Rio directed Creed to a building that looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in decades. 

The windows were shattered, boarded up, and blocked with stained newspapers, and nearly every inch of brick was covered with layers of graffiti—a colorless rain of black tears and melting gray faces reaching for a white sky. There were scribbled words, names, and pleas for salvation. And the smell of death and decay lingered so strongly that one might believe they’d found the Devil’s dwelling. 

Even the rats stayed clear. 

“Coming in?” Rio asked with a smile.

“Why?” 

“I told you—” He moved on top of Creed, who allowed the boy to straddle him and tame the aching erection by rubbing itself into the cleft of that soft ass. “I want you.”

Creed felt Rio’s hole flaring despite the clothes between them. He knew the boy yearned to be fucked—and the temptation was difficult to resist. 

But, there was more than one meaning of the phrase I want you. To a werewolf, it could’ve meant sex, flesh, or—.

Rio looked down at him, still smiling with a hidden sliver of arrogance. “Come.”

His voice was sweet with seduction. 

Creed gave in and ushered the boy out the door, and followed. He took off his jacket, exposing sleeves of tattoos stretching across every inch of his arms—Norse words and intricate patterns fading along the bodies of serpents devouring the wolves attempting to run up his shoulder. There were small symbols under each knuckle and scars along his fingers. His muscles were even bigger without the jacket, practically ripping through the shirt clinging to him like a second skin. 

And Rio couldn’t help but embrace him again, standing on his toes to wrap his arms around the man’s neck but only able to connect the tips of his fingers. 

He might have been aiming for a kiss, yet he got too close to Creed’s silver chains and immediately let go after burning himself. 

The boy rubbed his chest with a soft pout that Creed found an irritating ounce of pity in, and he reached out to stroke Rio’s cheek as he would a troubled kid. 

“You’re fine,” He said, his voice low but free of the unapproachable tone that Rio was used to.

A slight flush tinted his cheeks, and the boy made an expression that nearly made Creed into a weak man—eyes wide, lips parted, a sudden look of both bewilderment and innocence that disappeared once Rio turned toward the building. 

Creed followed him through a broken door lined with glass teeth and into the dark building. 

He heard music, not instruments or words, but bass waves vibrating beyond the walls and also the flow of water coming from the ceiling. There was trash everywhere: newspapers, needles, and torn clothes leading down the hall where no single sliver of light broke through the darkness. 

“Creed.” 

Rio called for him from the stairwell in a bird’s song voice, and Creed looked up, seeing him standing in front of a wall painted with red words.

Leave before they harvest your corpse. 

The man stared at the writing on his way up then glanced at the bloodied marks and burnt patches leading to the second floor. 

“Have you ever met a werewolf before?” Rio asked from the stairs above him. 

“Once,” Creed said.

“You’re not like other humans.” Rio’s eyes caught fire, peering like small candles burning bright behind the shadows. “You’re not afraid.” 

His own shadow looked as hideous as his true form—a long, disfigured monster walking across the walls in sync with its human guise. 

“Aren’t you curious?” The boy’s voice shifted into something distant and frightening. 

“Of?” Creed stopped mid-flight.

“What eternity tastes like.” Rio laughed. “You must be—you’re following me.”

“Only because you asked so sweetly,” Creed responded, summoning a laugh from the boy.

Finally, the two of them reached the same floor, and Rio looked at Creed, watching him as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind. 

“They’ll accept you if you’re not afraid.” 

Before Creed could respond, Rio headed down the hallway where bones and tattered fabric littered the floor. He saw nail marks along the plaster and loose teeth embedded along the wood. The bass had turned into screaming lyrics and howling—not the howling of wolves, but the baying of something hungrier. 

Rio stopped at one of the doors at the end of the hallway and opened it to reveal a sea of darklight. 

Creed’s muscles tensed. 

His feet felt cemented to the ground, and his heart thrummed in his ears. He could smell rot, meat, and rust coming from deep inside the dwelling, and when Rio turned to him, half-eaten by shadows, he extended his hand and beckoned him inside. 

One might take Creed for a fool for walking into their home, but it was a calling. A moment he couldn’t pass up. 

The door was shut behind him and the music raged on. 

Creed glanced around, staring at the chaotic state the apartment was in—broken furniture and missing doors, words and symbols clawed into the walls and ceiling and some painted over with the same macabre skills as the rest of the building, blacklight washed across the corridor and settled in a room filled with glowing eyes. 

