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Liam is accustomed to the rage living under his skin; a quiet, restless thing, dozing lazily in his bloodstream, its breath hot on his neck, drooling down his spine as it sleeps. It’s been his companion for long enough that he doesn’t remember what it was like before, sometimes looks at people and wonders if it’s true that they live without a beast curled up under their ribs, one eye cracked open, just waiting for an excuse to lash out. He knows, though, that it’s a feral thing, an unwelcome vermin that came to him when he was young. It crawled from his father’s fist and into Liam’s blood when those merciless knuckles broke his skin. It’s been living there, long after the father left and a better man took his place, growing and feeding on the things that used to make Liam who he was, until there’s so little left, it takes a monumental effort just to convince himself that there’s still room for peace.
Scott helps, a lot of the time. His voice, and eyes, and hand soft on Liam’s shoulder, encouraging and gentle, reminding him that he has the tools to subjugate the fury. Reminding him that there is another beast inside of him that came from Scott’s jaws, saved his life and gave him a whole new reason to live. That beast thrives when he’s in control, standing with claws on the spine of his rage, grinding its nose down into the pit of Liam’s stomach, until all it can do is whimper and scrabble, and hope that something will distract him long enough to turn the tides. Scott’s eyes are so warm and kind, it makes Liam want to fight with everything he has, just to make sure it’s never revealed how tenuous the balance really is. Because Scott truly believes that the other beast is weak and dying, starved of all the parts of Liam it used to feast upon to fuel itself.
Scott doesn’t know how strong it really is, how it gnashes and screams in Liam’s gut, pressing up into his throat, reaching imploringly for the wolf, and for the parts of Liam he hopes Scott will never see again.
Scott doesn’t know that when the moon calls to Liam and the wolf howls its answer, the rage howls, too, bright and delicious, until his teeth are itching and his hands are aching, and it’s all he can do to keep from tearing something to pieces to satiate that ravenous cacophony.
There are some days when he thinks that effort is wasted, because the rage feels like who he is. Not a companion or a parasite, but the sum total of everything that he is. Days when the beast uncoils in his chest and slips out under his skin, roiling and spitting until it takes control of every part of him, and the wolf in him smiles a sly, bloody grin, and Liam wonders if it isn’t better this way, all of his instincts screaming for slaughter, unified, and so easy it couldn’t possibly be wrong.
On those days, Scott’s soothing voice is like glass in his wounds, begging him to come back from an edge that reeks entirely too much of serendipity for Liam to resist. It feels like hands closing around his neck, capillaries bursting under his skin until bruises ooze and pool in the shape of it. He would do anything to keep from disappointing his alpha, but there is so much hunger in him, he wonders how far he can really starve himself before he collapses under the pressure of continuing to try.
Liam thinks that maybe Scott’s goodness is part of the problem. Because Scott - supportive, kind, gentle, Scott - has this unwavering belief that everyone is capable of being just as good as he is, of overcoming just as much, and being just as strong. But Liam isn’t strong, and he isn’t good. He’s just angry, rabid with the feeling of it, and desperate for some sort of relief that won’t bring his whole life tumbling down around him. And there’s absolutely nothing Scott can do about it, because Liam thinks he might not survive if he has to endure the sting of Scott’s loving disappointment again.
So on these days, when an outburst feels inevitable and he’s sure he’s going to do something he will regret, Liam doesn't go to Scott.
He goes to Theo.
Theo looks at him for a long moment, eyes assessing, a slight quirk to his mouth, like he already knows why Liam is here without either of them having said a word. He smells like the sun, the crisp yellow white warmth of it pushing up against the seething heat in Liam’s blood and sapping some of it, making him feel clean again in a way nothing else can.
“Come on,” Theo says, quiet and confident, as if he knows that all Liam can do right now is follow him and hope he doesn’t lead them straight over a ledge. (Liam knows that he never would. Right now it’s the only thing Liam thinks he really knows for sure in all the world.) So he follows Theo to his truck, sits idly in the passenger seat, trying hard not to hurt himself, or to lash out in impatience as Theo drives silently toward the preserve. He breathes deep, and lets the feeling of sunwarm breezes and cloudless skies wash over him. He looks at Theo’s hands on the wheel, focuses on how his fingers rest there, gentle and careless, and manages to hold it together, at least for the duration of the ride.
