of my sight.

No, not fucking capishe. There’s no chance I’m sleeping tonight, not one bit.

* * *

Valentine’s car pulls into the long driveway and he swiftly parks in the six-car garage. We all three trudge our way into the living room and pour drinks for ourselves before plopping down into a chair or the sectional.

For a few minutes, it’s completely silent. No TV, no record player, no ambient noise, just the sound of ice clinking around in a glass when someone finally takes a swig.

“I think I’m in love with Octavia.” I decide to break the silence with a crushing sentence. “And I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Valentine spins the whiskey around in his glass, admiring it, and bites his lip. His facial expression remains completely unreadable.

Tristan chugs down his fruity vodka cranberry cocktail and bashes the empty glass down on the side table, almost breaking it.

“I’m not doing this. I’ll be in my room if you need me,” he spits out as he quickly walks away and slams his door behind him, leaving me and the brick wall of a human to drink away our sorrows, or lack thereof.

“Valentine, do you ever feel… anything?”

The liquor burns my chewed-up lips as I shoot back the rest of my whiskey, standing up to pour another one. I grab a random bottle, filling up my crystal glass with a heavy pour.

I need to numb some of my feelings right now.

He ponders my question for a second, or maybe ponders answering it at all.

“...Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate any further than that.

Great talk. I roll my eyes.

“Val, I’ve known you for over ten years, you’re fucking family to me. Tell me one time you’ve ever felt something.”

I make my way back to my chair, but before I sit down, I place a jazz vinyl on the record player, just to ease the awkward silence in the room.

He adjusts the way he’s sitting and takes another sip. A pack of cigarettes falls out of his pocket and he pulls one out, lights it up, and takes a deep inhale.

Okay, we’re getting somewhere.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only when I don’t want to feel.” He takes another drag.

“What are you feeling?” I pry.

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling, blowing the smoke out and scratching his grey and white scruff. He watches it spread around the air for long enough that I think he forgot I asked him a question in the first place.

“I was in love, once.”

Well damn, I didn’t expect that.

I give him the space to choose to say more or to leave it at five painful words, not wanting to push my luck too far. We sit in silence for many minutes, listening to the soft melodies of a saxophone and spacing out.

Just as I’m about to give up hope on him, he speaks again.

“Allison Grace was her name. I was young, dumb, and a little reckless. She didn’t know what I was, and I didn’t even fully understand it myself.” His raspy voice soothes my ears and I bite my tongue to let him talk.

“We dated for a few months. I took her on beautiful trips and she even met my family. I thought I had found my forever, my person.”

Valentine has never opened up like this before. I sit as still as a statue, afraid that if I move even an inch, I might scare him from continuing his story.

“One night, we went out drinking. I took her to this wonderful country bar, where we danced and drank all night. It was something out of a modern rom-com movie, just perfect.”

He spins his drink around and shoots the rest of it back before heading to the bar for another. This one is a heavy pour. He swallows back his entire glass, makes another one, then slides back into the sectional.

“Val…”

I watch his features crumble, his stoic mask finally breaking away. He continues to drink his glass of sorrows and take long drags off his cigarette, but I don’t know if he’s capable of finishing the story.

“Shut up.” He glares at me and his words have bite. “Don’t pity me.”

I hold my hands up to surrender, sloshing a little bit of my drink on the rug. I might’ve poured too much.

He sighs.

“A random asshole flirted with her in front of me and pushed me around. I felt a transformation coming. I knew when I felt heavy emotions, I would tend to flip. I was still getting control of it and hadn’t mastered the timing yet, so I excused myself and went out the back door.”

He takes another long drag, blows the smoke straight out in front of him and swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple bob before he speaks again.

“My body abandoned me that night. I had never lost control like that before, but I just broke. I felt feral, uncontrollable, utterly insane. I’m not sure why it was different that time.”

A tear slips from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t wipe it, just lets it fall down his cheek as he stares out the window. It looks like he’s remembering everything so vividly.

“And… she walked out there looking for me, saw me in the worst moment I’ve ever had. And…”

Oh, fuck. I know where this is going.

He sucks in a final drag, the bright orange tip hitting the butt of the cigarette. He holds in the smoke with a seethe of his teeth, puts it out in an ashtray on the end table next to him, and finally exhales.

“I… I had to kill her. She was panicking, she was trying to call the cops, she saw the monster that I truly was. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Val, you can stop.” I never thought when he finally opened up to me, I would ask him to close back down.

He ignores me and keeps going.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I could never be in love, not with a human at least.” He gulps. “At the end of the day, my instinct to survive was stronger than my feelings were for her, and… that has broken me ever since.”