Immediately, they exited the room, all of them taking the forms of malnourished and rabid beasts two times the size of ordinary wolves. Their jaws hung open, long and out of place, and crowded with jagged, crooked fangs still wet with blood. 

The sounds were straight out of nightmares, not growling but gurgling purrs and acid-like hissing beyond deep, vicious breaths. 

All of them—four—inched closer before Rio stepped in front of Creed.

“He’s mine,” He said, looking back at the man. “I chose him.”

Suddenly, all four of them reached for Rio, grabbing his limbs and waist and pulling him into the center of their circle. 

Creed’s instinct was to attack, but Rio’s voice stopped him. 

“Don’t.” 

The four beasts ripped off his clothes, leaving bloodied cuts on his skin and showering his curves with red trails of salvia. 

And the boy let them do as they please, accepting one’s cock into his already-loose hole and moaning long enough for another to force-fuck his mouth. The others waited their turns by rubbing their thick, slick erections against his thighs and chest.

Creed watched the largest one snap at the others who got too close then tore into Rio’s neck as its thrusts turned violent, fucking the boy hard enough to make his expression grow cloudy and his voice shatter. Blood and cum left puddles on the floor, staining the already-darkened wood and filling the air with a metallic zing.

Rio pressed the tips of their cocks against his nipples, massaging them both while the one fucking his face paused to cum floods down his throat. The beast was then bitten by another, who used the bulk of its body to shove them away and take its turn. Rio opened his mouth, unswallowed cum pouring from his lips and making it easier to access his throat. 

The outline of its cock shadowed Rio’s neck, and a small bump pushed against his stomach from the inside, jabbing his navel following every vicious thrust.  

And the boy glanced over at Creed.

Despite the blacklight and chaos of fangs and flesh—Creed saw those full moon eyes staring back at him as if hoping the man would continue witnessing the breeding before him. 

The hounds surrounded Rio, occasionally turning to Creed with corpse-white eyes and jaws gaping in warning. 

He is ours.

That’s what they were saying. 

But Rio soothed their rising hunger for human flesh by rocking his hips until the large one forgot Creed was even there and sent every inch of its cock into the boy’s body with a sudden thrust. 

Rio made noises muffled by the movements—weak, pitiful moans accompanied by the tears rolling down his face that made their orgy look more like a rape. 

Perhaps they enjoyed that illusion, one that went on longer than Creed could tolerate, though the bulge in his pants contradicted whatever morals he claimed to have. 

Finally, the large one crushed Rio between its bulk and the floor, fucking him into the wood as though he were a broken doll beneath him. 

Rio’s skin flushed a beautiful shade of cerise, hot and damp. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he let out a wild cry that shook the fur of all four hounds, a sound overcome by the horrifying satisfaction of the largest one, who paused only to fill Rio with cum—so much that Creed could see it dripping down his thighs and creating puddles on the floor.  

The boy fell onto his hands, his ass in the air and desperately trying to keep the globs of cum from escaping his raw, twitching hole. 

His expression was a mess, drooling and panting and quivering lips trying to suppress the remnants of his moans. 

Creed’s cock throbbed rock hard against his pants. 

And the monsters turned to him, hissing and snarling, making death-nearing noises as the light in their eyes turned to the color of a dead fish. 

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Eat him.

Fuck his corpse. 

Though they spat their threats like the rain of blood from a severed artery, the four males reverted back to their human faces. Their bones broke and twisted into place, their jaws painfully shrinking into their skulls, muffling the open-mouth grunts of agony each man tried to hold back. 

Then, they stood behind Rio, leering at Creed as if he were a threat to their bitch. 

Maybe I am.

They were all different sizes with not one similar feature save for the hunger in their eyes. Their bodies were covered in scars, piercings, and tattoos, the type of men society believed would drag you into an alley and kill you slowly. 

None of them stood straight. They all hunched forward in a way that resembled their monstrous counterparts—on edge, distorted, and inhuman. 

Rio recovered, breaking from his fucked-silly trance and sitting up off the floor drenched in cum and blood. 

He licked his fingers. 

His gaze never left Creed. 

And he smiled. 

He reached out, silently requesting the man’s aid—much to the irritation of the others. 

But Creed was too slow. 

Three men blocked his path while the fourth picked Rio up and carried him into the room they emerged from. And one by one, they all backed off. 

Creed followed them into the room where Rio sat between two of his kin while the other two knelt around a coffee table covered in ash, glass bottles, and the remnants of drugs. 

