
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4474865.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Isaac_Lahey/Scott_McCall
  Character:
      Chris_Argent, Scott_McCall, Isaac_Lahey, Peter_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Alpha_Chris, Alpha_Scott_McCall, Omega_Isaac,
      Polyamory, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Due_to_an_arranged_mating_situation,
      Biting, Scent_Marking, Threesome, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Dom/sub_Undertones,
      Rimming, Hand_Jobs, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Allison_Argent_Lives, Angst,
      Ancient_treaties_are_a_bitch, Minor_Peter_Hale/Melissa_McCall_implied, Or
      maybe_petopher_if_you_have_your_goggles_on, Implied/Referenced_Child
      Abuse, Blow_Jobs, Cock_Warming, Frottage, Arranged_Marriage, sorta_-
      Freeform
  Series:
      Part 1 of Arrangements_and_Affiliations
  Collections:
      Polyamorous_Wolf_Exchange_Round_1
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-01 Words: 9214
****** To dwell in place of the breed-heir ******
by Arabwel
Summary
     After the Oni maim Allison Argent, by ancient tradition the pack owes
     the Argents an omega.
     But Scott won't let him go into the lion's den alone.
Notes
     This is an a/b/o fic with the inherent consent issues of heat sex,
     with added forced mating due to an ancient treaty so please proceed
     with caution. More detailed description of issues in the end note.
     Many thanks to Tabris & All my other wonderful folks who looked this
     over!
See the end of the work for more notes
Everything is a blur.
They save Stiles.
Allison lives - barely.
Scott can’t help it, he eavesdrops on Mr. Argent and Dr. Geyer. He doesn’t mean
to, he’s two doors away but his werewolf hearing doesn't let him tune out,
doesn’t let him stop listening to Allison’s faint heartbeat - or the
conversation at her bedside.
Geyer’s voice is calm when he lists the extensive damage she suffered, some of
it permanent. If she wakes up, there will be complications, and even under best
case scenario she will never have children. Scott hates how he makes it sound
like they should just pull the plug on her; after all what use is an omega who
can’t breed?
He tries to tune out the words, Mr. Argent’s gruff acknowledgement, the weary,
steady beat of his heart out of synch with Allison’s. He tries to tune out how
the doctor mentions casually that Chris has options.
All he wants to hear is Allison’s heartbeat.
Beside him, Isaac whines, high and thin, and Scott squeezes his hand.
**
It is well past midnight when Chris leaves the hospital. He walks slowly, still
in a daze, grief and gratitude churning through his weary body. All he wants to
do is sleep, to pass out in the plastic chair next to Allison’s bed, holding
onto her pale, bow-calloused hand.
But he doesn’t get what he wants. He never has.
There is someone waiting for him at his SUV.
“Hale.”
“Argent.” Peter Hale acknowledge him, almost cordially. “She lives, then.”
“Yes.” The but not whole unspoken. It should gall him, that of all the people
it’s Peter Halewho understands. They will be moving Allison to the same
hospital where Peter spent six years trapped inside his own head in the
morning.
The werewolf holds out a hand. “Give me your keys. I’m driving you home.”
It speaks volumes about Chris’ state of mind that he complies, digging the keys
from the pocket of his jeans without a word.
He doesn’t want to talk. He especially does not want to talk about -
“So, when are you taking the boy?”
Chris closes his eyes and leans his head back against the leather headrest.
There’s a pounding at his temples, a deep ache in his bones.
“I don’t want to.”
He doesn’t have to see it to know Hale sneers at him. “So you would doom us all
because, what, you can’t get it up any more? Maybe we should tart him up? If we
shear his hair and dye it red, adorn him with chains and baubles- “
“Shut up.” Even the anger welling up inside Chris is dull, as dull as the ache
as the memory of Victoria brings. It should be appalling, everything Hale has
said, but the bone-deep weariness doesn’t budge. “Just… shut up.”
“You know it is inevitable. Better get it over quickly.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Oh, trust me, Argent, no one is going to like it. Least of all, the boy.”
There is an anger in Hale’s voice, one that should raise Chris’ hackles, the
potential challenge from another alpha egging him on.
“I didn’t write the rules. If there was another way…”
“I could always kill you right now. “ And Chris realizes belatedly they're
going well past the speed limit, the rumble of the engine edging into a roar.
Instantly, Chris knows what Peter is thinking about.
A werewolf would likely walk away from a crash. Human, not so much.
“You’d leave Allison to wake up alone?”
Peter laughs, sharp and brittle.
Chris can hear the steering wheel crack, adrenaline flooding his system. He
opens his eyes and sees they are on the back roads, nowhere near the actual
route from the hospital to his house.
Peter Hale is staring straight ahead, eyes still human-blue, and not unearthly,
and Chris knows he has the wolf. It’s an unsettling knowledge, that the wolf
would not wish to put anyone, even an Argent - albeit one not directly involved
with the fire - through the same abandonment that had cost him both what was
left of his sanity and his niece.
It’s not like Chris can judge, much. He’s the one who cut Laura’s dead body in
half and used her as bait. The blood on their hands is no base for camaraderie,
and yet here they are, the car taking another bend at slightly less breakneck
speed.
They do not speak again until the car pulls up to the building.
“Will you make the arrangements?”
“Who else? My nephew is clueless, and young Mr. McCall even more so. He
willhonor the ways, however. I will see to that.”
Chris nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Argent.”
****
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles is the one who speaks up first, voice
ringing with anger and disbelief.
Isaac doesn’t look at him; he can’t tear his eyes away from the smirking Alpha.
Peter cocks his head before he speaks again. “Why would I do that, Stiles?”
“Because you’re an asshole who enjoys petty cruelty! That’s why, asshole.”
“How repetitive. No insults to my parentage? What about my sexual
proclivities?”
Isaac tunes out the bickering and closes his eyes. What Peter said before
Stiles broke the silence weighs heavy on him, like his lungs are full of lead.
We took their heir. We owe recompense, else they - and by they I mean hunters
at large, not Argent - have the full right to put us all down.
We owe them an unbred omega.
