Chapter 3: bedridden (two)

The moment stretched as the man beside him breathed deeply, staring intently into Spike’s shaken eyes. He felt Hunter's hand slide over his jaw, grasping his chin gently. He didn't move, feeling his own heartbeat in his throat. 

He breathed out in a huff as Hunter shook his head by the chin, before letting go to sit up. The tension that had returned in his body eased just a little as the back of his head touched the soft bed below. Spike gasped as Hunter let go of his knot, the sudden sensation of not being locked in, startling. His eyes shook as he watched the man run his tongue over his fingers dripping with come, getting even more startled as Hunter gave him a wink. Spike hadn’t even registered that he was still grasping the bastard’s cock. As the wolf started to pry his fingers off Spike let go as if his hand was burned.

Spike was left stunned beyond words as he looked at his own hand that had jerked off the bastard… He could still taste the salty tang of his cock in his mouth. His eyes watered as he finally made sense of what had just happened. 

He was used. Like a bitch... 

Meanwhile Hunter had left the room and came back with a basin of water and soap. The man leaned over him and wiped his face with the soapy washcloth. Spike couldn't think of growling at the sudden intimate gesture, even more startled when Hunter gently cleaned him, as if touching something that would break. He stared into his eyes as he tended to him. Spike knew that not only pain set this man off, it was also the things Spike said… 

Spike was starting to get flustered as the wolf simply washed him gently. What did that fucker want? Why was he treating him like this? Even if he believed Spike was his bitch, which wasn’t true, this wasn’t how one would treat a bitch. 

Spike didn’t dare growl or tell off the man. Despite the surface change in mood in Hunter, Spike wasn’t someone who easily forgot about danger sitting right on top of him. He just lay until the Hunter was done wiping the come off him.

After wiping Spike free of semen, rinsing the rag several times, Hunter finished by checking the IV line connected to Spike’s hand. It hadn’t gotten too badly messed with, though the tape would need to be replaced soon. He glanced at the bag before he set aside the basin so he could lay back down. Stretching, he sighed, then looked over at Spike.

“If you like, we can wash your hair later,” he said, his voice rough from orgasm, husky. “I bought some new shampoo. Didn’t know what you usually use.” He frowned slightly. “Should make a list of things you like. Shampoos, soaps… Foods when you’re back on solids.”

Finding every nutrient rich liquid he could had been a pain. He hadn’t fully thought through the difficulties with keeping a “spacer” inside his bitch. Thankfully, the IV seemed to be working well. 

Rolling onto his side, Hunter propped his head up on his hand, gazing at the stubble on Spike’s chin and cheeks. With the wolf’s hair being so light, it didn’t show too much, same with the rest of Spike’s body hair. It had been a pain to wash away the come with a rag. The hair catching against his tongue as he’d licked his way down. There had to be something he could do about it.

“How do you feel about shaving?” He asked, knowing the question must have seemed to come from no where. “Would make it easier to keep you clean.”

Spike endured being washed, endured as Hunter checked the IV line and bag. It was impossible for him to detach himself like he had been able to do before. Not after what had just happened. He sighed heavily as Hunter settled down beside him, so close he was practically glued to him. When he heard him speak however some of his previous anger stirred in him again. The whoreson loved to mock and ridicule him on top of everything else degrading he forced on him. Speaking as if Spike would be living here! Soaps, shampoos, foods.... But he needed to stifle his anger… he didn’t want to provoke him again. Not righ now... 

He closed his eyes, hoping that there was some magic that would make this whole thing go away. He felt the man move on the brd, but Spike only glimpsed when he felt a shift in the mattress. He tried to move away but it was a futile effort. The question left him dumbfounded. But then the next part came - make it easier to clean?! 

"What the fuck do you mean?" Spike replied, voice low and husky, suspicious and defensive.

Whatever it meant Spike would not shave or do anything just because this bastard told him to do it.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a low growl in his throat at the outburst. Even after an orgasm, the bitch couldn’t calm down. 

“Which part?” He rumbled, knowing already what it was the bitch was grumbling about. “Your body hair. You have a lot of it, light as it is.” 

He ran his hand over Spike’s stomach, feeling the hair there, following the trail up to the man’s chest. Strangely, it was softer between Spike’s pectorals, less dense and wiry. As a rule, Hunter didn’t mind body hair, as he certainly had enough himself. There were areas he preferred it not to be, however. Over Spike’s tits, in particular, or the bitch’s asshole— He’d already had to pick hair from his mouth after going down on Spike’s hole. It seemed only polite that his bitch should be smooth in those areas, seeing how much Spike had enjoyed being eaten out, and his tits sucked. 

“So ‘what the fuck’ I mean is it needs to go.” Hunter smirked. “I’ll show you the same courtesy. Keep my beard closer so I’m not giving your sweet ass cheeks a rash. Make clean up easier on you as well. You won’t need to scrub so hard to get my come out of your ass hair.”

He ran his hand up to Spike’s stubbled chin, holding it tightly. He liked a bit of stubble, though too much tickled his cock, distracted him. There was an electric shaver somewhere… It had been years since he’d pulled it out. Years since he’d looked after himself properly. The ghost of a memory beckoned: rough, strong hands, smaller than his own, running over his shoulders, soft breasts pressed to his back as he gazed into the mirror. ‘There’s my handsome man’. 

Hunter gave himself a mental shake, eyes refocusing on Spike’s cold eyes. For a moment, his chest felt tight, but he dragged himself back into the now.

Spike froze, his breath catching in his throat as he heard the low growl, the coldness of those eyes - like a switch being snapped replacing the relaxed amusement. His stomach twisted as Hunter ran his hand over his abdomen. A shiver went through him as the hand slid up to his chest. Despite the simple and almost innocent touch and movement Spike couldn’t help but be afraid of the implication of those words. Why would the bastard even bring it up?

Spike wasn’t left to wonder much longer. As the man smirked, Spike paled. He didn't like looking at that grinning face. Every time he was sure he could see things behind the eyes that looked at him with hunger. As if the wolf wanted to devour him... The same way that he had back in the woods a few days ago - savagely and completely. 

A chill ran down his spine as Hunter told him that he wanted his hair gone— to make it easier to clean— Spake glared in shock and disbelief, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. It took all his self control to stop his body from reacting to this insult, his limbs trembling.

Spike had never bothered to try and make things more comfortable with those who he had fucked. After all, most of them were used once, so complaining became obsolete. Those that he fucked repeatedly, needed to suck it up if there was something that they found uncomfortable. Not that there could be since all of them begged for his cock. Removing hair was ridiculous, completely unnecessary and demeaning. No self respecting male would become hairless, especially for the reason of taking cock easier. Then they might as well not call themselves male anymore.

And this bastard was suggesting just that. Removing his hair?

"You want me with no hair?" Spike laughed in turn. A nasty husky shaking laugh. He couldn’t contain himself anymore. All these days, letting things pass, he had been incredibly generous with his tolerance to Hunter’s nonsense. He had been pushed beyond his patience. This bastard was really treating him like his bitch… Shoving his cock in his mouth, keeping his ass stuffed, talking down at him, going to the lengths to even try to get rid of the things that made Spike a man by removing his hair. "No." he said with trembling fury, his rage so vast that his eyes watered because of his inability to express it physically.

So much for attempts at civility. Hunter’s eyes grew cold as Spike laughed, watching how the bitch shook from dismissive amusement. His hand lifted from the wolf’s chest to crack down in a slap across Spike’s face, before he grabbed the wolf by the hair, pulling Spike’s head back. Breathing in deeply, Hunter leaned over his bitch, staring into Spike’s eyes.

“No hair… There’s an idea.” He rumbled. “I would have been happy with trimming, or shaving it down in certain areas, but if extremes are the only things you seem able to comprehend… Best to get rid of all of it.”

Speculatively, he looked at all of Spike’s luscious, long hair. That would definitely stay, but letting Spike think, for a moment, that he would take it, sent a cruel simmer of amusement through him. He released his hold on the bitch’s hair, stroking it back from Spike’s face.

“You seem to still be misunderstanding the situation you’re in.” Hunter continued after a moment, his voice a low growl.

Spike felt something unpleasant as Hunter’s eyes grew cold – a feeling he had only recently come to know. It was a crawling feeling under his skin, a tightening in his stomach, the beading of sweat on the back of his neck. His instincts blatantly told him ‘danger’. 

Spike wasn’t that perceptive to understand the small changes in expressions or body language… but he could clearly smell it – the scent of the male growing heavier, making the hairs on his body stand up on end even before the wolf lifted his hand to slap him hard across the face. Spike’s head was thrown to the side by the force of the slap. His cheek was burning, stinging from the strike. The humiliation bubbling over as his own arms shot up toward the man, pressing into his unmovable chest as he was pushed down. His hair was pulled, bringing tears to his eyes as his throat was exposed, being stared down. His growl turned into a whimper.

When Hunter started speaking Spike paled, mortified. Why had he assumed that Hunter was not the same savage beast that he’d been during his rut? Spike had tried to behave as much as possible, despite going against everything he believed in - for the sake of survival. But this? He couldn’t take it.

“ What —” he managed to whimper out, without a breath, blinking away tears.

No hair? He couldn’t be serious. There was no way. The hair on his body? The hair on his head ?... All of it? It was difficult to breathe. 

But even if he was forced to live through that humiliation… It was going to grow back even if the crazy bastard removed it. 

At the bitch’s whimper, Hunter sighed, grumbling low in his throat as he moved away. He’d wanted to enjoy the warm glow after an orgasm, relax and take a moment from the constant care he’d been giving his bitch. His skin was alight with annoyance, the need to move propelling him out of the bed. 

Almost spilling water on the floor as he snatched up the basin of water, Hunter stormed off to the bathroom. He needed to calm down. Spike was a frustrating bastard, but he’d decided that this man - this selfish, vicious, beautiful man - was the one he wanted, needed . It was only the first few days. Already Spike was learning, he just needed to be patient, quick with corrective punishments.

Sighing, he dumped the water into the tub, scooping up the washcloths to wring them out and hang them to dry, the act one he didn’t need to think about, familiar— something he’d been trained to do as well. Even after years of living as a beast, certain actions came back easily. Buy groceries, put them away in the fridge. Wipe off the counters. Dust the corners.

Running his hands over his hair, Hunter softly growled as he felt how much of his bun had come loose. He tugged free the hair tie, barely looking at himself in the mirror as he pulled all his hair back, securing it again. He ran his fingers through his beard, eyes firmly down as he strode past the mirror, going to the bathroom closet to look through what items he had available for hair removal. Razors wouldn’t do, as he didn’t relish the thought of struggling to hold the bitch down as he shaved him. The only waxing strips left behind by his wife were the small ones for eyebrows and upper lips; it had been years since they had last been used, and he doubted they were still good.

His eyes lingered on the shelf, still incredibly organized with little tubs of colorful lotions, containers for cotton balls and cotton swabs. It all seemed foreign now, yet oddly comforting, underlaid with a melancholy he didn’t enjoy. 

Breathing in deeply, he left the bathroom, returning to the bitch. He gathered up the blankets to cover Spike back up, his hands slowly growing more careful, gentle, as he tucked the blanket around Spike’s healing hips.

“I was wondering about your name,” Hunter rumbled, forcing his thoughts away from products without an owner. “Spike Hunter Bloodhound. Did you take it for yourself, or is it familial?”

Spike’s heart was slamming in his chest, he couldn’t dare breathe as his throat was exposed to the same wolf again. He had never yielded to anyone and now he was doing it again and again, stomach twisting in fear. For the first time in his life he was experiencing what it felt like to be on the losing side, to be dominated and made to submit… 

When he heard the wolf above him sigh and release his grip, Spike finally allowed himself to breathe. With a weak heart he followed the movements of the man who was getting off the bed. Could it be, he was planning to do something to him?... Spike was ready to fight it if it came to it, no matter if he was injured… 

But instead Hunter just grabbed the basin of water and left.

Cold sweat poured on Spike’s back. He looked at the bathroom door where the man had disappeared to. He took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself, still new to handling fear.

Spike couldn’t tell how much time passed since Hunter left. His head felt like a mess. It was no use thinking about his situation. No matter how enraging and horrible it was Spike was being held captive by a fuckin’ crazy maniac with a serious temper problem. The moment that Spike was healed he was gonna leave this place, contact his pack and kill this whoreson… he only needed to endure a little bit more.

But how much more could he endure? His patience was already running on the very edge. He was infuriated by the things Hunter demanded and took from him… He wanted him hairless? What was he planning to do? Force him to shave? That was just ridiculous—

Just as he was thinking that he heard the door open. He looked up to see Hunter leave the bathroom, his expression unreadable – not that Spike was good at reading expressions away. Unsure of what the man could want he followed him with his gaze warily. Hunter touched him gently, covering him with a blanket and Spike was startled once again. This kind of change in the way he spoke… It was almost frightening.

Spike stood on edge. The man knew information about him that was extremely private. Spike’s full name in particular carried too much information about him. It was why he always kept it hidden. 

The question asked was something he would refuse to answer, but he couldn’t see himself doing anything to anger this man again…

“Bloodhound is my pack name.” he answered flatly. “All the strike-force packs had different names…” he explained, his eyes moving somewhere to the side.

When he’d been tasked to find Spike by the Brookhavens, Sasha had snarled Spike’s full name with so much disgust, Hunter would never forget it. He’d hunted and killed, filled with animal rage, until the end of the war, but he had never experienced this level of hatred Sasha Brookhaven held for his bitch. After the war, he had struggled some, meeting fellow bounty hunters who had been part of the Hunt, but as individuals they seemed almost decent, even likable. 

He’d been surprised how young many of them were, realizing they would have been teenagers, even younger, during the war. Such thoughts had been far from his mind during the war. He had hunted, killed, eaten well, and lost himself entirely to the wounded, insane beast he’d become. 

