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Brent’s entrance into the homestead had been one filled with quiet fury and tired frustration. The wolf’s footfalls, whilst measured, were metered with an exhaustion that drew up only the most furious of images to one’s mind as he kicked off his boots. The fatigued huffs of indignation and barely calming sighs echoed through the empty rooms of the shared residence belonging to the pack, a sign that nobody was home.

Nobody, except him.

Brent looked upon him with silent resentment as he caught sight of the human between a slither of the doorway. Little had been done about the boy since he had arrived – he hadn’t yet decided what to do with the male – and so his presence was an uncomfortable one for the Alpha. Today was perhaps not the day this pet of his brother’s should be lounging around their territory, lest he get caught in some heated skirmish.

But it wouldn’t be fair to turn away the human. He was, after all, dating the Gamma. Respect must be given to all their courtships, no matter how frivolous, how brief, or how simple they might be. It still bothered him though that the boy had been brought in with almost barely any regard to whether or not he would suit coexisting with the pack. It was all down to what Brent chose, and naturally whilst Gamma pleaded for the human to be given a chance, the rest of the pack ranged from almost indifference to the male’s presence to lewd curiosity about whether he was fresh meat to sampled; in short they didn’t much care either way at this point as to what happened. Which landed the responsibility back with Brent.

There was nothing overtly wrong with him. He was young and trim, perhaps somewhat skinnier than Brent had imagined, but he had a very boyish look about him, with glossy blonde hair, dark blue eyes and a peachy hue whenever he flushed. Gamma had told them they had met outside the high school, goodness knows what the wolf had been doing there, and so he was barely legal at the ripe age of eighteen. As a rule, Brent had set out that the human was always to be beneath members of the pack, no human would ever compare to the superiority of wolf blood, and so many other rules had sprouted from that: no sitting upon the furniture unless invited, no speaking unless permitted to do so, address everyone as ‘sir’ unless told otherwise, always to be unclothed, and so forth. Brent spied him now, the male’s supple form sitting almost uncomfortably half upon his knees on the cold floorboards, bathing in the dying glow of the afternoon sun, absent eyes staring vacantly and his dusty chest lilting softly as he breathed. Brent will admit he was somewhat cute, for a human. Perhaps nothing he would ever go for, but he wouldn’t deny that he could very much see the boy looking adorable wrapping those ruby lips around a fat wolf cock, looking up with those delicate eyes innocently as he swallowed whatever was fed down his throat.

The Alpha snarled. These thoughts were unbecoming. Wolf kind and meagre humans did not mix.

Best to officially make his presence known, if the human hadn’t shockingly already figured out that the Alpha was home. The wolf peeled off his jacket and threw it against the coat stand before nearly barging into the living space, standing almost too proudly in the doorway with a vehement stare that bore down upon the human on the floor. He said nothing, made no move to enter nor leave, but simply watched as the boy looked panicked for a moment, met the wolf’s gaze, and then grew steadily uncomfortable as the silent seconds ticked by.

Eventually it was he who broke the silence, yielding to the Alpha’s authority,

“Welcome home,” he mustered in his most confident voice, shaky as it was, “S-sir!” He added it quickly, forgetfully, which pricked something deep within the wolf that took a moment to quell. He had to be given a chance. For as much as Brent was uncertain about the boy, he had to be a just leader, which meant honouring the pack’s own choices.

Brent made his way to the armchair – his armchair – and threw his weight into it, sagging against the comfortable leather and losing himself to the warm embrace of home. But still the human was there, watching now, his panic and fluster having abated to now mild curiosity and awkwardness. The wolf unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, observing the human who did his best not to squirm under the Alpha’s scrutinising gaze. Closer now, and with more in view, Brent could make out the finer details to the human’s form, from the soft curves of his muscles that toned his body to the thin thickets of hair that patched his chest and crotch. If he were to stay, Brent would order his whole body shaved. The boy was no wolf, and should bear no resemblance to one. He should be smooth, silky and succulent, so that when he would drag his tongue over his sweating flesh and taste the salt of their rutting he would feel exhilarated to have tempered such an exquisite thing.

Fuck, he growled to himself, a decision would have to be made. He refused to be vexed by the boy any longer. If he was going to remain, he would have to prove his mettle, otherwise Brent would not allow some human to continue to plague his every waking thought with such sordid visions.

“Boy,” he announced, clearing his throat, “come. Heel.”

“I have a name, you know,” the human whined indignantly, like some petulant child, “I’m Devon.”

“You have no name here,” Brent said with a growl upon his tongue, “You are nothing to me until proven otherwise. Now I said heel.” He snapped his fingers and pointed directly between his legs, footpaws spread apart to give the boy some room for when he made his way over, but for a moment he sat there almost dumbfounded.

“But Justin… when will he be back?” Gamma, the boy was looking for Gamma, some doleful look in his eye that relayed his misery in the wolf’s absence. It was almost sweet, were it not in flying in the face of the Alpha’s orders.

“Gamma is of no concern to you right now. I am. If you’re to part of this pack, then you will obey me as your Alpha.” The boy had been told about this, Gamma had assured him. He was supposed to be well versed and painfully aware of the hierarchy that existed, of the world he was about to enter, but in this instance he seemed to almost be blissfully unaware, blindly sitting there gormless. Brent cold stare bore him down and slowly, almost willed by the sheer force of his command, the boy made to get to his feet and halfway through the motion Brent’s bark cut through, “No, on all fours. You crawl in this household like the pet you want to be. Show your respect to your Alpha.”