“There has to be something we can do,” Scott says plaintively, tightening his
grip on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac fights the urge to lean into the Alpha’s touch
but he can’t help it; he leans back into Scott, letting the Alpha’s scent and
warmth surround him. He had almost dared to hope but the sinking feeling at the
pit of his stomach tells him, he doesn’t get to have good things.
“What if we were mated?” Scott’s voice is filled with hope and his grip of
Isaac tightens a fraction, one strong arm coming to wrap around the omega’s
waist.
Peter shakes his head. “Then he’d have claim to the both of you, since we do
not have any unmated omegas who have not borne children in the pack: So, unless
you want to find another omega to bite and claim for the pack, and to arrange
them to be your sacrificial lamb instead…?” Peter’s eyes are cold when he
speaks. “It has been done, before. It is within the rules.”
The way he puts it, it sounds like something evenPeter finds distasteful. No
wonder the idea makes Isaac shudder, too.
Scott growls, deep and possessive. “No. We’ll figure out - something.”
Isaac blinks slowly. It could be worse. It’s easier if they just get over it
and stop trying to delay the inevitable. They wouldn’t be here if not for him.
Allison would still be awake, be whole if he hadn’t -
It still hurts to shrug off Scott’s grip, to take a step aside. “I’ll do it.”
he can’t look up, can’t look Scott in the eye. “Not like he’s gonna lock me in
a freezer.” He shrugs, almost casual. “Bad for breeding.”
“Then I will go with you!”
**
Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like the headache is never going
to end. He’s spent hours at the hospital, just sitting by Allison’s bedside,
listening to the steady beep of the monitors and her thready breath. Trying to
not to think about how cool her skin was under his touch, the stillness in her
body.
If he still knew how to pray, he doesn’t know if he’d pray for her to wake up
or to sleep until all of this is over. Until he’s had the wergild from the
wolves and - well. Chris is not the kind of man who would separate an omega
from it’s babe, but he also has no illusions that Isaac would wish to stick
around once his duty was done. McCall would be pining after him every step of
the way, no doubt, and the thought he'd have to fend off an inevitable
challenge from another alpha - this one, a werewolf - was not a pleasant one.
“Penny for your thoughts, Argent?”
“How long I will have to wait before McCall issues a challenge?” he admits to
Hale without preamble. The and screws up the whole reconciliationunsaid.
Hale smiles, slow and satisfied like the cat who got both the canary and the
cream delivered to his doorstep. “Oh, didn’t you know? McCall is offering
himself up as well.”
Chris blinks. “He - does he have any idea what he is doing?”
“He doesn’t want to abandon Isaac. How noble of him. And sensible - it is not
like the rest of those he acknowledges as his are wolves, so there is no pack
dissolution or succession to consider.” Hale’s words are almost glib.
Chris almost wonders, what about Derek, but he knows the familial bond the
young wolf has with his uncle will keep him from going off the rails. After
all, neither one of them acknowledges it, but Chris is well aware of the power
Peter regained from Blake.
“What about Melissa?” he asks instead. She’s an omega, and with Scott leaving
her household, people will talk. A lone omega with no familial Alpha will set
tongues wagging even in this day and age, and he is certain Scott would want to
protect her from any ill consequences. There were other be options, of course,
but he finds the idea of bringing both the boy and his mother to his house
distasteful.
Hale’s grin is diabolical. “She is amenable to an arrangement of convenience.”
“With you.”
“With me.” Hale’s voice is so full of satisfaction, Chris’ hands itch with the
urge to shut him up, to wipe the smirk off his face. He looks supremely
unconcerned, even as he continues. “In time, she might even be.. amenable to
something more.”
Chris shakes his head. “If she is, good for you. If she is not…” he doesn’t
have to elaborate.
“Please. Like I would do anything untoward.” The with my sanity intactstays
unsaid.
Chris should be worried about how easily they get along, about having a wolf in
his house. But he needs to get used to wolves in his house, doesn’t he? Soon,
both Isaac and Scott will be skulking around, trying to fit themselves in;
they’re just lucky he’s dismissed most of his hunters.
With a deep sigh, Chris takes another sip of the expensive whiskey the wolf
brought along with the news of Scott’s decision. It’s a harkening to the old
days, a gesture Chris appreciates as the smooth burn leaves behind a soothing
warmth.
“Even so, logistics are going to be a bitch.”
Hale smiles slowly. “That’s what I am here for, Argent.”
****
Peter says there are traditions they should be following. Gifts they should be
bringing. Words that should be spoken. After all, it is tradition that brings
them here, old treaties, old laws.
All Isaac has is a backpack that’s seen better days and he’s not feeling
particularly chatty. Well, the backpack and Scott, standing resolute right next
to him.
He wishes he was alone. That Scott didn’t feel the need to drag himself into
this. It’s his fault, anyway - Allison was cut down trying to save him, not
Scott. And he can take it. Whatever Argent has to throw at him, it can’t be
worse than - can’t be worse than the freezer. Or the belt. Or his heats, spent
in the freezer.
It’s as if Scott can read his mind; he reaches out to touch Isaac, to pull his
head down so they’re eye to eye.
“Hey it’s okay,” Scott says softly. “I won’t - he won’t hurt you.”
Isaac’s breath catches in his throat and he knows he’s blinking, knows there’s
a part of him that wants to cry. Because he believes Scott, believes the alpha,
his alpha would put himself between Isaac and Mr. Argent in a blink. Has
already, in some convoluted wolf politics maneuver.
Hunters have politics and traditions, too. That is why they’re here, now,
having shown up at midnight on a new moon, to be met by a tired Mr. Argent who
brought them in and told them to rest. Brought them here, to this room, where
they are sitting on the soft duvet that still smells of Allison. Some of her
things have been boxed, a space made in the wardrobe but none of it makes it
better. Makes it feel any less like a sacrilege.
Isaac blinks again and then he’s crying, curled up against Scott’s chest,
wetting the alpha’s shirt with hot tears and snot. He hates how weak he is
being, how he’s dragging Scott along.