Hearing the mention of strike-force packs made his jaw tighten a fraction, and he had to remind himself, yet again, to not view all the Hunt wolves as one quarry to be hunted and eaten. Even if Spike had been branded a war criminal by the Brookhavens, other wolves seemed to just regard Spike as a bastard.

“Ah, yes. The soldier groups.” Hunter murmured, his voice flat. 

He knew about Spike’s strike force; there were few who didn’t among werewolves. Not only did the Bloodhounds run the first, and most popular, werewolf bar, where wolves could be wolves, the pack had also, according to some of his associates, been at the center of stopping the war. Spike didn’t strike him as a hero, however. His bitch seemed more like some party boy brat, hardly an alpha of note.

“And your middle name?” Hunter asked, feeling a little amusement.

The position Spike was in wasn’t the most comfortable, but he couldn’t complain. Literally. He had understood at least one thing - that anything Spike said had the potential of pissing off the large wolf.

He felt eyes on himself so Spike tried to ignore it while he stared at the frilly curtains around the windows looking over the clearing where the bastard had captured him during his rut. He didn’t what to know what kind of expression the man had on his face. It was enough that he wasn’t sensing any hostility targeted at himself. He couldn’t relax with Hunter so close so he tried to focus on other things. Like the delicate looking decorations around the room that didn't seem to fit Hunter at all. He had wondered about that - if the bastard had a woman somewhere. Maybe she was away and Spike was just an entertainment to fill the time in between.

Spike’s eyes moved as he heard the man speak as he had even the faintest idea about what he was talking about. He could clearly see on his face what he thought about the strike packs. Something embedded deep in him wanted to beat into this man the knowledge of the Hunt’s might, that they weren’t wolves that anyone could mess with— but the war was over. And his life was on the line right now. He exhaled, his anger and frustration being tucked away for some other time.

The next question however caught him off guard. He gritted his teeth because he knew why the man looked so damn amused. It was the same name as his… And Spike remembered it still from their conversation that seemed so long ago now, when he had been left with a good impression of the man. Enough to remember his name despite drinking heavily that night. Remembering that now only made him angry.

“My father’s name.” he answered, grunting the words through his teeth. His reluctance to speak was clearly visible despite his efforts to hide it.

Hunter had wondered. His name wasn’t out of the ordinary, or even unusual among werewolves. Werewolf parents were always giving their children names like Hunter or Archer, names that parents expected their children to live up to. Spike sounded violent; perfect for his vicious beauty. Personally, he’d preferred names with a little more meaning for his own—

Squashing the thought about children before it fully formed, Hunter made a thoughtful sound as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Fighting the melancholy that was threatening to overtake him, he shifted, touching Spike’s chin, looking at the red mark his hand had left on his bitch’s face. He wondered how long it would take before the mark faded.

“Your father, hmm?” Hunter asked, lifting his gaze to look into Spike’s pale green eyes. “Considering our relationship, such as it is, you could call me ‘daddy’.” 

Tempting Spike’s rage, teasing him, while the man was partially incapacitated, gave him a sick sort of pleasure. He wondered just what Spike would do, once recovered. When Spike was strong enough to fight back, he was certain he would need to use all his skills to take the bitch back down. Truly, he was looking forward to it. To lay claim fully again, to show Spike just who he was dealing with.

Spike had never thought that he would be in a situation like this - having someone do the things that Hunter did to him. Right now he was holding on to his survival by a thread, but the wolf inside him still raged at everything. So much so that his stomach would hurt from it. Hunter touching his chin was one of those small things that just boiled the rage inside him. Compared to everything else the man had done to him this was insignificant, but he couldn’t let it go. Nobody had ever put their hands on him like that, so casually...

That however was not the most infuriating thing Hunter did right then. What he said next would have been enough to have Spike bash his fucking head inin any other situation. 

He stared at the man, expression blank. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, to keep himself from straight out punching the bastard for saying something so disgusting. And it would be so easy to clober him when Hunter was standing so close. 

“I would rather die.” he said simply.

Hunter couldn’t have expected any other response, dark amusement twinkling in his eyes. Considering the provocation, his bitch was controlling himself well. He cupped the side of Spike’s face, chuckling softly, stroking Spike’s cheek with his thumb. 

“First name basis, then?” He lightly teased.

When Spike was fully healed, healthy and whole again, Hunter was sure the bitch would try to challenge him. Even being a believer in the Way of the Wolf, Spike didn’t seem willing to accept his new role; there was no telling if the wolf would follow the proper stages of challenge. Hunter would need to be vigilant, careful. When Spike did challenge him, he would show the wolf exactly how he had survived during the war as a lone wolf.

He got up off the bed, hand slow to move off Spike’s face. He had work to attend to. Yet another client who needed him to hunt down someone, an alpha who had kidnapped their daughter during the war. Another victim of someone like Spike, claimed as a mate and taken hostage. Negotiations hadn’t worked, so now the family was bringing in him. He hadn’t been told to go easy on the alpha if there was resistance.

“I have another bounty to claim, so rest up. Oh, by the way...” Hunter reached behind the door where he had hung up a pink, silk nightgown, removing it from its hanger. “In case you start to feel too exposed laying naked in my bed.” He laid down the nightie on the bed beside Spike.

Spike's teeth were clenched as the wolf simply chuckled, amused. The muscles on his jaw shifted as Hunter cupped the side of his face. The gesture seemed gentle, that's why it infuriated him even more. Like a lover's touch. A mockery of it. 

The best that Spike could do was work on his burning anger that had perfectly mixed with fear. He followed the man with his eyes as he stood up, his eyes growing large in shock. The man pulled out a delicate silk and lace nightgown and left it on the bed. For Spike. This had to be a joke...

The shock faded, replaced by something else.

"Where is your woman?" Spike asked. "I'm not blind. I can see you have one. Why are you forcing her things on me?"

Spike looked at Hunter, trying to figure things out until a grin pulled at his lips.

"She left you? Cause you're such a bastard?"

Hunter grew still. Very still. He was partway back to the door when Spike opened his mouth. For a moment he was fine with the questions, but as Spike kept pushing, became insulting, a low rumble formed in his throat, becoming a rattling growl. He slowly turned, eyes glowing briefly, as he snarled through his teeth.

His posture was stiff as he took long strides back to the bed, the hair on the back of his neck rising. Rage suffused through his body as he reached down for Spike, slamming aside the bitch’s attempts at defence. Burying his fingers in Spike’s hair, he dragged the man up, then drove a fist into Spike’s cheek. He let the bitch fall back to the bed, strands of golden hair clinging to his fingers, as he grabbed Spike by the throat, squeezing just enough to restrict the airflow, but allow the bitch enough space to barely breathe.

“My wife…” Hunter growled, teeth sharpening as he snarled in Spike’s face. “Is dead. Murdered by the Hunt.”

He could smell blood. Sweet. Dark. Filled with life. Hunter’s eyes lowered to Spike’s nose, watching the blood flowing freely. Unable to stop himself, he opened his mouth, licking up the thick, hot liquid, shuddering as he swallowed. His bitch was delicious. The most powerful wolves always were. Growling low in his throat, he cleaned the blood from Spike’s chin and mouth, lapping up more as Spike’s nose continued to bleed freely. 

Opening his eyes, Hunter met Spike’s gaze. He needed to stop. He was going to kill this man if he didn’t. Go hunt. Find the bounty. Stop nearly crushing the bitch’s windpipe.

Hunter pulled back, shaking the hair from his hand, breathing heavily as he made himself take a few steps back. The quarry was lame, his mind kept telling him. Fresh meat. But, no, he didn’t want to live with that madness. 

“Stay naked, then.” Hunter growled, picking up the nightgown with care. 

He made himself go through the human motions of placing it back on the hanger, then hanging it back in the closet. Put up with everything else he didn’t know how to let go. He didn’t dare look at Spike as he grabbed clothing to wear.

Spike was not some kind of weakling to get scared easily. It wasn’t like he had spoken without thinking. He was already aware the bastard was insane and that he had suffered by his hands so many times. But did that mean he should just cower like a weakling? Leave this wolf to walk all over him, insult him constantly. Forcing him to wear women's clothing was the last straw. Spike couldn’t take anymore. Why did he have to be scared of this whoreson? He couldn’t accept it—

But then Hunter stood still, a chill ran through Spike even before he heard the growl. He couldn’t even think of baring his teeth as fear nested deep in his chest. That low rattling growl. He had heard rumors about it, about the lone wolf who hunted The Hunt. The wolf that had gone mad; that had abandoned his human form, feasting on the flesh of his enemies like a rabid animal… Spike had thought it was just a silly story, something to help the wolves from the Hunt keep vigilant, not get too cocky and keep growing. He had been sure it was a tactical rumor perhaps ever put out there by Volden.

But he had never thought he could hear this kind of growl for real, with its distinct sound...

Spike's heart was trying to beat out of his chest as the wolf turned around and headed for him. He had been faced with countless opponents before, countless battles... So why was it that he couldn't shake off this terror. It wasn’t just his suspicion of who Hunter could be. It was like fear had been branded in him the moment that man had taken him by force. Fear… It coiled into his stomach like a snake rolled into a ball. He could feel the sweat on his neck as the man came closer slowly.

Spike didn’t have time to try and crawl away, he could do nothing but lift his arms and try to protect himself, protect his exposed body. It was already clear who the victor would be with Spike unable to even lift his legs.

The man reached down for him, slapping away with ease Spike’s attempts at defense. Spike barked as he was yanked by his hair, with a growl that quickly turned into a whimper as Hunter’s heavy fist drove into his face. The strike left him dizzy, seeing spots as he fell back on the bed. He wasn’t left time to recover as he felt pressure wrap around his neck. With his vision still blinded by stars, his own hands shot up to grasp and those choking him…

Barely able to breathe, his eyes lifted as Hunter spoke. Spike understood then that he should have kept his mouth shut—

Spike tried to pull at those hands still firmly choking him, crushing his windpipe, leaving just enough space to allow a shallow breath from time to time. Enough to be aware as the wolf started lapping the blood off his face. Cold sweat wet his back as he couldn’t help recall that story about the cannibal wolf. 

Tears rolled out of his eyes as he fought. He tried everything to pry those hands off himself but they didn’t budge. When Hunter finally released him, Spike took a gasping breath, but the air got stuck in his abused throat. He coughed harshly as the man moved away, somehow regaining his sanity as Spike still struggled to breathe.

Spike was shaking, trembling in his spot as Hunter put away the nightgown and left the room. The moment the wolf left, Spike started crying, trembling as he tried to curl in a way that would make it easier to protect himself if danger came again. But he couldn’t. His pelvis protested as he tried to lift his legs. It only made him cry harder, struggle to breathe and choke.

He had almost lost his life because of a petty insult. Because his pride had been hurt… It made him question if pride was worth his life. If only he hadn’t said anything…

+

It was one of the fastest takedowns of his career. Possibly one of the bloodiest. 

It wasn’t anything compared to how Hunter had been during the war, when he’d barely acknowledged his human mind, letting the hurt, savage wolf in him rule his nature, hunting down merciless killers, and finding his pack’s murderers. Back then, the fur around his face had been covered so often with blood, it always carried a red tinge. He had left in a barely restrained rage, and seeing the girl being held captive, realising how young she would have been when she was taken, made him lose a fair amount of his control.

His bounty was alive. Mostly. Torn and possibly traumatised, but the terror made it easier to return to the family for his money, the girl glad to be home. He’d taken souvenirs, keeping the chains and shackles the girl had been locked in, at first just to help prove to her parents they had been right, that she didn’t want to be there, but after... Hunter had thought of his own bitch, his captured war criminal.

Spike had no filter. Had no sense of what to say, and what not to say. He was a spoiled bastard. Hunter wondered, briefly, if it was worth the effort to keep the bitch alive. Who else suited him so well, he reminded himself. Loneliness left him with few options, but to eventually lose his tenuous hold on his sanity, and descend back into the vicious murderer he’d become.

As he’d left his latest employer’s home, he’d asked about the nearest apothecary, needing to pick up something he definitely had enough money to indulge in. Spike had a warped way of seeing the world, a madness similar to his own, though Spike’s came down to that flawed ideology. Procuring his purchase from the apothecarist, the witch giving him a strange look as he was an incredibly shaggy, bearded man these days, Hunter had also made a stop at the local drug store. He had a surprise for his bitch.

Coming back home, still a little flecked with blood, he could hear the chickens fluttering about, one of them actually pecking at the kitchen window. That helped calm him a bit, leaving his shopping and the chains on the counter as he went out, feeding those needy, affectionate birds. For a long time they had been his only company. He’d considered getting a couple goats, or maybe one of those micro cow things he’d read about, but adding that seemed like a bit too much work with his job. The chickens, at least, could take care of themselves, eating bugs in the garden, and stealing his tomatoes.

Breathing steadily, mind a little more clear, he took off his worn boots. He could smell Spike, the tang of fear still lingering in the air. Fear wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He reminded himself of this as he carried his shopping, and the chains, to the bedroom. Again, he paused to knock, accidentally smacking the chains against the door as he did, before walking inside.

“Home.” He grunted, clearing his throat. “I’m home.”

Spike had dozed off into an unpleasant nap. He had been on high alert since Hunter had left the house earlier. So his ears easily picked up the sound of footsteps. He startled awake, feeling his heart race up into his throat. By habit he tried to sit up, but his waist refused with a sharp stab of pain. He stifled a small grunt, cursing himself and that bastard for being stuck immobile in this place, beaten and afraid.

He felt himself tremble just from the thought of Hunter coming back in this room— 

He heard a door swinging open. Spike could smell the scent of blood even through the closed door. He could hear the sound of clatter and metal but not much else. Then he heard the steps heading in his direction, his heart giving a startled shudder as he recognized the sound of a chain slamming against the door before it opened. 