Theo parks on the edge of the woods, hops out and turns back to look at Liam through the open door. “Chase or fight?” He asks, and Liam nearly chokes himself trying to keep the word fight from crossing his lips. He can already feel his claws and teeth itching to come out, and the shame is icy under all the bitter heat in him.
“Chase,” he bites out, and can’t look at Theo, too afraid of what he might see there.
Theo sighs, and leans back into the doorway, elbow resting on the back of the driver’s seat. “Liam,” he says, and there’s a bite of frustration to it, in that way Theo has, where he can’t always curb himself, even if he’s trying. “Not for nothing, but you look like you need to beat the shit out of something right now.”
Liam flinches, refuses to look at him. “Scott wouldn’t like it. And I don’t want to hurt you, anyways.”
Theo scoffs. “Okay, well, what if I said I need it? And that we won’t tell Scott?”
Liam looks at him sharply, startled, and feels so hungry he can barely get his eyes to focus on Theo’s face. His expression is twisted a little bit in annoyance, like he’s mad Liam’s making him work this hard to get things going, but there’s a familiar shadow there, too. The kind of look Theo gets when he’s settled in a little too comfortably and is just waiting for shit to hit the fan.
It’s something they don’t really talk about, an understanding between them that neither of them has had the guts to verbally acknowledge. That sometimes, when things are too good, Theo needs a little punishment, just so he can accept that nothing worse is coming down the pipeline. That he doesn’t really trust anyone but Liam not to assume he’s actually done something wrong.
Liam feels guilt slosh into his gut. He’d been so wrapped up in his own stupid shit that he hadn’t even noticed Theo slipping closer to his own serendipitous edge; hadn’t even thought to reach out to him. And now Theo’s had to say something, and Liam can practically hear the way his teeth are gritting, despite the rest of his body staying loose and inviting, like he hopes no one will notice the little vulnerability that just slipped through. The vulnerability that Liam is about to use to slake his own greed.
“Okay,” Liam whispers, choked and still a bit reluctant, scared to let himself have it, even when it’s offered freely.
“Hey,” Theo says, just as quiet, and he’s leaning further into the car, knuckles brushing against the side of Liam’s elbow, unbearably tender. Liam tenses, but presses his elbow into the touch to indicate he’s listening. “It’s like bloodletting, right?”
It makes Liam smile, remembering the night he’d gone down his little research hole about that, googling ever deeper, caught up in the wave after having confirmed the single fact he’d needed for the paper he was writing. He feels the rush of purifying sunlight again, realizing that, for all his sighing and blustering and sarcasm, Theo had been listening to him ramble. He’d known that at the time, but somehow, the confirmation that Theo is exactly who Liam thinks he is still comes as a balm for his raw nerves.
“How so?” he asks, and tries not to sound like his world revolves around the sound of Theo’s voice.
“Because you just need to bleed a bit of the anger off, to get your humors back in balance, right? Breathe a vein?”
Liam laughs a little, despite himself. “I guess. But you know all that shit was super fucked up and useless, right?” He finally lets himself actually look at Theo, and it’s a bit humiliating the way his heart stutters in his chest at the sight of him, still leaning over the drivers’ seat, reaching out to Liam, expression sardonic, but gentle.
“I know.” Theo pulls back, grinning now. “But in this case, the metaphor works.”
Liam watches, fondly, as Theo straightens completely, shuffling around before kicking his shoes off into the footwell of the truck. “How about chase and fight?” He says cheekily, pulling his shirt off and tossing it at Liam’s face. The scent is so good that Liam reflexively catches it, holds it to his nose for a second before he realizes what he’s doing and lets it drop.
“Okay,” Liam says, and fumbles his way out of his seatbelt as Theo starts unbuckling his belt. He gets out of the car as Theo strips the rest of the way down, knowing he’s allowed to look, but trying not to, if only because he thinks he might do something really embarrassing if he does.
“Heads up,” Theo says, before Liam closes his door, and Liam hears the keys jingling as Theo throws them across the seats. He manages to catch them without getting an eyeful, and puts them carefully in his pocket, not wanting to lose them once they get started. There is another beat of quiet as Theo stacks his clothes on the seat, and then the door shuts, and Liam follows suit.