“You shouldn't have,” he whispers, “I can take it.” It probably wouldn't even
be too bad. Mr. Argent is hot, for an older guy. He could just close his eyes
and think of -
“I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”
***
Scott knows his words are not really getting through to Isaac, but the omega
quiets slowly and Scott thinks he might have fallen asleep, cradled in Scott’s
arms. The fabric of his shirt is damp and sticky, rubbing uncomfortably but
Scott is not going to move, not going to disturb Isaac.
He shifts, lifting his head and he can feel his eyes flash red. He should be
the one paying the price for Allison. He’s the one to blame for was happened to
her, but he can’t take her place. can’t take Isaac’s place as - as a wergild.
He’s an alpha, manifested as one early, well before Stiles showed his beta
parents bred true. Even before, when he was still a beta on wolf terms, almost
an omega, he would not have been able to do what Isaac can, what Allison could
have before the Oni.
Scott knows what Isaac’s dad did to him, how it got... worse, after his mom
left, after Camden. And he is not going to let Mr. Argent take out his grief on
Isaac. He’ll -
Scott doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know if Mr. Argent is into
alphas, if what people will say now that Scott’s moved in about him going Greek
is true. At the same time he knows no one bats an eyelash at Isaac, how it’s
just so normal for an omega with no family to move into the house of an alpha
old enough to be his -
Harley would have so much to say about it, he thinks. He hasn’t seen her in
forever, and he doesn’t think he will, either. Part of him wonders if Mr.
Argent will let them finish school, go to college. Or if he just wants the
exact letter of the agreement.
Peter had told them Argent wasn’t vengeful. That he was not out for his pound
of flesh, but that he couldn’t get out of this tradition, either. And both
Derek and Deaton say Peter is right, that he’s not exaggerating any of this for
his own gain. What would he gain from this? Scott’s pack won’t become his
magically, just because Peter is the one wolf Alpha in vicinity. He even
offered to fake-date Scott’s mom to keep people from talking after Scott moves
out.
Scott’s pretty sure his mom said no. Hopefully.
Isaac twitches and Scott tightens his hold. He is thinking too much, they
should - they should lay down and go to sleep.
In Allison’s bed.
*****
The boys are curled up together on the floor when Chris walks in. They both
look up, blinking away sleep from heavy eyes.
In the light of the early morning, they look vulnerable and innocent, but not
like children. That, at least, is in Chris’ favor. Taking in Isaac's pale skin
stretched over long limbs and Scott’s soft, plush mouth, he thinks he might be
able to do this without forcing himself to close his eyes and think of -
someone more suitable. He’d never disgrace the memory of his wife.
He knows they still have time. Isaac won’t have a heat for a little while
longer barring being hastened by proximity to not one but two alphas on a
regular basis. He would prefer to take the boy before the heat, though, to make
it less... overwhelming for all parties involved. If Isaac were in heat, it
might trigger a rut in both himself and Scott, which could have unfortunate
consequences. He’d rather not have to lock the young alpha up for the duration
of Isaac’s heat, but he would if necessary. Even though it would be beyond
cruel to take Isaac with Scott forced to watch while trapped in a rut, as he’d
chosen to hand himself over alongside Isaac, he would have to be present.
There is a part of him that would not object to Scott - participating. He’s
rutted with his share of other alphas over the years, the understanding that
what happened on hunts had no bearing to what happens at home clear and strong
between him and Victoria. And now that he’s allowing, he’s making himself to
think about it, well…
Chris would not mind putting his mouth on the strip of skin that’s exposed when
Scott yawns, his shirt riding high. Not at all.
He knows youth and werewolf constitution has protected both boys from the ills
of sleeping on the floor for a night, but this is not a sustainable situation.
But neither can he make himself strip the bed.
“There’s breakfast in the kitchen;” he says, more gruff than intended. Isaac
flinches, and for a moment there is a standstill - Scott stiffens, like he
doesn’t know why, and Isaac’s eyes flick down to the floor, like he’s
expecting, well, like he’s expecting to be hit, only Chris can’t parse why he’d
think -
It hits him, then, and it makes him feel queasy. “We will discuss the.. extent
of your duties later.”
With that, Chris turns on his heel and retreats into his office, all appetite
gone.
*****
Scott didn’t know what he expected to find in the kitchen, but he’s pretty sure
that two plates wrapped in tin foil with thick Spanish omelettes full of
potatoes and ham is not it. There’s a bowl of fruit, too, washed and cut, and a
jug of orange juice.
“Huh.” Isaac says softly, almost fearfully as he takes it all in. “He’s
certainly got standards.”
Scott reaches out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “At least the napkins
aren’t the real cloth ones?” He says, as he pulls up a chair at the breakfast
bar. He’s ravenous, not having eaten the night before, stomach in knots with
anticipation. He knows Isaac is much the same and they both dig in with gusto.
There is a third place setting, but Mr. Argent doesn’t join them. Isaac’s eyes
keep flitting to the door, even though they both know they should be able to
hear him if he heads over.
“So what do you think he meant by extent?” Scott finally asks as he drains the
last dregs of his juice and sets the glass down with a clink against the marble
top.
Isaac shrugs, a look of resignation on his face. “Probably how often he’ll want
me to bend over in between scrubbing bloodstains from his shirts.”
The way Isaac says it makes Scott literally see red. He’s lucky he’s not
holding the glass any more, because they'd be scrubbing blood off the
countertop. It’s not fair that Isaac is so resigned, that he thinks it won’t be
too bad, that any of this is gonna be okay. That Isaac doesn’t think that -
that being sold off, whored out to save them all doesn’t matter.
It’s only when Isaac’s mouth falls open but no words come out he realizes he’s
said that out loud, that he’s practically shouting.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I…”
“I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down, Scott,” Mr. Argent’s voice
surprises him.
Scott moves to face him, to put himself between Argent and Isaac. He bristles,
thinking that if Stiles was here he’d snap off some comment about how he would
appreciate Mr. Argent not raping Isaac but Scott isn’t Stiles. He doesn't want
to throw it in Isaac’s face, what is going to happen.