The man that stood there took up the whole frame. Hunter looked at him and Spike couldn’t begin to guess what that look was supposed to mean…

Spike’s attention, however, was drawn to the object the man was holding in his hands. Chains and cuffs that rang with a clear sound as they hung on Hunter’s hand. Spike swallowed, stifling down the fear that washed over him. He could see the chains and cuffs had been used enough to have worn. The scent of a female, blood and despair was stuck to those things…

Hunter stared at Spike for a long moment, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the bitch’s scent. Most of his aggression had been worked through, given a new target who deserved his wrath. He was tired, the adrenaline leaving his limbs trembling slightly. 

For years he had thrived on the scent of fear. He’d developed a taste for it, the bitter, citrus tang it gave meat, the smell of it thick when the weakest of a pack discovered the mutilated and partially devoured remains of their pack. He was almost ashamed of that time, the loss of control now frightening. 

Letting the chains drop to the floor, he walked, almost casually to the bed. Clicking his tongue, he looked at the bruising on Spike’s face and throat. Bruises would fade, he knew that. His eyes glanced at the IV bag, seeing it was already much lower. Spike ate a lot, regardless of if it was liquid or solid. That amount rose, it seemed, with each new injury. He changed out the bag, giving it a little squeeze to make it drip faster, before he sat down on the side of the bed.

“Am I truly that horrifying?” He asked softly, peeling back the blankets from Spike’s body. “Sadistic, perhaps? The first monster you’ve met?”

He opened the shopping bag to pull out the box of waxing strips he’d purchased, as well as a smaller paper bag. He unwrapped the small jar within the paper, setting the hair retardant potion down on the bedside table. He sighed, reading the back of the waxing strips box.

“I’ll need to wipe away your sweat before using these. Seeing as you refuse to be accommodating in any way, preferring to sling insults.” Hunter grumbled.

He fixed a dark look on Spike before going to the bathroom to retrieve a damp washcloth and a small towel. He kept his hands gentle as he cleaned away sweat, the smell of fear not so thick as he worked.

Spike's heart was going wild as he was reminded of the limitations of his body. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get off this bed.

He didn't need to look to see that Hunter had discarded the chains he had been holding, the clanking of metal was clear. He could feel the sweat on his neck as the man came closer slowly, even before he lifted his eyes to see him come to the bed. Standing there just looking him over. Spike didn't dare to say or do anything as he was aware he wouldn't be able to handle another beating. Even hooked to an IV his healing was Still lacking. Mending bones took a lot out of him, especially when they were set in another shape than their original. Spike knew that he should have healed by now... 

As Hunter spoke Spike growled small, a deep quiet sound from his chest. Fear... It forced out of him the simple animal instincts. Growl to scare away the predator, show that you're not an easy prey.

"I'm not a child." Spike said, his voice far from the offended tone his intended to use. "Monsters don't exist. Only crazy bastards—" he said it. Even though he knew he shouldn't. He had never in his life filtered what came out of his mouth so finding himself now in a situation that forced him to think before he spoke... It was difficult. Words seemed to be faster than his thoughts.

He watched as Hunter took stuff out of the bag. Stuff hat Spike couldn't recognise as anything. He had no idea what those bottles and boxes contained.

"What is that...." Spike asked wary as Hunter grumbled something about the box he was holding and then went to wipe his body down, making Spike shiver. He didn't know if it was for a medical reason or if Hunter was planning to do something to him. The unknown felt scarier.

Crazy bastards. Spike was half right. When he’d finally come out of the haze of killing, Hunter had felt crazy. Like something irreparable had broken in his psyche. He’d never thought of himself as weak, but there was only so much a mind could take, he supposed. He smiled to himself as he patted Spike’s skin dry, rubbing at the heavier patches of hair.

“Careful what you say, precious.” He warned, voice low, but more amused than angered. 

While in the murder haze, he’d felt justified. Taking lives for all the lives taken. Creating horror with barely a thought to it, ran entirely by his warped nature. After, he’d had to try and come to terms with what he’d done, while interacting with wolves he might have, during the war, slaughtered without a thought. Even trying to let loose, to relax, he couldn’t fully settle back into society. He couldn’t stop seeing the world through the lens of war and suffering.

At Spike’s question, Hunter perked up, glad for the distraction. He lifted the box so Spike could see the label. As the wolf continued to look confused, he smirked, turning the box back to himself.

“Waxing strips. For hair removal.” Hunter said, reading the back of the box. “I’ve never used them, but the instructions seem simple. Apply, rub, remove.” He looked at Spike, shaking the box so the contents clattered about. “Hair gone.”

Tension was in Spike’s body, expecting there to be a punishment for speaking freely. Hunter however didn’t respond with anger. Spike looked at the man unable to understand what was going through his head. He couldn’t help but feel a tightening in his stomach, his muscles clenching as Hunter patted him dry with a towel. 

Spike had no idea what the objects Hunter had taken out were, but he was pretty sure Hunter wouldn’t have brought them here if he wasn’t planning to use them on him. His heart froze when he was told what was in the box the wolf was holding— Removing his hair? The fuckin bastard had been serious? But he wasn’t making him shave? Then this… what was it? He couldn’t understand the words “waxing strip”. Wax was what candles were made out of. Cut in a strip it would be brittle. How was that supposed to remove hair?

Either way, he didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Spike’s body hair was a testament to his strength and manliness. A wolf without hair was a fucking joke. That bastard wanted to turn him into a joke —

Hunter regarded Spike cooly, eyes holding Spike’s gaze for a moment, before looking over the wolf’s face. There were places where, like any other beard, the hairline was uneven, looking messy. He touched his own beard for a moment, knowing his own hair must look so unkempt. He used to take pride in how he looked— 

He reached out slowly to stroke along Spike’s cheek. “Are you going to make this difficult for me?” He asked, eyes meeting Spike’s again. “Or are you going to behave? Let me do this? Remember, the alternative is for you to clean yourself up. Look good for me.”

Spike's eyes narrowed as Hunter started at him, gaze scanning over his face, seemingly lost in thought. He flinched as the man reached his hand, stroking his cheek.

Cold sweat poured down his back as Hunter spoke. This had to be a joke, right?... Anger was pushing under the surface of his caution and fear. Being talked down like this? Behave? Look good for him ?— Spike felt the anger that had been accumulating inside him all this time finally boil over. 

"Like hell I would!" he growled, pulling sharply away from the wolf's hand. "I'm not your fucking bitch!" he spat.

They were going to have to do this the hard way, then. Spike needed to learn to behave, to work with him. If Spike wouldn’t compromise, then the choice had to be made for him. 

Hunter growled low in his throat as Spike jerked away, wrestling down Spike’s arms as the wolf continued to struggle. He’d managed to work out most of his aggression on his bounty, but the frustration of dealing with a selfish bitch was enraging him. 

“Spoiled little shit,” Hunter snarled. “Acting like some poorly trained dog, just like your pack name would suggest. You believe in the Way, but only when it doesn’t apply to you, am I right? When you’re the strongest bastard, able to crush anyone weaker than you. Have you already forgotten how I beat you? Claimed you? Or did the number of times you came on my knot scramble your brains?”

"You know nothing about my pack!” Spike snarled as the wolf was wrestling down his arms, seeing red as his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. His anger was laced with fear that refused to leave him. He was already aware he should watch what he was saying but it was impossible to control himself. Spike couldn’t accept he was a bitch and he couldn’t let pass an insult to his pack.

Like hell he was going to willingly allow to be violated! Spike growled at Hunter’s words, who was trying to justify all that he did with the Way. It was as if the bastard was making it out to seem like he was the sane one—

Spike’s breath caught as his growl turned into a whimper, eyes shaking with his internal turmoil. It couldn’t be right. Even if he had been beaten… Even if he had been marked and fucked… how did that make him not himself anymore? How was he no longer Spike Bloodhound, an alpha with a pack, living comfortably with his own bitch? How could that happen?

“I’m not—” he said with a shaking voice through clenched teeth, recalling how hard Hunter had fucked him that first night -  so hard, he was still healing weeks later.

There was that fire he loved. The look Spike had in his eyes— Hunter wondered if it had been love when he’d seen how Spike had laughed in the Brookhavens’ faces. His heart had beaten so quickly. At the time he hadn’t known if he wanted to take Spike as his bitch, or if he wanted the chance to kill and devour him. There were times he still wasn’t sure, until he felt a stab of alarm at causing too much damage, the concern strangely mixed with lust and the animal need to dominate.

The fire faded, however, as Spike grew quiet, seeming to be at war with himself. What was known and believed, and what was being experienced. Hunter breathed in deeply, hovering over the wolf. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“I know enough about the Hunt strike packs.” Hunter rumbled, slightly breathlessly. “Hunting packs who murdered Nature packs. That the Bloodhounds were one of many such small packs, feared and respected. That you loved the battle. That you long for the days when you could murder and rape to your heart’s content.” 

Growling softly, Hunter let go of one of Spike’s arms, his hand sliding to the man’s heaving chest. He was guessing that Spike missed the days during the war. In a way, he did as well. Living the way he did now, having to think about what had occurred, what he’d lost and witnessed, what he’d done— It had been a simpler time, despite being filled with pain and madness. He didn’t want to go back to those times, yet in the most sick feeling way, he missed them.

“I also know your pack thinks you left.” Hunter added after a pause. “That you grew tired of peace, and your bitch, and you abandoned them for another pack. The Brookhavens, that family you angered, has been spreading word.”

He grinned, breathing in deeply over his bitch, rumbling in pleasure. 

“There’s that scent again. Your heart feels like a rabbit’s under my palm. Makes me want to sink my teeth into you. Pity I never met your pack during the war. I would have done the same to them, and to you, as I did so many others living for the slaughter. Left your pretty head for the weakest in your pack to tell stories of after. Having you here now… What a waste that would have been. My vicious beauty. My bitch.”

His eyes were entirely wolfen as he gazed down at Spike, somewhere between wanting to devour him and to have his way with him again. His hunting during the war had earned him a name, though rarely was he seen beyond a shadow in the night, even now people who hired him had no idea who he was. The Devourer, the lone wolf, the outcast who tore into his prey like a crazed animal. His body count was not nearly as high as Spike’s, but his brutality was beyond that of the bitch laying in his bed.

Spike showed his teeth, glaring up at Hunter above him. The wolf’s voice was deep and low, hushed and almost breathless. The more he spoke however the quieter Spike became. He stared in disbelief at the bastard who knew things about him that were impossible to be known. Personal and intimate information, things that he had not shared with anyone - his longing for the days of the past… The man even knew classified information that only a select group of wolves knew about. Every battle pack was isolated. They themselves were not even aware of others' location and names, only learning more after they had taken down their master - the one that gave them orders and missions to complete during the war, the leader of The Hunt, Volden.

He stared at Hunter with wide unbelieving eyes, his heart racing. He tried to move his hands, but they were trapped under the man’s heavy bulk. But then the man moved his hand himself— slid it down to Spike’s chest. A heavy palm that pressed over his lungs and heart, that beat fast and heavy as Hunter said things that made him feel dizzy.

His pack thought he left ? What was this bullshit ?...

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Spike snarled as his heart continued racing.

It wasn’t true . They wouldn’t believe bullshit like that. That he would abandon them for another pack? They were his family… and what about his bitch? He knew they wouldn’t believe it. Even if it was true they wouldn’t just forget about him and move on. He was their damn alpha ! They would at least try to find him, wouldn’t they? Even if just to give him a piece of their mind.

Why would those bastards from that family even care to spread rumours like that? How would they even know he wasn’t—

Something clicked in his mind. 

That fucking Nature clan; that rich fucking family in their giant mansion – they had been the ones to drop him so close to Hunter’s territory, after they had been done beating the shit out of him. Spike had had no other choice but to cross it to get out of the forest…

This… couldn’t have all been planned…

He looked up to see wolven eyes staring at him, the stench of Hunter – a beast rather than a man. This bloodlust mixed with something else, something mad. As the man spoke of hunting down strike forces during the war, taking down the strong and leaving messages of gore to the weak. It made Spike think of only one wolf. The mad wolf. That silly scary story everyone in the Hunt had heard of. The Devourer… 

It couldn’t be… the maniac that had abandoned his human form; who ate his own kind…

Everything in Spike screamed, his claws growing sharp, his eyes shining with the wolf in him. The fear in him made him shake.

“Get away from me!” Spike gasped low, not enough air to yell as he pushed on Hunter’s chest, claws digging into flesh.

Seeing and smelling the wolf in Spike made his own respond. Hunter snarled, his voice taking on a bark-like roar, shifting just enough to sharpen his claws and his teeth. His claws dug in just above the cub’s heart, one digging in deep enough to scrape Spike’s breastbone. That horror. Spike knew who he was. Knew what he was capable of. Knew the madness he was trapped with. 

Hunter leaned over his prey, dragging in the smell of fear and growing desperation. He caught hold of Spike’s wrist, jerking the claws free from his chest with a bellow. Slamming Spike’s hand down, making the bed bounce wildly under them, he crouched over the man, a low rumble in his throat as he pressed in. He opened his mouth to drag his tongue up Spike’s throat, tasting sweat and remnants of soap. Letting out a shuddering sigh at the taste, he let himself press his teeth to Spike’s throat, biting lightly, groaning.

“I almost ate you in the woods,” he said between his growls, realising his cock was growing hard, held tight in his jeans, as he pressed against the man. “Your blood… the smell of you. The fight in your body. Only your sweet submission, the sounds you made as I fucked you, changed my mind.”

He lifted himself up, keeping his weight off Spike’s hips, somehow still mindful of that injury. He looked into the bitch’s eyes, the panic he saw there lighting that dark place in him he couldn’t get rid off, even with the relative peace. 

“You’re shaking,” Hunter murmured, licking his lips. “Do you know who I am?”

Spike barked at the pain as he felt claws dig into his flesh, reach deep, scrape at his breastbone. He snapped his teeth but the man caught Spike’s arms and with monstrous strength he tore them away from his own chest. The claws that had been dug into the flesh left bleeding marks. As he slammed Spike’s hands down, the mattress shook. His body shook when he felt the tongue on his skin, on his neck. Spike’s growling mixed with a pained whine as he felt the teeth, his body trembling. 