By the time he walks around to the other side, Theo has already shifted completely, a hulking black wolf staring up at Liam with wide green eyes. Liam smiles down at him, runs a hand gently over the crown of his head and behind an ear, rubbing his thumb over the soft fur there, enjoying the feeling of Theo’s warmth seeping into his skin. Theo leans into the touch briefly, closing his eyes for a moment before turning and nipping at Liam’s wrist, just sharp enough to draw blood.
Liam yelps, and Theo takes off, breaking full tilt through the tree line and disappearing before Liam can take a single step. It pisses him off and fills him with a fondness so overwhelming, he has no choice but to howl into form and take off after him, following the disheveled trail and summer bright scent of him, feet slipping on the leaf litter and wet earth as he goes.
Theo takes him on enough of a chase that fatigue is actually starting to set in by the time they both scramble to a halt in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. One moment, Theo is a wolf sliding around in a tight circle to face Liam, and the next he’s human again, naked skin streaked with mud, leaves sticking in his hair, claws and fangs out as he grins and settles into a fighting stance.
When Liam hits him, there’s no rage in it, just that insatiable hunger, the need to smell blood in the air, and to hear the way Theo laughs as his head snaps back, exultant.
“Come on, Liam,” he mocks, his knuckles colliding hard enough with Liam’s mouth to split his lip. “You can do better than that!”
Liam snarls and lunges again, fist connecting at Theo’s cheek, breaking the skin and filling the air with the tangy, dirty pennies and summer breeze smell of Theo’s blood. Theo groans and it sounds so satisfied that Liam hits him again, relishing the way the blood smears between them and then reeling back as Theo swipes at him, claws tearing a jagged line of heat across Liam’s belly.
Liam finally laughs, too, feeling his blood well up into the tatters of his tshirt, and the last of that insatiable roiling itch boils out of him, relief flooding in to replace it. There’s always a doubt in him, on days like this, that the feeling of being on edge will ever fade; that he’ll ever be further than one minor trigger away from a total meltdown. Feeling calm again isn’t a cure, but at the least, it reminds him what hope feels like. Reminds him that he’s stronger than he feels on his worst days.
Theo stares at him, breathing hard, blood oozing over his face from cuts on his cheek and brow. Liam loves him so fiercely, he thinks he might kill the world with a clean conscience if he ever saw Theo bleed for any other reason than this.
"I'm sorry," Liam says, even though he knows he doesn't need to; knows they were both participating, both needed it. He thinks maybe that’s what he’s sorry for - that either of them have something inside them that makes them need this. That three people took Theo and hurt him so bad, for so long, that the ghost of it follows him any time he’s happy.
Theo just smiles at him, face anointed with their mixed blood and says, "Do you love me?"
Liam nearly chokes on the little sob of desperation bubbling out of him, emotions pushed by the adrenaline and the ravening, desperate roar of fondness in him. "Yes," he says emphatically, heart rushing wildly under his ribs.
Theo steps into him, takes Liam’s hand in his, brings Liam's still broken fist to his face again, and smears the knuckles across the open gash on his cheek, pressing them into the wound until a fresh gush of blood spits across the backs of both their fingers. Liam watches enraptured as he brings their bloodied hands to his mouth and speaks, lips barely brushing the aching, messy range of Liam’s knuckles. "Did you love me when you hit me?"
"Yes," Liam says again, feels it tearing out of him, out of control like the rage, but clean, like Theo’s scent.
Theo closes in on him even further then, releases Liam's hand and takes hold of his face instead, fingers tracing gently over the brutal angles of Liam's shifted cheeks and brow. After a moment, he trails them down to push between Liam’s lips, settling on a fang and pressing until blood wells, his thumb cradled under Liam’s chin to keep him from moving away. He turns his hand, smears the blood across the inside of Liam’s lip, then under his tongue, pressing there until spit starts pooling and Liam is forced to swallow. The taste of it in his throat is like heat lightning breaking across a dry summer sky, pure and dangerous and beautiful.
For all that Liam is mesmerized by him, the moon may as well rise in Theo's eyes.
“Good,” Theo finally says, his voice hoarse now, eyes locked on Liam’s mouth as he slides his wet fingers back out, leaving a sticky, cool trail over Liam's lips and chin.
Theo doesn’t ever tell Liam he loves him, but the way he kisses him then - mouths drenched in each other’s blood, tongue pushing purposefully against brutal fangs, his naked body pressed close, unafraid of Liam’s wrathful hands, hungry for every flaw that Liam has to feed him - Liam knows.