There are dark circles under Argent’s eyes; he looks tired and old, and it’s
not just the silver-dominated beard he now sports. But he’s still a hunter,
still an alpha and Scott is challenging him in his own house after - well it’s
not like he swore loyalty or anything, but close.
Slowly, Argent uncrosses his arms and moves from where he’s leaning on the
doorjamb to stand in the kitchen proper. Every move is unhurried and measured,
and there’s a part of Scott that is - not bending, not bowing, but
acknowledging he’s made his bed. He’s given his word, to come with Isaac and
not challenge.
Isaac is the one to break the silence. “So only the torture chamber is sound
proof?”
Argent looks pained for a moment, but the tension dissipates, just a little.
“There is no torture chamber here, Isaac.”
From the corner of his eye Scott can see the mulish tilt of Isaac’s head, the
twist of his mouth that makes the alpha think Isaac is goading a reaction. “So
that’s off the premises, then?”
“I would rather not discuss torture first thing in the morning, Isaac.”
Argent’s voice is surprisingly gentle, low with the weight of the things Scott
knows they have to talk about.
“You know he doesn’t want this.”Scott says.
Argent sighs and raises a hand, very slowly, to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“I am well aware of that, Scott. I also know the only reason you are here is
because youchose to come along.”
Scott remembers what Deaton had said. About - going along with Isaac meaning.
Subjecting himself to the Argent family. Like he’s some kind of a - he’s not a
fucking dog, he saw the book, he saw the illustrations from the 18th century
with the werewolves in collars and leashes, baying for blood. Chris is within
his rights now to demand Scott hunts by his side, to keep Isaac safe. To keep
Scott’s pack safe.
There’s a small part of his brain that’s saying they aren't a pack any more,
that this has been a dissolution, everything just dust in the wind. Because
Scott didn’t bite anyone in his pack, because there are no wolves left outside
who’d call him Alpha and mean it.
Only, he still feels them - feels the tug that is Stilesand theLydia, the
Derek, and even the strange inside-out twist that is feelingPeterat the very
edge of his senses. Allison is there, too, like an ember in need of tending,
faint and waiting to burst into flame to rival the brightness of his bond with
Isaac.
He doesn’t want to think about how he’s starting to feel Chris, too, and how
that bond reminds him more of how he’d first felt towards Peter in the woods
than anything else.
Scott can almost taste the tension in the air, the Alpha pheromones from
Argent, Isaac’s fear… except, Isaac no longer smells afraid. It takes Scott a
moment to place the smell, unused to it from Isaac, but when he does, he twists
to stare at Isaac, just as Argent does.
Isaac shrugs. “What, I’m not supposed to get wet with two hot alphas posturing
over me?”
***
Two sets of eyes lock onto him and Isaac can feel another flood of heat at the
pit of his belly. Yeah he’s definitely wet, the last few minutes of
antagonistic tension between his alpha and... his alpha is really working for
him.
The sound Argent makes is not quite a growl as his blue eyes rake over Isaac,
the weight of his gaze making his skin tingle. This is how pornos start, Isaac
thinks even as he licks his lips, cants his hips. There’s an urge at the back
of his skull to turn away, to bare his throat and present, back arched and ass
high in the air so whoever wins the fight gets to claim him.
He almost expects them both to stalk forward, to grab him, to scent him but the
way Argent reins himself in is visible, his nostrils flaring even as his
shoulders tense and he takes a step back.
“I came in to let you two know I will be gone for a few hours,” Argent’s voice
is rough and low, velvet and sandpaper, and it sends another shiver of pleasure
down Isaac’s spine. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of it wash over him.
He’s not too proud to admit that hearing Argent’s thinly veiled that about guns
had done nothing to douse his arousal when -
The memory of Allison sobers him up quickly; Isaac lowers his head and nods,
doesn’t look up, doesn’t open his eyes in fear of spilling out fresh tears.
“I expect you both to behave,” Mr. Argent’s voice is lower, softer, and Isaac
hates how it still makes him feel hot all over. “Get this cleaned up, and we’ll
discuss further arrangements when I come back.”
Isaac doesn’t look up until he can hear the front door not quite slamming shut.
Scott is there, a concerned frown on his face, but he’s still flushed, still
looking at Isaac like -
“Are you okay?” Scott asks, voice husky and full of concern. He reaches out to
cup Isaac’s cheek, and Isaac can’t help it, he leans into the touch and sighs.
“Y-yeah.”
“You know you don’t have to - to like it.”
Isaac licks his lips. “Maybe I like it - like you. You don’t have to be here,
either.”
The air around them grows thick and Isaac can feel the pricking on his skin
again, the surge of warmth at the base of his spine.
“But I want to,” Scott says.
Isaac doesn’t reply with words but when Scott kisses him he parts his lips,
soft and eager.
***
The camp beds are the best Chris can do for now. It’s close enough to breaking
the spirit of the old ways to have Isaac and Scott in Allison’s room, rather
than in his own bed, but it is still within the letter. To dwell in place of
the breed-heir.The thought of just what would have been expected of him, of
Allisonin the old days is not one he welcomes, so he pushes it firmly aside.
He tells the boys he doesn't expect hospital corners, but he does expect them
to make their bed in the mornings. That there is an equitable division of
chores, just like there had been when he’d shared the apartment with his
daughter. (He doesn't bring up Victoria, doesn’t bring up the old house.)
There is no mention of the heavy scent of musk and arousal, the dazed look on
Scott’s face, how swollen and slick Isaac’s lips still are. Chris knows that
they both know what the consequences are if Scott were to mount Isaac, to
deprive Chris of his right - his duty - to be the first and only to breed the
boy. He is not unaffected, but to him self-control has always been paramount,
honed by decades of training. Even so, the scent of another alpha, the
undeniable knowledge that Scott has had his hands on Isaac is hard to bear.
He looks at Scott when he curls a broad hand around Isaac’s neck and pulls the
omega to him. Scott’s eyes stay stubborn brown even if he tenses visibly when
Isaac relaxes against Chris’s chest, his scent wafting up in another warm wave
as Chris twines his fingers in the golden curls and tilts the boy’s head to the
side.