Fear made way to determination. There was a reason Spike had been an alpha and someone others feared - it was because he never showed fear during a fight, no matter what the odds looked like. Somehow his confidence and determination had been greatly shaken by this man, who had defeated and bred him almost to the brink of death. But facing real death, the possibility of it - the reaction he would have to it, wasn’t something he had to think about. If he would die, then he would fight.

With his body pressed to him Spike could feel the man’s growing erection. The sick bastard was even enjoying this…

“Do you plan to kill me?” he asked, voice rumbling deep through clenched teeth. 

The question made another rumble pass through Hunter’s chest, his eyes seeming to flash in the light as he looked down at the pinned bitch. His bitch. Twisted and flawed as he was. That must have been the appeal. Spike was a vicious murderer, had committed similar atrocities, and came out unable to let go of the war. Neither could Hunter. In that respect, they were similar. They had difficulty learning how to live in a peaceful world.

“No...” He growled softly, the slightly crazed grin on his face softening, the muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he raised himself up, weight pressed into the bitch’s wrists. “I plan to make you mine.” 

He let go of one of the Spike’s wrists, his still clawed hand sliding over Spike’s arm, rubbing the muscles as they flexed, eyes trailing down to the claim mark on the man’s shoulder, the other on the back of Spike’s neck barely visible from the front. Even marked and claimed, his bitch could not accept the change in status. As if being a bitch meant Spike must be weak, despite Hunter saying the lack of weakness was what he found appealing.

“You’re as much of a bastard as I am. Vicious. Strong. When you’re well, I know you’ll try to kill me.” The thought made him grin. “I’m looking forward to it. To bend you over again. Or maybe, you’ll be victorious. Will you bend me over, fuck me raw, and kill me, I wonder…”

Hunter chuckled, the sound deep and reverberating from his powerful chest. He leaned down one last time to lick beneath Spike’s bottom lip, before he got off the man, picking up the nearly forgotten waxing strips box. He ripped the seal free, looking in at the individually wrapped strips.

“Seeing as you’re still naked, this makes the next part easier.” Hunter leveled a dark look at his bitch. “Removing your hair. Do I need to chain you down, or are you going to behave?”

Spike looked at the man, surprised that he had an idea of was going through his head. But make Spike his? He couldn't help but laugh deeply, a sound that erupted out of him, making something in his stomach clench and relax when he finally spoke.

"I belong to nobody." he said, voice husky, a smile that was a grimace of teeth.

Hunter leaned closer, releasing one of Spike’s hands to draw his claws over the length of it. Spike’s heart threatened to explode as his breathing got shallow. Hunter claimed that they were the same. He knew what Spike planned to do yet he continued with this madness. He wanted to claim him... A chill ran through Spike’s back, a wave that raised the hairs on his whole body. As Hunter continued speaking, he got even more convinced that the whoreson was fucking crazy. Did he really like the idea of what would happen if he lost? If things were to turn around?

“You're fucking crazy…” his voice was barely a breathless whisper as he exhaled shallow. For some reason something inside him got excited when he imagined beating Hunter down, bending the bastard over and making him his bitch...

Hunter leaned down again. Spike tried to turn his head, frowning as the man ran his tongue under his lower lip. It was just after that, when Hunter reached for the box he had dropped. His heart froze when he watched him take out things—

The fuckin bastard couldn't be serious? And he wanted him to stay still for it? Accept it like a fucking bitch?

“No!” Spike growled, snapping his teeth. Behave?! “Don't fucking dare—”

Hunter smirked, rising from the bed to pick up the chains with their padded, worn shackles. “Crazy?” He asked, grinning wolfishly. “You have no idea, gorgeous.”

Unlocking the shackles to get them ready, Hunter approached. The wolf shone in his eyes before he pounced, grabbing Spike’s arms. It took a little more effort to wrestle his growling bitch into the cuffs, the shorter chain for the wrists strung up through the rungs on the headboard, the chains clattering as he leaned back, straddling Spike’s chest. His cock was slightly less erect, the madness in his eyes giving way to amusement.

“I figure I can chain your ankles as well if I need to, but with your pelvis being broken...” Hunter shrugged, sitting beside Spike on the bed as he opened the box of waxing strips. “It’s fast and easy, or so the box claims.” He read over the instructions again, frowning slightly. “Rub in direction of hair growth… hold skin taut when removing…”

He smiled down at Spike, eyes trailing down to the man’s chest. It was as good a place to start as any. He ran his fingers over the man’s chest, deciding where to place the first strip. The bit of hair between Spike’s pectorals was finer, softer… almost cute. He’d leave that. He shifted to better face the bitch, pulling out one of the strips and removing the backing paper on the oddly pink wax. Pausing, he looked at the man’s face.

“Unless you’d like to start with your ass, precious?” He asked, as if he was really giving Spike an option here. 

Placing the strip over one pectoral, just beneath the nipple, he rubbed the wax to warm it, letting it rest for a moment to cool and adhere, pulled the skin taut, and yanked. Sure enough, the hair very easily came up. Impressed, he continued, ignoring anything beyond his task of waxing Spike’s chest entirely smooth, save for that one spot. 

“That is… incredibly efficient.” Hunter murmured, stroking a hand over the smooth skin, his hand rubbing down to the trail of hair leading to Spike’s groin.

Nothing Hunter said could affect him anymore. Spike was as pissed and as riled up as he could be already. As the wolf approached with the chains and cuffs, Spike growled, showing his teeth. Hunter didn’t wait, he just pounced and Spike struggled with all his might - shoving, pulling, stabbing with elbows and claws but he found his wrists caught. The blood circulation completely cut off as Hunter held his hands to slip the restraints on them. The slightly padded cuffs made it impossible for Spike to slip his hands free even if he dislocated his thumbs or broke his fingers. His arms were pulled up by the chains, over his head, secured firmly to the bed frame.

Spike's breath was punched out of him when the giant man straddled his chest, his cock still visibly straining his pants. It being so close brough the memories of what had happened before, making Spike avert his head to the side.

As Hunter finished cuffing him, his attention moved to the products. Spike glared at him with frightened anger as the man was looking him over. Before Hunter ran his hands over Spike’s body, making him squirm, he was deciding where to stick those waxing strips. Spike tried to twist his body out of his hands but... there was no way. For some reason seeing the sticky paper made Spike unnerved. What was this going to do? It looked like honey on paper. He couldn’t imagine how this would remove his hair—

At Hunter’s comment about his ass, Spike gave his best efforts to try and bite him, but sadly nothing came out of it.

Hunter placed the strip, pressing it to his chest carefully, rubbing it. Spike scoffed between his teeth. This couldn’t possibly do anything— then Hunter pulled it. Spike heard himself bark a startled scream from the sudden sharp pain. He looked down, with misty eyes, at his own chest seeing a bare patch of skin…

After that Spike tried to struggle out of his cuff but Hunter didn't care. He just meticulously continued waxing his chest until it was left smooth and reddened from the ripping. There were spots on his skin where small beads of blood had formed after the hairs were removed, quickly drying on his hot flesh, flaking as he twisted and turned.

Hunter shushed Spike softly, looking at the reddened skin with something approaching concern. He leaned down, gently licking at some of the spots of blood, rumbling low and gently in his throat. He pressed a light kiss between Spike’s pectorals where hair still remained, stroking his hands up the bitch’s sides.

“Be glad you’re not more hairy than you are,” he murmured.

Hunter leaned back, looking over Spike’s twisting body, holding Spike’s waist steady as he looked at the man’s pubic hair. Making a thoughtful sound, fingers tracing out where he wanted to wax, and what hair he wanted to keep, Hunter cut the strips to fit, before following the same procedure, leaving only a somewhat feminine looking soft triangle of hair, the point above Spike’s cock.

“Armpits, too?” Hunter murmured, mostly to himself, sliding back up to apply his strips, easily removing the thick hair with a single yank. “You have to admit, that is impressive.”

He held up the strip covered in dense hair for Spike to see, sighing as he stroked a hand over Spike’s cheek.

“Be glad I’m leaving you any hair, precious.”

Spike's chest was heaving, already tired from this torture. His whole body was trembling. This pain was nothing like anything he had ever experienced, sharp and immediate. He felt like he was being ripped apart, his flesh torn off his bones little by little. 

When Hunter moved to Spike's groin it was real torture. Every time he tried to move or pull away, the pain from his broken pelvis protested, stabbing him from the inside while the ripping of hair assaulted him from the outside. Spike was used to enduring pain, it was a display of power and control over the mind... but it was when Hunter was waxing the soft flesh between his thighs that tears started dropping from his eyes, hips trembling as he bit the inside of his cheeks so hard they started bleeding.

Spike was already out of breath and tolerance the longer this continued. It seemed like each rip felt more painful than the one before. When the hair was ripped out of his armpits he was already weeping.

" It hurts.. ." he sobbed, the skin below the neck - painful red and irritated, as if he had been dipped in boiling water.

Hunter took a moment to look the bitch over, seeing how his skin slightly trembled from the pain. Was it really that terrible? He’d watched people wax before, with hardly any reaction. He hadn’t expected there to be small dots of blood, or for Spike to be crying from the experience. 

“Perhaps a break before the more sensitive areas?” He suggested, the wolf in him having receded back, his hands long since human, the glint as well leaving his eyes.

Gently rubbing Spike’s thigh, away from where he’d waxed the inner part, he got up. It took a little time to get a damp washcloth, the water cold to help soothe away the ache as he gently wiped Spike down. The blood and redness all over the man’s body was distracting, the heat of his bitch’s inflamed body almost hypnotic. Sitting beside Spike, he folded the cloth over to carefully dab at the tears, sliding the cool, damp cloth over Spike’s forehead before pressing a light kiss between his eyebrows.

“Almost done,” Hunter said softly, looking almost sympathetic. He looked into Spike’s eyes. “Will I need to restrain your ankles to get to your ass? Or will you hold still?”

Spike's body was trembling from the pain. The adrenaline in his veins was long gone and it seemed like the pain was just getting stronger despite nothing different being done. Hunter paused and after a few seconds sat up, giving him some space. Spike's body relaxed as he was breathing heavily - all his muscles that had been flexed while enduring the pain, now felt sore.

He was too exhausted to react when the man rubbed his thigh, and he was too preoccupied with resting to notice when or where Hunter left off to. A few moments later however Spike felt a pleasant cool sensation over his hot sensitive flesh. He could feel the motions of being wiped down gently. When he felt that coolness on his face he sighed heavily in small relief. He barely registered the kiss between his brows but it made the creases between them relax.

Hunter spoke again and Spike opened his eyes to look at him. A long, tired and shaken look. 

“Why are you doing this…” Spike whispered, unable to speak more clearly as he blinked away tears. Despite Hunter’s previous claim that it was all for the sake of hygiene, why had he removed almost all the hair on his body? In places that cleaning would not be a problem either way. Perhaps he felt some kind of sick enjoyment putting him through this?

Spike was hoping that this time when Hunter would lift him up to reach his ass, he might be able to choke out that bastard with his legs. Forcing this humiliation on him— He sighed in tired resignation. At least it would all grow back.

There was something almost sweet in how Spike had relaxed under the small kiss he’d given him. Like some long since forgotten sensation, gentleness... It made Hunter blush faintly under his beard. Unkempt as he was, with Spike freshly smooth, he felt a bit… furry. He ran a hand over his beard as he leaned back, trying to read the look in Spike’s eyes.

“I’m doing this because you refused to compromise.” Hunter said, needing to swallow down the thick feeling of… caring more than he’d intended. 

Even with a broken pelvis, it was probably best to restrain his bitch. If anything, it would keep Spike’s legs out of the way so he wouldn’t need to repeatedly move and support each. He reached down for the ankle restraints, clicking them on with a little more ease than shackling Spike’s wrists. 

There were clips on the ends of the ankle chains which were easily joined to the wrist restraints. Thankfully Hunter had not seen the girl chained with everything attached, but it had been clear the purpose behind them. To think of a young girl being restrained like that... He wondered if he was any better now as he eased up Spike’s legs, being careful with the man’s hips. The chains were only temporary, he reminded himself.

He stroked his hand over the man’s exposed ass, eyes focusing on the base of the plug. Carefully, he ran his finger beneath the flared base, stroking over Spike’s hole, checking where all the hair was. Thankfully, the bitch didn’t have any growing directly on his anus. However, right beside the hole… There were smaller strips for more sensitive areas, which… this really was. Placing the first strip, he rubbed it, looking up at Spike. 

“Breathe in,” Hunter warned, waiting for the man to do so, before ripping off the first strip. 

He didn’t waste time, giving the cub time to breathe between each section of hair, removing everything from around the bitch’s anus, over the perineum, finishing off with the last bits of hair he’d missed on Spike’s inner thighs. After, he went over everything with the cool cloth, pressing gently rather than wiping.

“That’s the last of it, dear,” Hunter said softly, looking up. “Just one more step while you’re still locked up, hmm?”

So saying, he picked up the small bottle, his little purchase at the apothecary. A little magical creamy oil, guaranteed to stop hair growth. It needed to be applied to skin free of hair, to be able to reach down into the follicle roots, so the witch had said, while it had no effect on anywhere hair was still present. Hunter didn’t pretend to understand how magical potions and elixirs worked, it was enough that they did. He briefly considered telling Spike what the oil did, but thought it might be more amusing for the bitch to find out on his own.

Gently, Hunter massaged the oil around Spike’s ass, everywhere it was red and bare. “Feel good?” He asked, figuring something that felt so creamy and good on his fingers would be soothing. It made Spike’s skin feel especially soft, so smooth and bare. He massaged it up over the bitch’s inner thighs and around Spike’s groin. 

