unnatural selection
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Summary
Whittman's boy really was… too easy.
If Alastor had been a better man, he might even have felt a little bad about it. As it was, this was the least the old bastard deserved, and the boy—Vincent, he'd said his name was—seemed an amusing enough means to an end.
Series
- Part 1 of unnatural selection
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Summary
All of those desires were driven by a wretchedly vicious insecurity that would either forever hold him back or finally trigger him to snap.
He wanted Alastor, too. It was obvious in the way he'd lean in close after a drink or two, the pink flush climbing high over his pale skin. His gaze would linger distractingly on Alastor's mouth, his neck; would dart down between his thighs as though he didn't quite dare.
And that was a problem. Vincent was no use to him unless he learnt to dare.
Series
- Part 2 of unnatural selection
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Summary
"Quiet," he said curtly, lip curling in a faint sneer as he raised one elbow to rest it on the back of the couch. It took conscious effort not to snap his legs shut again, despite every instinct screaming otherwise. Alastor swallowed, throat tight and dry as he gazed down at Whittman's son on the floor, on his knees looking like he'd been bestowed a gift from fucking heaven. "What on earth did you think you were playing at?"
Series
- Part 3 of unnatural selection