Though he was shot a look of pitiful indignation, the sort expected from any petulant teenager about to tantrum, the human did as he was told, lowering himself back to the floor with a resigned look upon his face. He was learning, Brent would grant him that. But he would have to pick up the pace and figure out his place faster than this. Demurely he picked his way across the floor, limbs shuffling against the floorboards, until he was between the wolf’s legs, eyes picking their way up his navy fur, tracing every inch of his pelt forayed in lighter hues, smoky greys, crystal blues, until he met with that formidable glare all over again.

There was a tremble to his torso, Brent noted absently, perhaps a shiver of fear or bridling anticipation, it mattered little in the end as he stared the human down, mind working silently behind his gaze. He was running through scenarios, situations and circumstances playing out in his head, imagining how the human could be accommodated and ensured to behave within the pack. There was no way he could allow an outsider – one of another species, no less – to take precedence over any other member, only Omega would have to do. Typically a role no wolf would tolerate for long, griping and whining until they plucked up the balls to mount a rebellion. But something in the human made Brent think twice. He was no wolf, as obvious as it was, but he was overlooking the fact that the human had shown all the signs of submission. He yearned to serve, as he had done to Gamma, as he continued to do so enduring Brent’s authority. This may very well be possible…

“Footpaws,” Brent said abruptly, voice clear and determined, “Worship them.”

He lifted one leg, toes wiggling as he pushed his paw into the human’s face. Where revulsion should have taken for any ordinary individual, any disgust seemed washed away on the boy’s face, replaced with a flood of relieving satisfaction. Brent swore he even leaned into the footpaw as it brushed against his cheek, eyes lidded shut and mouth dropped open with a delirious smile. Instinct took over as the boy submitted, softly kissing the paw with chaste lips as if tenderly loving the wolf. Hunger took hold as his lips retained contact with the coarse flesh of his pads, a wet tongue darting out to lap against the fur and skin. Brent lifted his other paw to the boy’s face, and immediately the human took it in one hand and alternated himself, switching from footpaw to footpaw in an almost frantic fervour as greed overcame him. Simple licks became hungry, lewd sounds bursting from the boy’s lips that punctuated his soft moans as he gave in to worshipping the wolf’s paws.

From there the boy took over, his intuition working his mind to become proactive, as his sweet mouth found their way to the wolf’s toes. He drew them in one by one, suckling on them lovingly and letting them sit upon his tongue and allowing his mouth to caress them each. Over one paw he went, each toe on their own before he slid them all into his maw, as far as he could take him, as deep as they would go, and then he moved to the other footpaw. Again he repeated, each toe then all of them, taking his time and making sure to work his tongue back down the wolf’s soles.

“Good boy…” The words slipped past Brent’s lips before he knew what he was saying. But it didn’t matter. Watching the human sucking on his footpaws so headily, he could see that such a creature was born for service, something that pricked the dominance lurking within him. His paw slipped his fly down, pulling free his sheath and his rapidly hardening cock. Blood red flesh, tapered at its head, swelling along the shaft until the bloat of his knot at the base, it was a monstrous thing to look at. Brent ran his paw along his slick length as the boy peeked from the corner of his eye, face smothered in footpaw, watching the wolf stroke himself in arousal at his submission. A compliant thing like this boy would be a welcome asset to the pack if this behaviour can be refined and focused. He would have words with Gamma, caveats to the boy’s permanence, but until that wolf was back, he could indulge himself…

“Open your mouth.”

Brent put his footpaws down, shuffled his weight forward on the armchair a little so that his crotch hung off the edge of the seat enough for the human to know what to do. The boy lowered himself to the right height, mouth slightly open, and Brent took his skull between two paws and pulled his head towards him; it was like using a toy, as it should be, as the Alpha slid the human’s face onto his crotch, impaling that succulent mouth with his cock. There was resistance when the inches became too much for the boy, but with the wolf’s iron grip on him there was no pulling back. Brent pulled him down until that mouth kissed his groin, lips pursed over the knot, the boy’s face red with the force of too much inside him. His tight throat gasped around the wolf’s cock and the human made to gag and splutter around Brent, but he was not cruel. He let the boy pull back, easing his face off his cock, but only back to the head, the tip staying pressed against his warm tongue. It was enough to grant him a little air, to cough and clear his throat, but that was all. Then it was right back down onto his cock.

He used the boy like this for what seemed like an endless time, sat there in the growing darkness, just boy at the footpaws of his Alpha, mouth sucking cock, as Brent savoured the human’s throat. Just back and forth he pulled that head, letting it glide over his length from base to tip, occasionally pulling the boy off entirely and forcing his face into his musky balls, his tongue working fuzz instead of tepid flesh. But it wasn’t long until Brent was burying his meat right back into the boy, keeping his mouth forever occupied until his urges began to prick. An orgasm was building, overexposure of the warm mouth suckling on his cock and the boy’s expert tongue working on his shaft, paying special attention to his knot. It wasn’t long until Brent’s feral side took over, and his grasp on the human’s head tightened hard, and he thrust deep into his face, a snarl curling at his lips,

“Get ready for it, boy.”

There was apprehension in his eyes, some unknown fear, but it was weak compared to his submission, as the human gargled and whimpered around the fat cock ploughing his face, plunging his throat. The wolf grunted, the sound so guttural it was if it almost hurt, and with one strong, shuddering thrust he slammed in to the human’s mouth, knot slipping past lips and swelling to lock the boy’s jaw, and he came, thick seed jetting into his maw and hitting the back of his throat. The boy tried to gag, but he was beyond control at this point, and Brent savoured the wild look in his eyes as he emptied his balls into the human, stroking the side of his face and smearing through the frothed drool, wondering to himself how cute the boy looked flush with his crotch, a cock knotted down his throat.

“Yes, we may just keep you…” he mused aloud.