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Summary
“Wolfsbane,” Hale says through clenched teeth. “Powdered. Don’t know what kind.”
Chris scans the other man’s body. His eyes get stuck halfway down, because even in tight jeans, it is blatantly obvious that Hale’s dick is hard. Big, too, his brain supplies. Not the point.
“Oh.” His voice comes out faint. “That one.”
~
Derek runs afoul of some hunters with a variety of wolfsbane that has a…different…treatment than normal.