I sit in silence, unsure what to say next. I stare at him while he continues to gaze forward, reliving the memories of that night.

“I’ve closed my heart off since then. I learned how to not let things get to me, in hopes that maybe one day I’d be good enough – good enough at controlling my emotions until I meet a female version of me, someone who could see that I’m not an animal, someone who would understand what I had to do. It’s been almost thirty years of this…”

“Octavia…” I drunkenly taste her name on my tongue.

“She gets it.”

He says everything I need to know in three words. She gets it.

She gets us, she gets him, and I think she even likes it. When I snooped around her apartment to bring her things here, I found a bunch of werewolf smut books, dark romance art on the walls, and crazy sexual fantasies she wrote about in a journal.

“She gets it.” Damn, it feels good to say it.

I chug the rest of my drink and lean back in the chair, shutting my eyes and remembering the addictive scent of her. That perfect aroma never went away, and it couldn’t hide behind a metal door or concrete walls.

I can’t help but feel everything played out the way that it was supposed to. The night I met her at the bar, the smell that radiates off of her that makes me unravel, the invisible claws she has dug into my back – how could it be anything but fate?

Fate is a son of a bitch, but that’s about all that explains it. Still, she deserves better than this pack of fucked up half-human-half-animals.

“Skyler, you’re the only one who ever resisted it.” He makes me eat my words. “Me and Tristan were on board from the get-go.”

Damn. I hate to admit it, but the old man is right. I led my pack astray.

And without another word, Valentine stands up drunkenly and wobbles over to his wing of the house. He doesn’t look back at me, but I throw up a hand to wave him goodbye.

All alone in the living room, up late, drunk and lonely. What does a man do at this hour?

Yearn.

* * *

I stumble my way towards my little brother’s room, feeling my buzz pretty strong now. That last drink almost threw me into a wasted sleep.

I don’t want to be alone tonight, I just need someone.

My knuckles knock on his door, but no one answers. I decide to just let myself in because why not, and I hear his shower running. Steam seeps out from under his bathroom door, and I sneak up to it to see if it’s unlocked.

It is.

I slowly twist the handle, the warm air and smell of his coconut shampoo pulling me in closer.

“Skyler?”

He stands shocked in the shower, dripping wet and soapy everywhere. Without saying a word, I begin to strip my clothes off one by one. His eyes roam over my body, but he stays in place like a museum artifact.

I stretch my arms up high above my head and let out a relieving groan, pulling my torso tight and giving him a great view of my bottom half.

Exactly as I wanted, he begins to tighten up and distress takes over his whole body. Tristan is easy to manipulate, and it’s even more fun to do while I’m intoxicated.

I open the glass shower door and slip in, intentionally ignoring the naked elephant in the room. My hands run up and down my nude body and I soak my hair under the shower head, groaning at the pressure of the hot water on my scalp.

Please, wash away tonight.

He stands still like a statue, but his stiff cock twitches.

“Skyler?” He asks again.

“Yes?”

I offer him a teasing voice and tilt my head back under the water, my fingers running through my hair.

“What are you doing… in my shower?” His voice shakes slightly. So cute.

I hesitate to respond, unsure if I even want to hear the answer come out of my lips. If I say the words out loud, they become real, and I have to deal with them later.

Nevertheless, in my drunken state, they find a way to slip off my tongue.

“I was lonely.”

I open my eyes and look into his desperate blue irises, his wet blonde hair hanging into them.

“Oh…” He seems to relax a little, but his pulsing cock does not. He looks down shamefully when my gaze locks on his manhood. “I’m sorry, don’t look at that.”

He tries to cover himself with his hands, but I pull them up above his head while I stare.

“Don’t lie to me.”

I push his soapy body into the glass wall and wrap my hand around his throat, his eyes widening with fear.

I glare at him for a few moments, basking in the scent of his adrenaline and the sound of his pulse fluttering in his neck for me. Even through the fear, desire overthrows the kingdom of his body and he can’t hide it from me.

I need more.

My lips aggressively smash into his, kissing him deeply as he pushes back into me. His moans fill my ears and echo beautifully in the shower, like an opera singer. I grab the circular scars on his chest and twist the skin around, enjoying a side dish of sadism with our main course of passion. He winces, but his tongue thrashes against mine.

Mine. My little brother from another mother is all mine.

He wraps his soft, smaller hands around my face and he pulls me closer, his hard cock pushing into my wobbly quads.

Our lips hang over each other as we pant, embracing both of our loneliness together. Saliva connects us and we both refuse to wipe it away.

“Skyler…” He opens his puppy-dog blue eyes with wet eyelashes and holds my face close to his. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be your pet.”

“I know.”