Unclipping the ankle chains, easing the cub’s legs back down, he continued rubbing in the oil, massaging it all over, just in case he missed a spot. He paused as he rubbed the oil into Spike’s chest, looking at the stubble on the man’s face. It needed a little cleaning up along the edges.

“Ah… whoops,” Hunter said with a slight grin, setting aside the bottle as he wiped off his hands on his shirt. “Missed a spot.” 

There were only a few strips left, the smaller ones meant for the sensitive areas and face. It took only a couple minutes to apply the strips to Spike’s face, removing the messy edges swiftly. Hunter carefully rubbed in more oil, before he removed the rest of Spike’s stubble. He’d been told, once, that waxing made the hair grow in finer, softer. 

“There.” He said with a soft smile, gently pressing the cool cloth into Spike’s jaw. “Finished.”

Spike was doing his best to breathe through the pain. His whole body was throbbing, skin sensitive and irritated. Throughout the whole process he could feel the plug inside him prod deeper, adding to the pain. He looked at Hunter with teary eyes, unable to understand what his words meant. How could Spike compromise being a bitch? Be half a bitch? What did that even mean—

It was all turning into a blur as Spike felt his legs being chained. That bastard… His statement that he wasn’t planning to kill him seemed to be true. There was no way anyone would put so much effort into something they would break and throw away. 

This, however, instead of being comforting, had the opposite effect. 

Spike shivered as he felt a hand stroke over his ass. No matter how much he tried to bring his legs back together it wasn’t working - the chains kept him in place. It made him burn with anger, knowing that he was spreading his legs again for this bastard—

But he didn’t have time to think when the hair from his ass was being ripped off. That spot felt so sensitive that he had to bite into his cheeks to keep from screaming— there seemed to be no end to it.

He breathed hard through clenched teeth when Hunter informed him he was done. He felt so exhausted that he didn’t even have the energy to get disgusted by being called ‘dear’. His hands were rolled into fists as his body refused to relax, the muscles quivering with strain. 

Spike flinched when he felt the hands return on him, touching and rubbing… but it didn’t feel half as painful, feeling his skin sleek and slippery. Spike found himself relaxing his muscles despite his intentions. Stray sounds sometimes escaped him as he felt his sore body forcibly relax, the scent of something sweet and heavy almost making him suffocate. Whatever the man was rubbing over his skin Spike felt it cool and prickle him in a strange way, unpleasant almost but not enough to prompt a reaction out of him. 

He exhaled a choked moan as the man’s fingers rubbed gently but persistently in the crevice of his ass, the softest flesh of his inner thighs, moving up rubbing at his perineum then around his cock. Despite or maybe precisely because his skin was so sensitive, he felt a steady soft warmth of pleasure in his groin as he got semi hard. 

Spike wanted to cry when Hunter told him there was more. What more ? Where? The bastard had already done this on his whole body! In every nook and cranny. Even on his ass. There was no more !

Spike watched in horror as the man put the strips over his face, his breath catching as he forced a sob down. Hunter was even going to take this away from him? Tears rolled down his eyes as he growled and whimpered as the man applied and ripped the strips off. He applied whatever that oil was over his face and then continued ripping… 

When Hunter was done Spike was openly sobbing, his whole body throbbing with pain, feeling cold and sensitive. 

The hair retardant had cost a decent amount, as all magical things did, but if it could deliver on its claims, the money would be worth it. Spike seemed like the sort of person to constantly refuse to do anything even mildly inconvenient to him, expecting everyone else to compromise and adjust. Hunter idly wondered if Spike would be willing to clean out his ass after that last experience, or if everything was going to be a constant fight. He unfastened Spike’s wrists, the chains clattering as he lowered them to the floor, letting the bulk of them drop. 

Kneeling beside Spike, he took a moment to admire how each muscle, slick and glistening, stood out over the man’s body. His bitch was a beautiful man, he’d thought as much when he’d first seen him in that bar. Long hair, warm, tanned skin, strong arms... 

…And a surprising lack of scars. Hunter hadn’t taken the time to look at his bitch, to fully admire him, until now. With every part of Spike laid bare, glistening with oil, he could see how smooth and unblemished the bitch’s skin really was. Unmarked, save for the fresh scars he’d left on Spike’s neck and shoulder, and the already clotted shut claw marks on Spike’s chest. It was surprising, for someone who was so quick to violence, to be without a single scar. Was it all due to Spike’s healing?

His eyes rested on the semi hard cock slightly rising from between Spike’s legs. He hummed low in his throat, oily fingers rubbing over Spike’s shoulders, so tempted to reach down, to stroke the bitch’s cock. Perhaps it was due to the methodical application of waxing strips, or the strangely calming process of rubbing in the oil, but Hunter had relaxed considerably.

The oil needed to sit for a few minutes, long enough to soak in. If Spike came all over himself again, he’d need to wipe him clean, and reapply everything, and that would be a bit suspicious.

Hunter sat back against the headboard, letting out a soft breath. He stroked his beard, the length of it entirely hiding his throat, reaching his chest. Perhaps he should trim it. Such things hadn’t seemed important for so long, but in comparison, with Spike being so smooth...

“Should I trim this?” He asked, genuinely curious, hand moving from his beard to his hair, haphazardly pulled back into a bun. “Would you like that?” He reached down to gently stroke away Spike’s tears. “I used to spend time making myself look good. Would you like that, baby? Me looking good for you?”

Hunter reached to unfasten the restraints around Spike's wrists. With their leather padding they had squeezed around his flesh tight, preventing the cuffs from cutting into his wrists but as he had tried to pull his hands out they had become so tight he had been unable to feel them. When the cuffs finally opened, the pressure in his hands was gone. His arms, that had been kept up, were free to fall from their position. His shoulders felt relieved, as he heard the clanking of metal on the floor. Spike stayed like that, frozen in the position he had fallen into unchained. He needed a moment just to breathe, get his bearings together. The pain from the waxing had become dull, leaving behind a sensitivity on his skin. 

Spike's shoulders tensed as Hunter reached and rubbed his fingers over them. Whatever Hunter was rubbing into him - oil or cream - it felt better. Even if it brought with itself painful numbness. He felt him continue rubbing that oil into his arms. It was cool but at the same time it stung. He groaned, bothered by the sensation.

"What is that...?" he complained with a frown. The more it stayed on, the more unpleasant it felt.

Spike stretched his back as his sore muscles groaned. He felt stiff and tired as he breathed in and out deeply, his stomach dipping flat, making his ribs stand out. He watched as the man got up on the bed, sitting with his back pressed to the headboard. At his question Spike’s expression didn’t change. He looked impassively at the wolf. He didn’t know what difference it would make. It wouldn’t change who the man was, or what he was doing to him… Spike just felt too tired to even think about it, his whole body was sore.

"Do what you want." he answered, his voice still weak. Spike turned his head away, his expression losing its energy when he thought Hunter couldn't see him. 

He was tired... And troubled. These things that were done to him were starting to eat at him. The things Hunter said about his pack, about the rumors the Nature clan had spread, ate at his heart... Had all truly abandoned him?

Hunter smiled slightly to himself. It wasn’t surprising that Spike didn’t seem interested in what he looked like, but the disappointment he felt at just being brushed off was confusing. Perhaps it was because he had invested so much time in looking after his bitch that he’d hoped for a different reaction? He didn’t know. The strange, conflicting feelings, that he shouldn’t care what Spike thought, and that he was almost upset that Spike didn’t care, annoyed him.

“The oil is to help with the hair removal,” Hunter replied simply, getting up off the bed.

It seemed they were done fighting for now, Spike back to pretending to ignore him, the house once again silent save for the chickens clucking softly outside. Trying to ignore the odd feeling of loneliness he felt, Hunter headed into the bathroom. If anything, he should wash off, get the smell of scared girl and frightened man off of him, wash away the flecks of blood on his arms.

He was no longer living as an animal. He needed to remember that. The Devourer might still live on, in the darker parts of him, but he didn’t roam the woods and enter others’ territories, looking for blood. He got paid to bring people in now. He had chickens to feed. Laundry to wash. A bitch to train.

He stood before the mirror for a long few minutes, before he finally looked up at his reflection. He couldn’t help but stare in surprise at himself. Hunter didn’t look at himself much these days. The occasional glance to check a wound, to make sure the movement he saw in the mirror was just himself. He grumbled softly at his reflection, scraping his fingers through his beard, touching his neck through all the hair.

With the pup’s ass so bare, all this beard would tickle, scrape uncomfortably, and get in the way. It had gotten in the way earlier when he’d eaten that sweet hole, getting covered in drool. He wrinkled his nose, turning to rummage through the closet. 

He still had all the things from his old life, tools he’d used to trim and maintain his beard before. Oils to work into his skin and make his beard soft, manageable. It had been so many years, he briefly wondered if his trimmer still worked, or if he even remembered how to use it. He brought the little basket of grooming tools to the sink, the soft floral cloth liner another of his wife’s touches, looking back up at himself as he picked up a pair of scissors.

Before he lost his nerve, Hunter grabbed a chunk of his beard and snipped it off. Well. Now he was lopsided. Might as well finish it. Not like he was only doing this for that ungrateful bitch in his bed. Perhaps, by getting his beard under control, he would start to feel a little more civilized. Leave the war and the death behind. Yeah. Right. As if removing a bunch of hair could do that, though it had seemed to deflate some of Spike’s fight, though that was probably more due to the pain.

He continued snipping away tufts of beard, dropping handfuls into the trash, rubbing his fingers through as he tried to even it out enough to use the trimmer. Seeing his old face slowly get revealed was startling. He hadn’t seen that man in years. He frowned at himself, setting aside the scissors to plug in the trimmer. He was briefly assaulted with a memory, soft hands rubbing over his stomach, a smiling face looking over his shoulder. Sweet words spoken into his neck. A promise for more.

Shaking his head, banishing the thought, Hunter set to work. He’d spent so many years maintaining his appearance, his hands seemed to remember the motions. The wild beast in him was soothed as he trimmed and sculpted his beard, keeping it short as he used to, shaving away the snarling hairs above his beard line, slowly scraping the human back out of the monster. He shaved away the hair from his neck, revealing the long, thick length of it, hands sliding over his neck, belatedly remembering he still had some of that oil clinging to his fingertips.

Chuckling, as now he wouldn’t need to shave his neck again, Hunter looked at himself again. Dimples. He’d forgotten his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. Damn. Had it really been so long?

He treated his hair in much the same way, releasing the somewhat oily mass from its bun, cutting it into a shorter, a little shorter than he meant, style. None of his past employers were going to recognise him. Just as well. In his line of work it paid to be unrecognizable. Rinsing off all his tools, he stepped into the tub, running a bath as he scrubbed and cleaned himself. He hadn’t bothered to grab the new shampoo he’d bought Spike, so he used the citrusy, orange blossom, the scent making his chest ache until he rinsed it all away.

Sighing, wrapped in a towel, he finally emerged from the bathroom, water clinging to his chest hair. He gave Spike a small glance as he headed to the dresser, rummaging about for something to wear. “You want a shirt?” He asked after a moment, knowing the oil had probably soaked in enough. “Or a bath first?”

Spike couldn’t relax. What did Hunter mean by that? What the hell was in that bottle? 

It didn’t matter if he was left alone or not. It wasn’t just feeling on edge. He had been dragged here, in this place, his freedom and mobility taken away. Hunter had done whatever he wanted with him. Death was always one step away if he made the wrong move. He managed to sleep in the moments where his fatigue got the better of him but couldn’t sleep for more than a few hours at the time, his ears always sharp. Sometimes he woke up in a startle from random noises outside, a bird yapping or a branch clacking against the window. It made him even more tired despite spending all his time in bed. 

It was why he found himself drifting off when he saw Hunter go into the bathroom.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but when he woke up his chest felt strangely hot while his body felt cold. He was still naked and slathered in god knows what. Oil? He couldn’t say. Whatever it was, it irritated his skin…

Spike went to wipe it away, hands swiping over his chest only to freeze in the middle of the motion. The smooth soft skin under his fingers startled him. He lifted his hand looking at his oiled up fingertips - it was his hand still. Then he propped himself on his elbows, high enough so he could look down at himself. 

Something twisted in his stomach at the sight of his body. Hairless and glistening. Soft smooth skin, a flush clearly visible over his chest, his nipples pink and still swollen from Hunter sucking on them… Looking down at himself like this— his chest really looked like women’s tits. His whole body below also looked weird. Soft…

He dropped down from his elbows, breathing heavily, sleep completely purged from his mind by the shock he experienced. With heart beating wildly he saw the feet of the man who got out of the bathroom. He was already familiar with the way Hunter walked when he was relaxed. He had washed himself, Spike noticed.

Spike had been staring into the same spot on the floor when he heard the rummaging in the dresser beside the bed. He moved his eyes toward the man… and froze.

Who the hell was this person?

He spoke and it was Hunter’s voice that came out.

“ Huh ?” Spike asked bewildered, staring. Could a person look this different even if they tried?

Hunter looked nothing like the man he had grown used to looking at with his huge bushy beard and long unkempt hair. No his hair was almost short while his beard had turned into a dark stubble—

All that was pushed aside as his brain actually processed what the man had said. 

“I’m covered in oil.” he said like it should have been something obvious. He wouldn’t really care if he dirtied the clothes he was given but he had come to learn that this man… really liked things clean.

Hunter chuckled at the flat answer. Even if Spike wasn’t meaning to be funny, the tone and the statement made him grin. His face felt so strange, his skin almost cold from being free from the beard. He hadn’t really thought how warm all that hair had kept his face and neck. He tugged on a shirt and a pair of boxers, hanging his towel up on a peg. Rubbing a hand over his face, unable to get used to the feeling yet, and liking the sensation of his fingers touching his bared cheeks, he walked back over to his bitch.

“Silly question,” he admitted.

Spike looked like a cranky child. Tired and annoyed with everything. Hardly surprising, as he was pretty sure the cub didn’t sleep much, too on edge, as he should be, living in a predator’s den, and being made to endure what he had. Sitting down on the bed, Hunter leaned over him, smiling, his cheeks dimpling as he took in the cub’s annoyance with everything.