Isaac moans oh so prettily when Chris swipes his tongue along pale skin,
tasting sweat and excitement, leaving behind raw red marks from his beard as he
finds the perfect spot. At the junction of neck and shoulder he bites down
hard, hard enough to make Isaac whine high in his throat as Chris worries the
flesh in his teeth.
The mark might not remain in place for long, with the werewolf healing factor.
But the memory of it will remain for a long, long time.
***
It doesn't take long for Isaac to realize he’s starting to show symptoms. His
heat isn’t due for another three, maybe four weeks, but the wetness in his
boxers when he wakes up tells a different story. His nipples feel achy and raw,
and not just because Scott is so fascinated by them, by how easily they plump
up under his touch, pebble on his tongue, even if they haven’t really gone past
groping and making out.
Scott could leave marks but doesn’t; he is always so gentle, it almost makes
Isaac wanna scream sometimes. He remembers the casual way Mr. Argent manhandled
him, the sharp spike of pain from the bite that healed away in minutes, leaving
behind a phantom ache.
Isaac still bares his neck every time they are in the same room; he can smell
the satisfaction in the alpha, sees the way his eyes darken in approval. But he
hasn’t bitten Isaac again, has casually mentioned how he doesn't want to push.
But now that Isaac is standing in the shower, two fingers buried inside his
aching hole and his heart hammering in his chest he wants to be pushed. He
wants more, wants to be filled, wants to - he just wants, okay? The images that
flash through him are a mixed jumble, memories of Scott’s soft kisses and
Chris’s rough stubble, strong arms gripping his shoulders and gentle hands on
his hips. He can feel the arousal bubbling inside him, can feel how his hips
are canting at their own volition as he leans against the shower wall, rocking
between the fingers in his ass and the tight clutch of his hand.
He doesn't bother being quiet; he knows both his alphas can smell him, can
smell exactly what he is doing in here. He doesn’t know, part of him doesn't
even care which one of them is going to open the door and -
Isaac comes with a cry, body clenching hard around his fingers. Even as he
pulls them out he can feel another flood of slick, a wave of not-quite
dizziness overtaking as he watches his come swirling down the drain. His dick
has gone soft, but he thinks it’ll swell up again soon, and there’s no denying
how loose his hips feel, how empty.
The towel is no worse than it has been before, the fancy egyptian cotton better
than he’s used to, but it feels rough on his skin. Not unbearable, but another
sure sign that he’s not just horny, he’s -
“Isaac?” It’s Chris’ gruff voice that interrupts his musings. It sends a shiver
down his spine and Isaac closes his eyes for a moment before he answers.
“Yes?”
“Are you - are you all right?”
Isaac swallows hard. There is no denying what's gonna happen now. Peter had
beenveryexplicit in describing both the old treaty and the consequences of what
will happen if they don’t follow this to the letter. There are a lot of people
with grudges out there who’d take advantage of a breach to swoop in and start
shooting. It’s Isaac’s first heat - or maybe a pseudo heat, but he doesn’t know
if that matters, just knows he probably counts asripe - and he’s going to bend
over and get bred.
The idea shouldn’t make him flood with slick but it does, he’s getting wetter,
feeling emptier by the minute. He closes his eyes and drops the towel.
“Isaac, I am going to open the door.” Chris warns him, and Isaac can’t help it,
he whines high in his throat the moment the door parts a fraction and the scent
ofalpha floods his senses. His nipples harden further as the cool air hits
them, high and tight on his chest as he bares his neck for his alpha.
***
Chris holds back a curse as he watches Isaac bare his neck. He fights the urge
to just stalk forward and claim right then and there, to take advantage of
isaac’s nudity and take him on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.
Isaac is gorgeous, pale skin stretched over lean muscle, wet golden curls
framing the face of an angel, and even though the blue eyes are closed for now,
Chris knows they will be dilated, almost all of the blue swallowed by black in
arousal. Because Isaac is aroused, the heavy scent of his slick, his
heatfilling up the small room.
Behind him there’s a crash; Chris spins around teeth bared even though he knows
there is only one person it can be, that the scent of another alpha is already
telling him it’s Scott.
Scott is not wolfed out but his eyes glow red; his bare chest is heaving and
Chris can plainly see how the boy’s erection is already straining his shorts.
There’s a soft gleam of sweat on Scott’s skin and even as intent as he is on
breeding Isaac, Chris can’t help but imagine putting his tongue in the dips of
the young alpha’s hips, making him squirm. Beg. Submit.
With deliberate slowness, he turns back to Isaac; Isaac’s eyes are wide and
just as lust-blown as he’d thought, the boy’s body shivering with tension. When
Chris’s eyes met his, Isaac shudders almost violently and the scent of his
wetness grows stronger, a bead of slick running down the inside of his knee.
Fuck, Chris wants to put his mouth on him. On them both.
“Come here, Isaac,” he says quietly.
Isaac obeys, taking small, tentative steps out of the bathroom. Chris doesn’t
move out of the way, doesn't take his eyes off Isaac but keeps Scott at the
periphery of his vision. If the boy gets out of hand, he has a lot of steps he
can take, precautions he’s made, but the knowledge that Scott Mccall is a
werewolf true Alpha is why Chris hasn't gone for the horse tranquilizers
already.
Isaac folds against his body like someone cut his strings, needy moans spilling
from his lips as he starts to rub himself against Chris’ still clothed body.
The denim should be harsh against the boy’s sensitive skin but Isaac doesn't
seem to care, pink cock leaving trails of precome all over Chris’ jeans.
Chris is far from unaffected, but he’s pretty certain he’s not going into full
blown rut here even as he wraps his arms around Isaac, grips the boy’s slim
hips with his hands.
“Isaac,” he says, voice soft but loud enough for scott to hear without
straining. “I - we are going to take you to bed now. Do you understand?”
Isaac nods frantically, burying his face in Chris’ neck and inhaling deeply.
The answer, a mumbled yes, alpha is almost inaudible.
But it’s loud enough to make Scott growl.