“But now you have her and…” He looks hurt and turns his saddened face away from me. His next sentence is but a whisper.

“You don’t have any purpose for me.”

“You’re wrong.”

I violently grab his body and turn us around, smashing his chest and hard cock into the tiled wall. My hands run through his blonde hair and I force his chin up against the wall, exposing his neck to me.

His whimpers make my entire vessel light on fire.

More…

My fangs come down and I bite into his neck, stroking myself behind him and using the soap from his body as lube.

“Skyler…”

That’s not my name.

He moans and puts his hand above him and in the back of my hair behind him, pulling me into him again.

“I want to feel you…”

“You want this?”

I slide my throbbing girth up and down his cheeks, parting them and teasing him with it. My ankles wobble with a lack of balance underneath me.

Fuck, I need to get off and go to sleep.

“Please, I would do anything.” He attempts to stroke himself, but I catch his wrists and pull them above his head, holding them there tightly with my left hand.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

I slide the tip in, stretching him out slowly. And my God, it’s an impossible fit. His hole feels like a hard fist clenching me with all its might. He’s so fucking tight, this is going to take a while.

“Daddy…”

Don’t think of Valentine, don’t think of Valentine.

He moans and arches his back, pushing himself further onto me and I slide in a little deeper. We need more lube, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

Fuck, my head is back in the game.

He moves his small frame up and down the tip of my shaft, grinding back and forth on me at his own slow pace.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to fuck him through the tiled wall. The cells in my muscles literally explode with restraint.

“Daddy…”

I don’t know what he keeps saying my name for.

“Tristan, I…” My teeth grind into each other, the intensity of limitation becoming overwhelming.

“You’re so fucking big, Daddy. I can’t count how many times I’ve imagined how you’d feel inside me, stretching me wide.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He’s making this so much harder than it already is.

“Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.”

I shake off my self-control and shove myself into him all the way to the hilt, feeling his ass cheeks touch my hips. The constriction around my shaft makes my eyes roll into the back of my head and I groan animalistically in his ear.

“I want to use you,” I growl out. “Don’t make me hold back, little brother.”

“Use me, please.”

His fingers try to grip the stone on the wall as he anticipates what’s coming – he’s watched me fuck before.

I take what I want, and I get it.

I let go of his hands and put my right one around his throat, the other on his hip, and pump strenuously long strokes in and out of his backside. His ass is so fucking tight that it’s practically pushing me out, but his moans fuel my drive and the demon inside me begs me to go faster, harder, rougher.

“Use me, Daddy.”

Fuck it.

I thrust into him ruthlessly, shoving his body into the unforgiving wall. He groans, but pushes his hips back into me. I don’t have to be a mind reader to see he wants more.

“That’s right, I am your fucking Daddy, no one else.”

I pump into him harder and harder, his cheeks clapping against my hips and the water in between us. His hard cock slams into the tile over and over again, but he doesn’t touch it.

Good boy, Tristan.

My grip around his throat tightens and he wheezes, his eyes only showing their whites and he pushes his backside even faster into me. At this point, he’s doing all the work and it feels fucking incredible.

“Please fill me up, I’m begging you,” he squeaks out like a mouse.

Oh, fuck.

I put both of my hands on his hips and thrust into him with full force, showing no mercy to his hole. This is exactly what I needed – destroying someone else to get off tonight.

“Daddy, please, make me your pathetic little cum dumpster. I’m nothing, tell me I’m nothing to you.”

He’s wrong, but I’ll lie for the thrill.

“You’re fucking nothing, Tristan, just a hole for me to fill whenever I please.”

And with that, my balls tighten, my fangs bite into his neck again and I empty myself into him, throbbing the entire time.

Pathetic whines sing off the shower walls and he pants, his wet eyelashes kissing his blushed cheeks.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Holy fuck, I should’ve done that way sooner,” I breathe into his ear.

I’m so lightheaded from the steam, the drinks and my roaring orgasm, I think I might pass out if I stay in this shower any longer. He pulls himself off of me, my slightly bloody cum dripping out of him and slipping down his shaking thighs.

“Your turn now?”

I take a deep breath, trying to slow my heart rate and look down, but he’s soft. My brows knit together and I look back up at his face, which is tomato red.

“I… already came.”

His juices stick to the wall and drip down the tile.

Without touching himself? Wow. I’m actually impressed.

I pull him in for a deep kiss, tilting my head to reach the back of his throat with my tongue. The hot water pounds on my back, the energy of his unadulterated obsession for me and warm steam surrounds us.

“Can we cuddle?”

He tugs away from my swollen lips, looks up at me with those big blue eyes and I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, we can cuddle, Tristan, just let me smoke first.”