“Surprised you didn’t investigate the bottle,” he said softly, shifting as he slid his arms beneath the man’s shoulders and knees. He tried to be careful, not wanting to mess up whatever healing Spike had managed with his pelvis, supporting most of the man’s weight with his hold around his chest. “I think the label is written in Latin anyway. All right, up we go. Hold onto me.”

Spike felt the mattress shift and body heat coming close to him. His eyes followed the wolf’s face that was staring at him way too closely… It was strange looking at the man like this, yet it wasn’t difficult to get used to. Hunter could have been hiding behind  a beard but  his eyes still looked the same.

Before he had time to react, he was lifted up with surprisingly gentle hands that also held him firmly enough not to manage to wiggle out of them. Not that there was any point to that - he would just find himself on the floor unable to move.

His worries about the bottle were forgotten as the man started walking toward the bathroom. Spike’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest. His shaking arms pulled close to his own chest, pressing into Hunter since the man held him so close. Spike's eyes quickly looked up at his face and down, making sure there was no rage written on it, the one he remembered from last time. 

Was he… scared of the bathroom? 

This was ridiculous. It couldn’t be. Spike had faced countless battles and just as many close calls to his life, but he had never felt like this. He had looked at the bathroom from the bed without feeling anything, so why did he feel so frightened now? There was cold sweat on the back of his neck, heart slamming against his chest with every step.

Feeling the cub freezing and tensing up in his arms, Hunter paused, looking down at him. Spike’s eyes were wide, full of fear, his arms pulled in so tight. For a moment, he was completely confused, at a loss as to why the man was so terrified, but it slowly sank in. 

He’d nearly killed Spike in here. Fucking him hard enough to have the man bleeding severely. The memory of the smell of blood and torn tissues came back to him in a rush as he looked down into the man’s eyes.

“I’m just helping you into the bath,” Hunter said, voice soft, a little husky. “Just going to put you in the water.”

He waited a moment, knowing that he was probably the last person who should be attempting to comfort Spike. However, he couldn’t stop himself as he gave his bitch a small squeeze, hugging him against his chest. Slowly, he nuzzled against the side of Spike’s head, before pressing a kiss to Spike’s temple. 

“Just a bath. I promise.” He murmured into Spike’s hair, kissing again. “I won’t hurt you like that again. I’m sorry I did. If you prefer, we can go back to the bed, wash you there.” He pressed another kiss to Spike’s cheek, nudging him, giving a soft, comforting wolf grunt.

Spike’s heart was beating in his throat. He was unable to break the eye-contact when Hunter stared back into his eyes. It was like he was frozen, expecting to see something that didn’t come. Instead he saw confusion and then recognition. 

Did Hunter know why Spike was reacting like this? If he did then Spike felt envious because he didn’t understand anything. It was true that he had almost died… but it wouldn’t have been his first time. Perhaps what scared him was the fact that he had felt completely helpless to stop it. That was a first for him. A plaything in Hunter’s hands and he had blacked out in the middle of it. Something had snapped in his mind as he was being mercilessly fucked, his insides and ass completely torn… He didn’t remember. He remembered being on the cold floor, claws scratching and sliding on the tiles—

It was difficult pushing that feeling aside. He had tried to remember the things that escaped him for days, but every time he tried to recall the bathroom his body grew cold, sweat rolling down his neck and back and he couldn’t force himself to relive it again in his mind. He knew it was unfit for someone like him but his chest still felt cold and tight at the memory of it. 

Spike knew this couldn’t continue. How could he call himself a man if he couldn’t move easily past this? So he forced himself to relax, as much as it was possible - a poor imitation of nonchalance that broke as he was squeezed harder into Hunter’s arms. An immediate rush of adrenaline prepared him for injury or fight— but instead Hunter gently nuzzled the side of his head, pressing a kiss on his throbbing temple. He stifled a small whine at the unexpected softness, his naked cold body slowly warming up

He couldn’t look at Hunter, he couldn’t know what his expression was like.  His wildly beating heart calmed as he felt a heartbeat close to his own. A promise, an apology… more kisses and nudges. What he responded to however was the comforting wolfish grunt, his own wolf answering back with a growl that turned soft and unsure

He coughed, clearing his voice as it still proved difficult not only because of the new lump in his throat but also the passing injury to his vocal cord. 

“I’m— I’m fine.” he spoke with a defiant growl, stomping on his wildly beating heart.

Spike couldn’t be afraid. He couldn’t show weakness, least of all from something as silly as a memory of a fight that was already in the past. He had almost been killed, but that had happened countless times during the war. Why was this time so different?

“I’m not a baby. I can wash myself.”

Hunter continued looking at the man, feeling… ashamed? A bit. He’d never had anyone live after he’d brutalized them. This was a new experience for him. While he was sure Spike deserved to suffer in some way, and he was sure, with his anger and Spike’s incredible ability to set him off, there would come a time, again, when he would savagely hurt him. Unless he learned to control it. It had been so long since he’d lived with anyone. He’d nearly forgotten how. He had to control himself, for both of them. His heart beat hard and heavy at the thought.

“I know you’re not,” he replied, grunting softly again. 

He gave Spike a little more time to settle, hugging, before continuing into the bathroom. Carefully, he settled Spike down into the tub, making sure he was leaning back instead of sitting on his pelvis. He turned on the water, getting the temperature warm but not too hot, sticking in the stopper to let it fill. As the tub filled, he stepped away to get a soft sponge and washcloths, tugging the floor stool back over to sit on it. He wet one of the cloths, wringing it out, and lifted Spike’s hair out of the way to drape the cloth over the back of Spike’s neck.

“I’ll be right back with your shampoo and soap, all right?” He said, leaning his arms on the edge of the tub. He got up with a grunt, going into the bedroom to bring back the good shampoo and woody smelling soap. “Would you like any help?” Hunter asked, double checking the heat of the water. “Warmer water? Cooler?”

Spike felt the water slowly cover his body in warmth, for some reason gaze focusing on the ripples in the water instead of anything else. It was the first time he was back in this bathroom since that day. He was pathetic for showing so much weakness, acting like a weakling despite years of tempering in violence and blood. But he was not devoid of emotions no matter how much he wished he was. The stupid thing about emotions was that they couldn’t be disposed off and they couldn't be completely controlled, not with brute force at least and Spike didn't know any other way. He would replace fear with anger. The memory of pain would become his fuel. The sense of helplessness would become a conviction for strength. Like it had in the past. It would just... need some time. 

He grunted as a sign that he was listening as Hunter explained. Spike was relieved when the man left him alone for a moment. The tension in him eased. He took some time to breathe and calm himself before the wolf was back. 

"I'm not crippled. I can do it myself ." Spike said defensively, before he reached for the soap determined to scrub this oil out of his skin. He didn’t even want to know what it was.

Hunter watched Spike for a moment more, getting up a little stiffly. He had no reason to feel awkward. The bastard had murdered so many innocents during the war. He shouldn’t be feeling anything other than justified in nearly killing him. Yet here he was, feeling guilty, even angry with himself for losing control.

“Call me when you’re done, or if you need anything.” Hunter said simply, heading to the door. He waited a moment, looking over his shoulder, before walking out, closing the door most of the way behind him.

While Spike bathed, Hunter got the small amount of laundry he needed to get done loaded up. He was amazed he still remembered how to get blood out of clothing, considering for years he hadn’t cared. With his hair trimmed, however, and a bitch to look after, he felt the odd need to get domestic, to do chores, remind himself how to do everything so he could show Spike later. It felt normal. Normal was good. Normal was something he hadn’t done in years.

He stared out the window in the kitchen as he scrubbed at the bloodstains with a toothbrush, wondering what exactly had changed. Perhaps it was the desire to just… move on. Even with a known war criminal in his home, one he was sure the Brookhavens were expecting him to have killed by now. Honestly, he was amazed he hadn’t. Amazed he wanted the man around. Amazed he was feeling comforted having the company.

He must have gone entirely insane.

With everything in the wash, and dinner reheating in the oven, Hunter grabbed one of his shirts for Spike to wear. He hung close by the bathroom door. Surely Spike was done by now. Unless the bitch was taking his time on purpose, either to annoy him, or just enjoying bathing. Though… tired as Spike was, could he have fallen asleep in the tub? Was he under the water? Why did he care?

He peeked in before walking inside. “Are you done?” He said, setting the shirt on the sink. “Let the water out if you are. It’ll be easier to dry you off.”

Spike had pushed all other thoughts aside and just washed himself. Rubbed his skin to remove the oil. It was baffling to see it wash off like something else and not oil despite it feeling like that to the touch... He felt a small panic rise, wondering what the hell it was. Perhaps something else normal that he had no idea about, like the fucking wax strips. Why would he know about human things meant for removing body hair? 

Spike moved on to his hair. It had been pulled more times in the span of the last week and a half than it had been through his whole life— He was gentle with it, taking his time.

As he washed his body Spike was disgusted by the smooth feeling of his skin. It felt like touching silk... Cold and smooth and strangely numb.

In the end when he couldn't think of anything else to wash he called that he was done. Hunter entered, carrying clothes in his hand - not the lacy thing from before. Spike breathed a sigh of relief as he left the water drain.

As there had once been several people in the home, there were plenty of towels of various sizes and thickness. Hunter pulled out a long, thick, plush one, approaching the tub slowly. The reaction earlier had him trying to look less imposing, though why that was a concern he didn’t know. He felt a stir of annoyance as he sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing Spike’s shoulders with the towel as the water drained. 

With the man’s hair he was careful, recalling something about gently pressing water from long hair, rather than scrubbing it dry. Something about reducing damage? Once the water was gone, he wrapped the towel around Spike, lifting the man up.

“Hold onto me so I can get your legs,” he murmured, still confused and annoyed with his reactions. He should be treating Spike like a bitch, like the man had treated others before. “Going to have to get your ass as well.” 

And now he was warning the man before just rubbing him dry. Had there been power in his beard? Some kind of rough, alpha bullshit? Or was it just the current situation, knowing how frightened Spike had been to be in the bathroom? The slowly growing need he felt to protect and soothe his bitch, rather than constantly manhandle him?

Once he’d gotten Spike mostly dried off, he wrapped the towel around him, scooping him back up, grabbing the shirt as they left the room. Even the solid feeling of the man in his arms was welcome, the weight almost settling him. He’d been alone for too long. Just this amount of company was soothing him, even knowing the man hated him, and he wasn’t entirely fond of Spike either. 

Getting Spike onto the bed, he left the shirt beside him on the mattress. “How are you hips feeling?” He asked, remembering, belatedly, that Spike wouldn’t be able to join him for dinner, not while he was still healing around the plug.

Spike could see Hunter was purposefully being slow as he approached the tub, since he already knew how fast the wolf could be. He froze in his place, hands holding at the curved edge of the tub, his mind flashing back to the memory of Hunter rushing at him and dragging him out of the water by his hair— Spike was ready to defend himself but as the man sat close, he could tell the man had no intention to fight. Instead Spike reluctantly let him dry his hair with a big towel. It was strange how Spike was unable to think or move carelessly in this place…

After being covered in a towel, he had no choice but to let Hunter lift him up. His heart pounded wildly as he wrapped his hands around Hunter’s neck. Since there was no way for his waist to support his weight he had to hold himself up somehow. He felt cold sweat on the back of his neck as the man dried his legs. Spike’s chest was pressed against Hunter’s as he held on. He could clearly feel his heart trying to climb up his throat when the towel moved to his ass.

He bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He was angry that he had no choice. He couldn't even get out of this tub without help... He could do nothing but tremble slightly as he was being picked up again and carried out. How was this bastard even lifting him up? Spike had never been carried like this in his life. It was bizarre how the man seemed to carry him as if he barely weighed anything—

His mind was blank as he stared at the scratched up tiles on the floor…

Hunter crossed the door and stepped back into the bedroom. The second Spike was out,it felt as if a weight got lifted off his shoulders. Spike refused to hold himself up onto Hunter now that his mind was not completely clouded, so he ended up dropping to the bed despite Hunter's effort to let him down gently.

Being asked how he was, irritated him.

“It hurts." Spike replied with a show of his teeth. His bones mending and fusing was one thing. The huge plug inside him however was another, shifting and stabbing his guts if he tried to sit. Both brought him different kinds of pain.

If Spike was going to have this reaction every time he was in the bathroom, this was going to become a problem. Hunter couldn’t exactly move where the bathtub was located. 

There was the upstairs bathroom, though it hadn’t been used in years, and was attached to his daughter’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tear off that old bandage. The only other option for washing was the old washtub and a shallow industrial floor sink in the basement. The basement still smelled of damp, and the tiles were constantly dirty. Hunter wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse.

He nodded at Spike’s words. “Right. I know.” He sat beside Spike, accepting the show of teeth without feeling aggression.

He wasn’t going to coddle Spike. He wasn’t entirely sure Spike deserved that sort of kindness, nor did Hunter think any kind of gentleness would be received well. Spike seemed to prefer things rough. Though, gentleness did seem to be the way to best disarm the man. It might be seen as demeaning, but at the same time, Hunter wasn’t sure he had it in him to be gentle or kind, beyond what he’d already done. 

He got up from the bed, peeling away the towel he wore, as he headed back to the dresser. He took out a couple shirts, tugging on one, before he turned back to the bed. 

“I’d offer underwear, but I don’t want to disturb your pelvis more than necessary.” Hunter murmured, frowning slightly, not sure what he was feeling.

Spike put on the shirt he was given despite feeling strange wearing nothing else.