***
Scott’s vision swims red as he watches Isaac catting against Chris - watches
his omega rub against another alpha, rub his scent all over Chris. His nose is
full of the scent of a ripe omega, of slick and heat, something he
instinctively recognizes even though he’s never experienced it before, never
experienced anything like this before.
Mingled with Isaac’s enticement is the strong, almost harsh scent of another
alpha, of Chris, a scent Scott thought he’d become inured to in the past few
days but he’s not - it riles him up further, makes his hackles rise, his dick
harder.
Chris looks him straight in the eye and Scott finds himself fighting the urge
to flinch, to bare his teeth in response, to - to challenge. Even with the lust
coursing through his veins, he’s still aware enough to know he can’t, that if
he does, all of their lives will be forfeit.
“Lead the way, Scott,” Chris says in that low register Scott doesn’t know what
to associate with any more, just knows it makes his heartbeat speed up, his
mouth go dry. “We’re taking him to bed.”
To Chris’ bed. Scott knows that’s the only way this is going to happen, that
there's no way they’ll do this in - he pushes the thought aside with
ruthlessness he doesn't know he possesses and nods, not trusting himself to
speak.
It is hard, so hard to turn his back to Isaac and Chris, as if he were trying
to push through mountain ash again. But he does it. He turns away and goes to
the door, down the hall, to where the door to Chris’ bedroom is already - not
fully closed.
He pushes it all the way open and steps inside. He’s never been in here before
but it’s just a room, the bed made with military precision. On the bedside
table, there are two photos and that’s where Scott goes first, picking up the
heavy silver frames and turning them away from the bed. Because he can’t do
this with - can’t do this with Allison and her mom looking on.
“Thank you,” Chris says with unexpected softness form behind him and Scott
turns around to look at him, to look at Isaac.
Chris has Isaac in his arms, bridal carry style, Isaac’s face still buried in
his neck to hide the needy little whimpers. LIke this, Scott can see a trail of
slick between Isaac’s legs, the backs of his thighs shiny with it and the sight
of it takes his breath away.
“Get on the bed, Scott.” Chris’ words surprise him. Scott doesn’t know what he
expected, though - he’s been afraid that when the time would come he’d be
chained up somewhere, locked up, unable to help Isaac, to protect him, to
touchhim. Even now he thought maybe Chris would tell him to go sit in the
chair, to keep quiet and just watch helplessly - not get on the bed.
Chris voice is sharper now. “I do not want to repeat myself, Scott. On the
bed.”
“Yes, alpha,” Scott says and his eyes widen at the salutation that passed his
lips. But it is accurate, under the terms of this - thing, Chris is his alpha
as much as he hates to admit it.
Chris rumbles with satisfaction as Scott scampers on the bed, sitting up
against the headboard: he’s flushed, and part of him wants to pull up his knees
to try to hide just how affected he is. How hard, how his boxers are already
soaked through with precome.
“Good boy.” Chris smirks when he walks up to the bed, helps Isaac on his hands
and knees, facing Scott.
Scott can’t tear his eyes away from Isaac. He’s never before been this close to
an omega in heat, has never before seen anyone like this, seen Isaac like this.
So full of want and begging to be knotted, the ripe, heady scent clinging to
his every breath as Isaac sways closer, so close he’s almost in Scott’s lap.
“Go ahead,” Chris’ voice is smug; in his peripheral vision, Scott can see Chris
is pulling off his shirt, and wow, even when faced with Isaac in heat Scott
can’t help but gasp at the sight. He’d thought under all the layers there’d be
- not this, not pure wiry muscle, a smattering of silver hair and scars that
shouldn’t make Scott’s mouth water, shouldn’t make his dick throb.
The next words surprise him.
“You can kiss.”
Scott surges forward to meet Isaac’s hungry lips without a moment's hesitation.
**
Isaac feels like he can’t breathe, like wrapping himself around Scott, going
pliant under Scott’s devouring kisses is too much, but it’s not enough. He
tries to pull Scott closer, but he can’t move his arms, his hands pinned to the
bed by the iron grip on his wrists.
He feels like he is burning from the inside out, the heady scent of alpha - of
alphas filling his nose, so thick he can taste it in Scott’s insistent kisses,
with every lungful of heated air. He’s been having heats since he was twelve,
but this is the first time he’s - first time he’s been touched, first time he’s
going to be bred.
The bed dips and Isaac keens, breaking away from the kiss when he arches his
back, tries to hitch his hips higher, splay his legs wider. He can feel the
slick running down his legs, dripping from the inside of his knee to soak into
the soft sheets.
“So good,” Chris’ hoarse voice scrapes over Isaac’s nerves, leaving fire in its
wake. “You’re such a good boy, Isaac.”
Isaac whines when Chris touches him, broad palms hot on his hips. For a moment
he feels almost trapped between the two alphas, between Scott’s grip of his
wrists and the hunter’s heavy hands. But only for a moment - Chris’s thumbs
stroke over the top of his ass, teasing, sending another wave of heat through
his body, another flood of slick pooling in his hole and Isaac only wants.
“So good,” Scott echoes Chris’ words, leaning forward to touch their foreheads
together. Isaac opens his eyes - when did he close them? - and stares at Scott,
his fervent breathing filling his lungs with alpha musk, with warmth and Scott.
****
Chris inhales deeply at the sight of Scott's tongue lapping at Isaac’s slack
lips, both of their mouths red and kiss-swollen. He thinks about that tongue
elsewhere, thinks about those mouths wrapped around his cock, sliding in just
the tip for them to kiss around. Later.
Isaac’s heat-slick skin is intoxicating and Chris groans when he slides his
hands over Isaac’s ass, spreading the pale flesh to reveal the boy’s pink hole,
wet and inviting. Part of him wants to rear up and shuck off his jeans, to
drive his cock into Isaac and knot him, but he’s not in a rut yet, and he still
has the presence of mind to acknowledge that his gorgeous creature in his bed
is a virgin omega in his first proper heat.