The air was musty, both windows boarded up and the bones of their victims rotting against the walls. 

“Why is he here?” One asked. A man with a similar build and height to Creed, the only one who could stand and look him straight in the eye. 

He’ll be a problem. 

“He followed me,” Rio said, stretching his bare legs across the large man’s lap, his comment resulting in all four turning toward Creed with murderous intent.

He didn’t budge. 

“He invited me.” Creed’s eyes narrowed back at them, and Rio laughed. 

“I want him.” The boy rested his head against the large man’s darkly scarred skin, nuzzling into his neck. “As one of us.”

The large one scoffed, and Creed crossed his arms. 

“I never said I was interested.” 

A roll of laughter escaped all but Rio, deep bellowing echoes and hyena-like cackles, sounding about as humorous as a scream. 

“You’re quite stupid, aren’t you?” Another commented, his glass eyes painted with insomniac shadows. 

The man beside him snorted a line of coke then flung his head back with a sigh of relief. 

“Let’s eat ’em,” He said, voice breathless. “He looks tender enough.”

“No,” Rio snapped. 

“You’re either interested or you’re prey,” The large one said.

“Is crawling through the slums like a rat and feasting on human flesh something to be interested in?” His comment sparked inner fury, but they remained dormant as if they knew their outburst would upset Rio. 

“What’s a few bodies when you live long enough to forget they even existed?” One said from a chair in the far corner of the room, his fangs still too big for his jaw, limiting the clarity of his words. 

“And we’re more fun than rats,” Another commented. “Together, we can kill anything.” 

Their laughter returned, and Rio stood, leaving the largest man’s side.

He approached Creed and glided a hand across his chest in passing.

“Ignore them,” Rio said, taking the man’s hand. “They’re jerks.”

Rio ushered him out of the room. 

The apartment had been hollowed out in ways that connected rooms from above and below with ladders and planks nailed into the walls. Everything was in ruins and smelled like infected wounds under high noon, and the neon light followed them several floors up where the heavy metal faded into a murmur of city sounds.

And Rio, still naked, fell onto his bed covered in pillows and faux fur blankets surrounded by fairy lights and hanging ivy. 

Creed glanced around the room, seeing old pictures of who he assumed were Rio’s parents and entire childhood, and one that caught his eye, filling him with a quiet rage. 

“Are you sure you’re not interested?” Rio asked. “Forever young. Forever alive. We can do whatever we want and kill anyone who did you wrong. Eat them all, raw and screaming.” 

His voice became something ancient and inhuman, and Creed turned to him, standing still and silent in contemplation. 

Then, he spoke. “How does it happen?”

Rio smiled, all points and temptation. 

“We welcome you under a full moon,” He said, and Creed assumed he was joking until Rio continued. “Tear you apart and put you back together as a family.” 

An eerie remembrance of screaming, gnawing, and bones breaking under the weight of a hunger darker than that of any mortal beast came to Creed as a sharp stabbing in his temples, and he winced. 

“Sounds painful.” 

“Only until you wake up.” Rio stood, the light reflecting off his damp, tan skin and the chill in the air hardening his nipples. “Then you won’t ever have to worry about pain again.” 

Rio walked over to Creed, sauntering in a way that made his curls sway and his flesh quiver. 

They didn’t say a word to each other as Rio reached up and wrapped his arms around Creed’s neck, pulling him into a kiss deepened by a sudden rush of feral desire that overcame them both. 

Creed lifted Rio effortlessly into his arms and carried him to the bed, his fingers teasing the boy’s softened hole, allowing his brothers’ cum to escape in heavy, thick flows down his knuckles. 

And for a moment, Rio seemed human—he blushed and moaned and gave into the man’s embrace as if he were just another smitten boy yearning for cock. 

Rio tried to turn their kiss into something hungry, but Creed dropped him onto the bed. 

“Why stop?” Rio said, breathless and needy.

“’Cause you need to learn who’s in charge when you’re with me.” Creed’s deep voice sent an unfamiliar shiver down Rio’s spine, one that made his nipples and cock flinch with longing. “I’m not one of your followers, and if I were to accept your offer, I still wouldn’t kneel at your feet because that’s your place.”

Creed exposed his cock, veins throbbing and already dripping with pre-cum. It cast a shadow down Rio’s slut-gazed expression. “You’re the one taking my cock, so don’t get it twisted and open your mouth like the good little bitch you are.”