After that he was left to rest, the day already too eventful. He was tired from all of it - from being scared, from the pain, from the mental shock of being waxed, made hairless like a woman. He couldn’t take anymore, not after enduring the bizarre fear he felt being in that bathroom again. He had never experienced anything like it in his life…

He fell asleep easily. The days after that slipped away almost at a frightening rate. Before Spike knew it he had gotten used to the feeling on his skin being completely smooth, the sheets and covers sliving over freely. A slight stubble had grown over his face, but he was worried that he couldn’t feel stubble over his body, not one hair besides those spots Hunter had left out. But since Spike had never removed or shaved his body hair he decided to give it more time before he would consider it a problem.

It wasn’t long before the pain in the pelvis disappeared and Spike found that he could move around freely on the bed. When that happened the first thing he tried to do was remove that plug out of himself. As he pulled, enduring the horrifying sensation of his hole stretching— he was immediately assaulted with pain in his waist… as if some support inside him, for his healing bones had been removed. He had no choice but to slip it back in, the pain reducing to a dull ache. He cried after that, convinced that there would be no end to this hell of humiliation.

After composing himself, the next thing Spike did was try and get out of bed. Whenever Hunter would be out of the house, Spike would try to stand on his own. Perhaps it would be even possible for him to just walk out unobstructed while the other wolf was away. His legs however couldn’t support his weight properly. Not only that but he found it difficult to maintain his balance or posture even standing completely still. After his attempts he found himself with bruised knees as he fell to the floor numerous times. That didn’t stay unnoticed by Hunter. Spike was terrified of what the man would do to him if he knew he had been doing things behind his back. So he denied any knowledge of the bruises, which even with his quick regeneration, couldn't completely fade.

As the days passed, Hunter grew more and more used to having another wolf in the cabin. It was… nice. Yes, nice. Even if Spike didn’t want to wait for him, didn’t like seeing him, the loneliness which had been growing into a deep chasm inside him was slowly starting to fill. It was difficult, of course, like a wound growing from the inside out, raw and uncomfortable. But, he was slowly finding it easier to speak, to start to remember what it had been like before to want to actively seek out companionship. He wouldn’t be like he was before the war, but he didn’t feel as distant from himself. The man in the mirror didn’t seem like a stranger. He found himself even talking more with his clients, who had been surprised by the change in his appearance, but reacted more positively towards him.

Life with Spike, despite the unpleasant experiences, was definitely good for him. Once the bitch was fully healed, he wanted it to be at least tolerable for Spike, maybe even good once the man had adjusted to life as a claimed bitch.

When he saw the bruises, he’d been surprised. He figured Spike must have been trying to walk around the room, but with the man denying he knew anything about the bruising, he wondered if it wasn’t some kind of complication from the bitch’s pelvis healing. He didn’t know as much about healthcare as his older sister, though he had learned a few useful things. 

“No idea?” Hunter asked, running his hands up Spike’s smooth legs, stopping when he came to the bruised knees. “In that case…”

He moved Spike’s legs carefully, parting them so he could look at the bitch’s inner thighs. There didn’t seem to be any other sign of bruising, the skin wasn’t hot to the touch, just a pleasant warmth as they should be. 

The shirt he’d given Spike to wear barely didn’t cover the man’s genitals, though it did obscure the bitch’s hips. With the same care, his brows slightly drawn together with concern, he slid the shirt up, lightly smacking Spike’s hands away. No other signs of trauma, the skin smooth and unblemished. Letting out a breath, Hunter tugged back down the bitch’s shirt, looking up at Spike’s face. Slowly, the concern slid away to soft amusement.

“If you wanted to get up and walk around, you could lean on me.” Hunter rumbled, dark blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Better than the strength exercises we do.”

Spike couldn’t admit to anything. For the first time in his life he had to think about what he said. Not only that but he had to be careful about how he spoke when he did open his mouth. Having Hunter catch him in his lie about the bruises on his knees was not good. 

Cold sweat beaded on his neck, sure that the man would not take any of this well. His stomach twisted as the wolf ran his fingers over his legs. It took all of his self-control to keep still, swallow his anger down - daring to touch him so freely… Hunter did it all the time. It had been a week and a half and it was as humiliating and infuriating as the very first day.

His heart beat fast, clenching his teeth as he stifled down a growl when Hunter parted his legs. Fingers running over his inner thighs made his legs flinch and growl, pulling how the shirt he wore as Hunter pushed it up. The smack over his hands made him let go of the fabric almost immediately… shocked how quick he had been to comply.

Spike didn’t know what to make of it when he didn’t see anger on Hunter’s face but instead he saw an amused smile.

“You…” he spoke, hesitantly. He would let him? He wasn’t angry that he was trying to build up his strength?— being stuck in bed, at the wolf's mercy was starting to become draining to Spike. Things that he wouldn’t have let slide before - being touched or spoken down to - now he allowed because he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t… “I want to get up.” he said reluctantly since he didn’t like the idea of leaning on the bastard.

He had never been in bed for so long. Never needing more than a few days to mend bones, though he had never injured his pelvis and he doubted he would heal a broken spine if that occurred. His worries that something was wrong and he wasn’t healing properly had lifted since he noticed the visible improvement in his condition.

He couldn’t stand being in bed anymore. He was sure he would lose his mind.

The myriad of emotions passing through Spike’s eyes gave Hunter pause. Did his bitch really think he wanted him bedridden? Of course he wanted Spike to improve. The reluctant agreement pushed a small sigh between Hunter’s lips, followed by a smile. 

“I want you up, too.” Hunter murmured, touching Spike’s waist. “But first, seeing as you can already stand…” His hands slid down to cradle Spike’s hips. “Let’s take this out. If it hurts too much to remove it, it may need to stay in longer. It’s probably time.”

He lifted the shirt higher, pausing as he saw how much more slender Spike’s waist seemed. Save for a small bump, slightly to the side, near one hipbone. The plug, pressed inside deep, visible. Hunter couldn’t help but stare, thinking of his own cock, longer than the plug. It would be visible from the outside as well.

Swallowing, Hunter made himself look away. He needed to get Spike up and moving. If Spike was able to stand, the stretcher had done its work. He lifted Spike’s legs, kissing one of the bruised knees as he did.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, and we can leave it in for a bit longer to be sure you’ve healed.” 

Carefully, Hunter gripped the base of the plug. He glanced up at Spike, before looking back down. Slowly, he began easing the plug out, giving Spike time to tell him to stop. It looked massive as it stretched Spike’s hole open. He massaged around Spike’s anus, trying to get the muscles to relax, and pulled again. That tiny hole. How did anything like this fit? How had he fit before?

The plug narrowed down the further to the tip of the shaft it went, finally sliding free. Hunter looked up, rubbing his hands up Spike’s waist.

“Do you want to rest a moment? Have something to drink?” Hunter asked. “Or get up and move?”

Hunter's hands were on Spike’s waist. For some reason Spike couldn't help but feel like he had shrunk looking at the size of the wolf's palms over his stomach.

The hands slid down and his hips, making his body shiver. The trembling continued as he was told that Hunter would take the plug out. It should have been a relief. Spike still couldn't believe he had this thing inside him for so long, keeping him stuffed and open. He had felt his bones being forced to fuse around it, the process painful and long.

But he had tried to take it out days ago and it had hurt. He had been mortified that he was forced to stuff it back in when the pain almost made him pass out.

Sweat covered his neck as the man pulled his shirt higher, revealing his stomach and part of his ribs. His knees trembled as they were lifted up, being kissed. He was breathing fast, trying to hide just how horrified he was. Because his body had been forced to heal strangely. And one healed, there was no going back to how it used to be. Healing around a huge plug inside him... What did that make him? Would it be visible? Would he be able to look in a mirror and see himself?—

He could feel the pressure on the plug before Hunter started to pull. Spike groaned, startled and humiliated as he could feel his hole stretching. He whimpered as he was forced to open around the thick girth of the plug. As the toy was pulled out of him Spike was suddenly left feeling with a deep emptiness and ache inside. He gasped and his body trembled, the plug being pulled completely out... He breathed heavily, shaken, confused and worried. His hand that had been gripping at the sheets moved over his stomach where he could feel the deep ache, registering how flat his stomach felt. He had definitely lost some weight...

Hunter’s eyes were staring at Spike’s waist. He didn’t think it was due to the slight widening of the bitch’s hips, but Spike’s waist definitely felt smaller. His bitch hadn’t had much in the way of body fat, lean and strong, but what flesh Spike did possess had slimmed down. He could easily feel Spike’s hipbones. As a test, he wrapped his hands around Spike’s waist—

His thumbs met in the centre. Just barely, but they were touching. Nearly two weeks of fluids, changing the IV bags frequently to try and keep up with Spike’s impressive metabolism, and he still hadn’t managed to keep the bitch from losing weight. 

“We need to get you back on solids soon.” Hunter breathed out, getting up off the bed. “Roll onto your side, both legs together. Then sit up. Take it slow. I have some nutritional shakes that should help get you back to your usual strength. With how impressive your healing is, it shouldn’t be long before you’re able to eat.”

He held his hands out, waiting for Spike to take them. He braced his feet, looking into the wolf’s eyes.

“Are you experiencing any pain? More than you can push through?”

Spike couldn't really tell how much thinner he had gotten— not before Hunter wrapped his hands around his waist and the thumbs on both his hands connected. He watched that horrifying sight in shock. He had never considered himself slim, even when he had been forced to starve for a while. He had always stood taller than others since there were few who matched his height, and in a fight he had never lost even with less meat on his bones. Now, however, he felt weak and small— vulnerable. He had never allowed himself to end up in a position like that. He had always needed to make sure he could protect himself and crush anyone who dared to threaten him. That was how he had remained alpha for so long.

Now… he clearly felt the shift in power - how he had become weaker while Hunter had not changed at all. It… it couldn’t be because he was claimed as a bitch? He knew about it - how bitches had a distinct lack of strength. Even those that had not been weak before had turned bitch and eventually became soft and feeble. It was just the way bitches were…

That couldn’t be happening to him. That was not… it wasn’t even possible. There was no supernatural force that could change his body even if he had been defeated in a fight. It wasn’t like he had never lost a sparing match— but he had been fucked. He had been forced to heal around a plug in his ass… Could that be it? Could something like that change him? Physically? Mentally—

No. That wasn’t possible. Spike’s thoughts had spiraled out of control and he needed to get himself together. He had been sick and injured and only fed fluids through tubes. It wasn’t strange that he had lost weight. He was still the same as always. He had not shrunk in any way. He was just tired and underfed. He just needed to focus on recovering, eating and moving around. In the end he would become stronger for it.

Spike gritted his teeth as he got on his side and took his legs off the bed, sitting up. He could feel a dull ache inside, his body protesting the movement. He stretched his back, pulling his shoulders back until something popped and the pain in his back was eased. 

“I’m fine.” he said, resenting being treated like a weakling. He could endure this much. This much was nothing.

Hunter wondered what was going on in Spike’s mind. The dark and almost scared looks, the concern that wrinkled his bitch’s brow, then the smooth settling of any nerves. His bitch and he were so similar; shoving back anything that bothered them, that kept them from their goal. 

He huffed softly in amusement as Spike brushed off his concern, taking the wolf’s hands in his. “I’m not asking to coddle you,” he grunted as he pulled as Spike stood. “If you push too fast, you could re-injure yourself.”

He steadied Spike, keeping the man upright. Glancing down, he could see how the bitch’s legs trembled ever so slightly, but held. He took a step back, urging Spike forward.

“Slowly. Small steps. Don’t need you falling again.” He gave Spike a teasing grin. “Nice as you feel in my arms, the goal is walking.”

Spike almost ripped his hand out of Hunter’s grip. The man was simply helping him to stand up, but Spike couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to take the help of the wolf who had beaten, humiliated and fucked him almost to death— Despite that however, he had no choice. He couldn’t stand up without the help, but he couldn’t help the growl that left his mouth as he was being pulled.

He didn’t believe Hunter’s concern. Or at the very least he wasn’t stupid enough to think it was actual care for him. If anything Hunter would be getting tired of taking care of him, even if he believed he was his bitch. Which Spike wasn’t.

The moment Spike was healed and regained his strength, he would put an end to this absurdity. 

When he got up on his feet he felt unsteady. For some reason it wasn’t only the weakness in his legs that was the problem. There was something wrong with his balance. When he took a step it felt as though his legs were in a completely wrong position— or maybe it was his posture? 

He couldn’t say what it was but it made walking considerably more difficult. It was as if he was learning to walk for the first time.

There was a slight… roundness to Spike’s hips which Hunter couldn’t recall. It was only the smallest amount, and could just be an illusion from Spike having lost weight, his waist smaller, but something about it made desire stir in Hunter’s stomach. 

He growled back at Spike, looking into the wolf’s eyes. Now was not the time for the bitch to get pissy. He was helping, making sure Spike didn’t collapse back on his knees. 

“Prideful brat,” he grumbled, taking a few more steps back, watching as Spike wobbled forward, hands tight around Spike’s to keep him from slipping. “Was I wrong in thinking you actually want to get better? Or do you prefer being flat on your back, just waiting for the next time I spread you open and fuck you?”

He pulled Spike closer, adjusting his hold to the bitch’s elbows, snarling softly in his face. Slowly, he smiled, taking another step back, leading him.

“You need to be able to challenge me, don’t you?” Hunter husked out, clearly pleased with the idea. “Fight and try to break the claim? Show me just how powerful you are? My vicious beauty?”

Hunter's remarks were always insulting, but the man never insulted him using normal words, those that Spike used himself or he had heard others use for him.

Brat? He had never been called 'brat' in his life. It was a degrading insult for someone weak and small, perhaps very young. That was the only time he had heard others use it. It was certainly not a word that should be associated with Spike.

He gripped the man harder with the intention to cause pain but instead it served to help his balance.

Spike growled, showing his teeth at the hateful provocation. As if Spike would want any of that. The bastard must be saying it just to piss him off. But for the life of him Spike couldn't understand why Hunter was helping him heal, helping him walk. Why? A bastard like him would surely want to keep him weak so he can maintain his claim on him. It was the only way after all since Spike knew well that in his top condition he would have no issues taking Hunter down. No matter what the odds looked like Spike had complete confidence in himself.