Chris chuckles when Isaac moans, trying to tilt his hips further, to push into
Chris’ touch. Chris leans forward and takes a deep breath, filling his lungs
with Isaac's omega arousal. Scott’s scent on him is a surprisingly pleasing
counterpoint, strong but not harsh. Not an intrusion or a threat.
Isaac yowls at the first touch of Chris’ tongue on his wet hole, lapping up the
shiny slick. The taste is intoxicating and Isaac trembles under his hands as
Chris runs his tongue over heated, swollen flesh, his beard rubbing the skin
raw time and time again even as Isaac squirms and wails, desire ratcheting
higher.
Chris can easily slide two fingers into Isaac and lick between them, push his
tongue into the omega’s rippling hole. He could do this for hours, used to -
has done it before, but he knows Isaac needs to be knotted, needs to be bred.
He flicks his eyes over Isaac’s pale back and sees Scott staring over the boy’s
shoulder, an arm wrapped around Isaac to hold him in place. He’s lifted his
other hand to brush away tears from Isaac’s face, the fingers glistening when
he wipes them on the sheets. Scott’s eyes are glued to where Chris’s fingers
disappear into Isaac’s body, where his tongue has left streaks of drying spit
on his skin.
Isaac whines when Chris pulls his fingers out with one last lick to the boy’s
leaking hole. He lifts his hand, holds his fingers covered in Isaac’s slick
right in front ot Scott. The young alpha has to only lean forward a fraction to
get a taste, nostrils flaring from the scent.
“Go on,” Chris encourages, voice low and raspy. His tongue feels thick and
heavy in his mouth, still coated with Isaac's arousal.
Scott surges forward, wrapping a hand around Chris’ wrist, pulling the hand to
his mouth and moaning eagerly. Again, Chris thinks about putting that mouth to
a better use as Scott's tongue twines around his fingers, tries to chase every
last trace of Isaac, sucking the digits into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.
When Chris pulls his hand away Scott whines and looks surprised at himself,
dark eyes widening almost comically. Chris laughs softly and reaches out to
brush a sweat-soaked curl from Scott’s face. “That’s it,” he says softly.
Between them, Isaac squirms impatiently. “Alpha,” he whines, “Either one, I’m -
“ he shudders and gasps, “Not picky - ”
That Isaac’s bratty streak would show when he is in heat doesn't surprise
Chris. He knows better than to spank the omega for it, instead he moves to
twine his fingers into Isaac’s hair, to yank his head to the side so he can
trace lips and tongue over the tendons of his throat before he bites down hard.
Isaac wails and thrashes, but he’s held snug between Chris and Scott, both sets
of hands now covering the squirming omega as Chris starts to nip a path down
Isaac’s spine, nipping and licking at the too-pronounced knobs.
There’s a slurping sound and Chris looks up to see that Scott is licking
Isaac’s neck, tracing the marks Chris’ teeth left with his mouth but not
biting, not trying to replace. Maybe it’s the wolf alpha’s touch, but the marks
aren’t healing as fast as they should, still standing livid on Isaac’s pale
skin. Dark satisfaction surges inside Chris, a bolt of heat rushing down his
spine to pool at his crotch. He’s so fucking hard, he can feel precome staining
the denim already, and thinks if he’s this close to his tether, then Scott must
be in agony.
Just then their hands meet over the flat planes of Isaac’s stomach, Scott’s
hands trailing down from pinching the plump nipples, Chris’ nails raking softly
over Isaac’s ribs. Chris takes hold of Scott’s hand as he looks up, looks Scott
in the eye when he slowly draws their joined hands down to where Isaac’s slim
cock nestles amidst blond curls.
“Gonna make sure you can take me” Chris says almost conversationally as their
fingers wrap around Isaac. Both Isaac and Scott are trembling, breath coming in
hitched pants. Isaac’s eyes are closed and he’s swaying on his knees while
Scott’s eyes flick between Isaac’s upturned face and Chris’.
“Come for us, baby,” he urges Isaac quietly, “Give it up.”
Mere moments later, Isaac’s breath catches in his throat just as Scott’s palm
cups the head of his dick and he comes with a wild, inhuman noise, thrashing in
their hold. Chris can smell the flood of come, the flood of slick as Isaac’s
empty hole convulses around nothing, knows the omega’s hunger for being knotted
is fever-bright by now.
He pulls his hand away and wipes the thin white splatter on Isaac’s neck, on
top of the bite marks. Scott stares at it, mouth hanging open and for a moment
Chris wonders if Scott came in his pants but there’s no acrid smell of alpha
spunk in the air.
Slowly, Scott pulls his own hand up and brings it to Isaac’s lips. The omega
laps at his own come eagerly, moaning around the fingers even before Scott
leans in to share the taste, licking and sucking on Isaac’s mouth just as much
as he is on his own fingers.
Again, Chris is reminded of how much he wants those mouths on his cock and
knows he needs to fuck Isaac now.
He groans in relief when he undoes the fly of his jeans, his cock springing
free already sticky with precome. He shoves the denim off the rest of the way
and kneels up behind Isaac, steadying himself with a hand on the omega's hip.
Isaac is a gorgeous sight; his long, lean body covered in a thin sheen of
sweat, long legs splayed to reveal his dripping hole in perfect lordosis, ass
up high and back arched to show both his ass and neck, scent deep and alluring.
The fact that he’s nestled against Scott, the young alpha’s dark musk mingling
in with Isaac’s sweetness, only makes it better, makes them both his.
“Hold him, Scott,” he says, voice dangerously soft.
“Yes, Alpha,” Scott breathes and Chris can see how Scott adjusts his hold, how
Isaac’s arms around Scott’s waist grip tighter. How Scott’s eyes flash red when
he lowers his eyes.
Chris runs a hand over Isaac’s thigh, hisses when he slicks his cock up
quickly, the stimulation after so long almost too much. He knows he won’t last
long, not when he can already feel the faint stirrings of his knot coming in.
Isaac is running hot, a werewolf in heat and the way he feels against the tip
of Chris’ cock is obscene, slick and hot, his hole mouthing at the tip trying
to pull it in. Before he can stop himself, Chris’ hips jerk forward, sliding in
just the tip.