"Try?" he scoffed, staring the bastard down. Try to break the claim? If there was any claim at all there was no question as to if he would be able to or not. "I will ."

Hunter winced a little as Spike’s grip tightened, but he noticed the wolf seemed a little more steady. He squeezed harder in response, leading Spike around the room, making sure not to go too fast, but not coddling the bitch either. Spike was strong, capable, even to the point of foolishness at times. 

Those qualities were part of why he’d been drawn in, wanted the man for his own. All those complaints Spike made in the bar, the unhappiness with a life during peace, much like himself. Views on life, on how bitches should act, on the fallacy of trying to pretend life would ever be the same after spending so long fighting for their lives.

“Be sure to lift your feet fully.” Hunter rumbled, holding Spike’s gaze, showing his teeth in what was nearly a grin. “Tell me, bitch , what will you do if— when ,” Hunter chuckled. “When you beat me? Gloat? Fuck me? Kill me? Or offer me to your pack in the hope they’ll take you back?”

He turned them both slowly. It almost felt more like a duel, him leading, Spike following.

When Hunter squeezed back his hands, Spike needed to grit his teeth. The force felt like it might crush his palms. Hunter however didn’t seem willing to do anything more to punish him. 

Spike focused on walking. It was difficult after almost two weeks off his feet. He had never been bedridden for so long so this experience of not being able to walk was something he experienced for the first time in his life. He gave it his all, teeth clenched as he tried to put aside the dull aches inside. He felt like his insides had been scraped out after the plug had been removed—

Spike showed his teeth when Hunter called him ‘bitch’. At the question however he had to pause. Had he thought about what he would do? Kill him? Claim him?... The bastard was too dangerous to keep alive. But the image of beating Hunter, holding him down and fucking him savagely refused to leave him mind since the wolf had mentioned it days before…

The pack… where were they? Surely they were looking for him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he answered with a grin that was mostly teeth, aware that whatever he said would probably be used against him.

The look in Spike’s eyes, and the steady, unwavering glare, made another pulse of desire run through Hunter’s body. This bitch was unlike any other he’d met: so well suited to being a bitch, and yet unwilling to give entirely. Everything he’d wanted. He would wear Spike down eventually, show the wolf just who was in charge, but he needed to do so carefully. He didn’t want Spike to lose any of his fire.

“Going to keep me guessing, precious?” Hunter asked, chuckling. “Such a tease.”

They continued around the room, making turns and walking about. He encouraged Spike to crouch a couple times, to strengthen his thighs, making sure to keep Spike from falling each time. Once the wolf’s legs were trembling too heavily, he guided Spike back to the bed, helping him to ease back against the mattress. 

Smiling, Hunter leaned over his bitch, stroking his fingers over Spike’s cheek. “How is your stomach? Feel well enough to eat?” He asked, brushing his thumb over the bitch’s chin. “What would you like? Anything you like, I’ll make it.”

The way the wolf looked at him— it brought out something animal in Spike. Something that whispered of violence and primal instincts. The way he had felt during the war during every battle. The feeling that he had been missing ever since the war ended. He had tried to replicate it, tried to live without it— but in the presence of this bastard, he actually felt it again. It made his heart beat with life that he had thought he would never get to experience again…

He huffed an annoyed and angry at himself. This line of thoughts was insane…

He walked and moved until his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. When he dropped down in the bed again he was tired and sweaty, breathing heavily. He couldn’t believe merely 20 minutes of light exercise had brought him to this state— he stared at the hand, stroking over his cheek. He waited for a moment, too shocked to react and sure that Hunter would realise he shouldn’t be doing this. But the hand moved over his chin. Just as he was about to slap it away, the words that the wolf was saying reached him.

“Food?” Spike said, the words coming out without him even thinking about it. That wasn’t strange. Spike had never in his life had to be careful with what he said. The concept was alien to him. Frightening when he actually remembered Hunter was different. He couldn’t speak without thinking with him. But now the shock was too great. “Real food?” he asked.

Spike had been dying to eat something proper. Living off tubes and a small bite here and there was one of the reasons he felt so exhausted mentally.

That reaction… Hunter couldn’t help but stare. Spike’s quick shift from petulance and growing rage gave way to almost excitement. It was adorable. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the bitch, praise him for doing so well with exercises, and to pamper him like a true alpha should treat their bitch, but he held back. Spike would likely find such treatment belittling, and he didn’t want to lose sight of that glimmer of growing hope and joy.

Did Spike even know how cute he could be?

Hunter ran his thumb once more over Spike’s chin, before sitting on the edge of the bed, relaxing. “Real food. Meat. Eggs. Whatever you’d like.” He rumbled with satisfaction, feeling like he was finally able to provide for his bitch. “Steak? Fresh venison? There are deer in these woods.”

He couldn’t help the growing smile on his face. He let his eyes wander over Spike, pausing at the way the shirt did little to fully cover Spike’s cock. That wouldn’t do. Another smile played at his lips as a thought occurred to him.

“You need your strength back.” He said simply, looking back into Spike’s eyes.

Spike couldn't trust this. Not only because of the way the wolf was staring down at him, but also because his hand refused to leave his face. It ran over the stubble on his chin, still barely growing out.

The only reason WHY spike could overlook this was because of the promise of real food. He wanted it. He needed it. He had been dreaming about it. Spike didn't even know what those bags with fluids did for him that food couldn't. In his opinion it had been the lack of real food that had made his healing slower than usual.

"Steak." he said without hesitation. Simple and one of his favorite meals. He didn't care about Hunter's motivations behind offering this. He simply wanted food desperately.

The request, no, demand, for steak made Hunter chuckle, giving Spike an amused, but warm look. Of course the wolf wanted steak. If he had to guess, rare and still bleeding, not unlike he preferred it himself, save when eating it raw.

“A man after my own heart,” he chuckled.

The narrow look of mistrust made him smile. Spike knew something was up. Good instincts. Hunter got up from the bed, heading towards the closet. He searched the boxes of clothing he couldn’t bring himself to throw out, taking down a smaller box. As he opened it, the smell of old lavender and orange peel sachets wafted through the air, the herbs long since dried out to uselessness, but still holding some familiar odor. 

Citrus again. A small stab of sadness lurked in the back of his mind, shooed away as he found a pair of light pink panties, trimmed with white lace. He put the box back up, approaching Spike with the soft undergarment.

“Can’t have your cock hanging out during our meal, precious.” Hunter said, dangling the panties in front of Spike. “Here. Cover up, and you can eat your fill.”

Spike made a grimace at the remark followed by a chuckle. The last thing he wanted was to have anything in common with this lunatic.

He watched as Hunter got up from the bed, still fighting the feeling of unease. The man headed towards the closet, rummaging around the things inside until the scent of herbs and flowers reached even Spike. 

Cover up? Or he won’t get to eat?...

Spike's eyes moved to the pink cloth that Hunter was dangling in front of him... He couldn’t really make out what it was for a moment. It couldn’t be as bad as it was before with the silk nightgown, could it? 

Spike exhaled in annoyance. If he had to be honest he preferred not to be naked, not because he was naturally shy about it. He couldn’t be since he was a wolf. Most of his life was spent naked. But he couldn’t help but feel self conscious in the presence of that man. 

As he looked closer without any real expectations only to see it was a pair or soft pink lace panties…

That fucking bastard! 

"You have to be fucking kidding me ." Spike growled, lifting himself up only so he could move further away from the approaching man. If this was his only option for underwear then it was better to be naked.

Hunter smirked, shifting the panties in his hands to hold them out, the white lace a little worn, but still soft and delicate looking against the satin. He imagined Spike’s sweet ass clothed in them, how the wolf’s cock and balls would look cradled in the satin. 

Laughing softly to himself, he turned his gaze back to Spike. 

“Oh, I’m entirely serious, darling.” He said, voice soft and husky. “The color will look great on you, and I don’t want to be distracted with your dick while we’re eating. Don’t need to be tempted by you until you’re fully healed.”

He held out the panties, chuckling as Spike moved further from them. With a sigh, he set the panties on the bedside table.

“Your choice. Now, then… Guess I’ll go prepare our meal.”

Leaving Spike in the bedroom, humming softly in amusement, Hunter headed to the kitchen. He’d bought several things to help sustain his bitch, and Spike’s incredibly high nutritional needs. Before plugging the bitch up, he’d been impressed by the amount of food Spike could consume. His larder had never been so well stocked. He took his time cooking up a steak, preparing Spike’s nutritional shake separately as the meat sizzled and cooked to rare perfection.

The powders were a little confusing to mix. Add milk or water? He chose milk, figuring that would bulk up the protein, adding a little yogurt as well to thicken it up. What he ended up with was a thick drink that didn’t taste especially horrible, almost pleasant, but bland. He plated up the steak for himself, and filled a tall glass with the shake.

Easing the door to the bedroom open, Hunter smiled at his bitch, shake in one hand, and steak in the other.

“Bon appétit,” Hunter murmured, setting the shake on the bedside table beside the frilly pink panties.

He took his steak to the side, sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed. Groaning with pleasure, he cut into the steak, watching the juices bleed over the plate. His eyes lifted to Spike as he took a bite, chewing with obvious enjoyment.

Spike met Hunter's eyes, challenge and agitation burning in his.  But when the man spoke again, it made him shiver with anger. Darling?! Tempted ?! What was this bastard saying? 

As he continued speaking Spike found his resolve for a fight being crushed under an overwhelming despair. If he didn’t put this one… he was going to eat?… His gaze shook as it dropped down, a hand balled into a fist, squeezing the edge of the shirt that he pulled on to hide his genitals.

His heart beat heavy as Hunter left the underwear on the bedside table and left. Spike grinded his teeth. Just because he was here and he had no other choice— it didn’t mean he had to accept it! Did Hunter think he was a whore?! He would not debase himself by wearing something like that! For what? For a steak?—

The smell of the cooking meat seemed to grab him by the throat. His stomach hurt from how bad he wanted to eat..

He watched with trembling eyes the bastard came back in the room, holding a plate and a tall glass— was that— would he give that to him—

Something crashed inside him when the man left the glass for him. He didn't know why but he felt like he would cry.

Spike couldn't believe this! He was so angry and upset and he didn't want Hunter looking at him. So he rolled over, facing the other side, turning his back to Hunter.

As Spike pouted and looked like he was about to cry, Hunter stared the bitch in the eyes. Was it really such a terrible thing? Putting on cute underwear? Looking good for him? He would have offered something more of his own to Spike, but the difference in their torsos would mean any pants or underwear of his own would constantly slip down Spike’s hips. Even if Spike didn’t want to be his bitch, the wolf could at least play along until they fought it out again.

Once Spike rolled over and ignored him, Hunter satisfied himself by staring at the bitch’s ass while he ate. Finished with his meal, he left the room, leaving the smoothie for Spike to drink, or not drink. There were still things that needed to be done around the house, things he looked forward to having Spike help with once the man had healed.

He just needed to wear Spike down. He knew the man would eventually give in. There were plenty of protein powders and nutritional supplements he’d bought to help Spike heal, and to help round out all the calories Spike’s body needed. 

A few hours later, he fixed another meal, yet again offering solid food in exchange for his bitch putting on the damn panties. Spike only glared silently, snatching up the nutritional shake and swallowed it down angrily. Chuckling, Hunter ate his grilled venison near the foot of the bed, bidding Spike goodnight.

Come morning, Hunter didn’t bother making anything extra for Spike. He prepared his own breakfast, cooking up bacon and sautéed tomatoes, fresh eggs from the chickens, and toast. He was becoming more familiar with the shakes, measuring out the powder, adding in recommendations to make it more palatable, choosing blueberries and a little honey. 

With plate and shake in hand, he knocked on the bedroom door. “Awake in there, precious?” Hunter asked, shouldering the door open. 

He held up the shake, crossing the room to set it down for Spike to drink. The panties were still on the bedside table, folded and ignored.

Spike's stomach was killing him— the smell of cooked food overwhelmed him. He had managed to hold out two times… but Hunter didn’t seem to be fooling around. He really wasn’t going to give him any food. He hasn't even asked this time…

...Spike was so hungry… He looked at the underwear sitting on the bedside table where Hunter had left it the day before. At that moment Hunter entered the room, carrying his plate with actual food and that fucking shake. Spike just couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t—

It wouldn’t mean anything if he did it... He could put the panties on if it meant he could eat. It was only a means to an end…

He reached with burning cheeks, anger and humiliation in his eyes. Something in him just told him to get it over with. Spike exhaled through his teeth as he unfurled the cloth and put the panties on. The lace slid over his smooth thighs, hugging his hips. His cock didn’t fit well since the underwear was made for a woman. He tried to adjust them so at least they don’t chafe him. His face was burning red and anger was burning in his chest as he pulled on the shirt that refused to stay down… trying to at least cover himself with it.

Spike had to remind himself again and again why he was doing this. It was all for the sake of food. He felt like he would die if he didn’t eat something—

For a moment, Hunter thought Spike had snapped enough to try and attack him. He stepped back, holding the plate out of the way— But the attack never came. He watched Spike cautiously, relaxing slightly as he saw the deep red flush covering his bitch’s face. As the wolf actually grabbed the panties and slid them on, Hunter’s lips parted, eyes watching rapturously as soft lace and satin slid up Spike’s thighs, then nestled around the bitch’s cock. 

He only stopped staring once Spike angrily pulled down the shirt in an attempt to cover himself, looking up with a soft breath. Slowly, he felt a smile spread across his face, his cheeks dimpling. 

“Oh, precious…” Hunter sighed, holding out his plate to Spike. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Chuckling, he looked Spike over again, picking up the shake as he sat beside his bitch. If Spike needed more, he’d cook more. Taking a sip, he hummed softly to himself, resting a hand on Spike’s thigh.

“Eat up. If you want more, just ask.”