“Just the tip, baby,” Chris says roughly. “Are you ready for my cock, Isaac?
Are you ready for my knot?”
Isaac whines brokenly, body trembling all over, and Chris can feel more slick
pooling at the tip of his cock. There’s a hitch in Isaac’s breath, a soft gasp
from Scott and then Isaac gets the words out.
“Please, Alpha.. give it to me. Knot me.”
With a growl more befitting a werewolf, Chris cleaves into Isaac.
*****
Isaac’s eyes are black pools of lust and Scott can’t tear his gaze away.
The omega is gasping and moaning, face slack with pleasure as Chris drives into
him, broad hands clutching his hips hard enough for bruises to bloom and heal
and darken again and all Scott can do is to hang on for dear life. He can taste
Isaac in the air, can taste Chris. The air is heavy with pheromones and sweat,
the sweet tang of Isaac’s slick and alpha musk.
Scott fights the urge to hitch his hips up, to rub his still-clothed cock
against Isaac’s chest, heedless of the chafe of soaked through fabric. He’s so
hard it hurts, he can feel it, feel how his knot is already bulging out a
little even though he hasn’t touched himself at all.
He meets Chris’ eyes over Isaac’s shoulder; the startling near-supernatural
blue takes his breath away and Scott instinctively tilts his head, bares his
neck. The hunter looks surprised for a split second before he growls an surges
forward, grabbing Scott by the hair bad pulling him into a hungry kiss.
It’s nothing like any kiss he’s ever had before, the scent of another alpha
filling his nose, the harsh bristle of Chris’ beard against his cheeks. Scott
moans into the kiss, his hold on Isaac tightening as Chris systematically takes
him apart, bringing Scott to the brink of popping his knot in his boxers
without a hand on him. It’s like Chris knows, because that’s when he pulls
away, lets go of Scott’s hair.
Breathless and lips tingling with beard burn, Scott feels almost helpless
watching Chris fuck into Isaac, watching the omega arch up and keen deep in his
throat, the mixture of and pleases blurring into unintelligible wails. Scott
lets go of Isaac, hands coming to clutch the sheets as his vision flashes red,
terrified that he’s going to pop his claws and not his knot and hurt Isaac.
“Gonna knot you now, Isaac,” Chris’ voice is velvet-rough and Scott echoes
Isaac’s whimper. “Gonna pump you full of my come, breed you up. Lock you tight,
make sure it takes.”
Chris’s hips still and Scott swears he can tell the moment the alpha pops his
knot - Isaac’s eyes widen but no sound comes from him, his entire body going
taut like a b - going taut. Isaac’s cock stands up against his belly, drooling
precome and it makes Scott think of the pornos he’s seen, only if this was a
porno with two alphas and an omega he’d be knotting Isaac’s mouth now, not
thinking about -
Scott leans forward to take isaac in his mouth just in time, getting his mouth
full of Isaac’s watery come. He swallows it eagerly as Isaac moans and writhes
on Chris’ knot, the feel of it flexing on his tongue amazing.
There’s a hand on his hair, too big to be Isaac’s.
“Good boy,” Chris’ is finally out of breath, voice strained as he speaks. “Stay
just like that, take care of Isaac until I can pull out.”
Scott’s eyes flick up to Isaac’s face; Isaac is looking down on him with an
expression of utter wonder and Scott decides right now there's nowhere he’d
rather be. Even though there's a part of him that’s desperate to come, even
though he realizes his hips are hunching into the mattress even now at this
awkward angle, he wants to make this good for Isaac.
Isaac pets his hair clumsily, lips moving but there are no words coming out;
Scott reaches to take his hand and squeezes it in wordless assurance. He’s okay
with this, okay with holding Isaac in his mouth, swallowing the weak spurts of
fluid when Isaac whines and trembles again.
It feels like an eternity and a blink until Chris pulls away from Isaac with a
groan. Isaac shudders, and the scent in the air changes. Scott whines, his cock
throbbing and he looks up at Chris, looks at the hunter who is smiling softly.
Without a word, Chris cups Scott’s cheek and pulls him gently away from Isaac.
Together they lay Isaac down on his side, and it looks like Isaac is only
minutes away from passing out cold.
Scott doesn’t expect what happens next, doesn't expect Chris to pull him close,
to yank off his ruined shorts and practically pull him into his lap so he’s
straddling the hunter’s thigh.
“You’ve been so good, Scott,” Chris rumbles, cupping Scott’s cheek and kissing
him surprisingly tenderly. “Go on, take what you need.”
And Scott has never even thought about this, never thought about having sex
with another alpha, rutting against someone strong and solid and not soft and
pliant, but his sense are full on overload after everything, he’s still full of
the scent and taste of Isaac, and he’s been hard for so long -
He throws his arms around Chris, buries his face in the alpha’s neck as his
hips move frantically, chasing friction. Chris’ thigh is like iron between his,
hard muscle and crisp hair rubbing against his cock and Scott is so
overstimulated he’s gonna come, he’s gonna -
Scott sobs when his knot finally pops, when release hits him like a tidal wave.
He shudders through his orgasm, Chris’ hands soothing along his sweat-slick
back, holding him upright as the alpha murmurs softly, reassuringly, the words
a white noise in Scott’s ears.
He feels like he’s floating, like his bones have turned to lead, almost as out
of it as Isaac when Chris helps him lie down, right next to the omega. But when
Chris straightens up and turns around as though to leave, both Scott and Isaac
speak up.
“Stay. Please.”
**
Chris stays.
End Notes
     The ancient treaty states that since the pack is responsible for
     Allison being unable to carry on the Argent line, they must provide a
     replacement virgin omega to bear children or else they become targets
     for hunters, same if Chris refuses to accept one. Isaac goes as the
     only omega in the pack, and Scott chooses to follow him, in the
     process subjecting himself to Argent rule under old traditions. There
     are several conditions as to where things have to happen and when,
     and once Isaac goes into heat Chris takes both him and Scott in bed
     with him, but he is also doing it under duress.
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