AN: I don't own either HP or SoA. Takes place during season 2.
He could hear the whining over the rumble of his motorcycle, wounded and almost pitiful. It sounded like the whine of a dog and he immediately slowed his bike, squinting in the darkness to look for the source of the sound. Jeers and yells echoed in the alleyway a few feet behind him and a yelp filled the air.
Tig scowled and pulled his motorcycle to a stop, his cheek still throbbing from where Opie had hit him earlier. His stomach roiled at the memory but he tucked it away, dropping his hand down to his gun as he parked his bike. Something loud hit a trashcan and then a louder yelp echoed, followed by laughter, mean and loud.
The moon shone down on the alleyway in front of him, showing him the group of four men who looked to be in their early twenties. All holding drinks in their hands, their smirks ugly as they clinked their bottles together.
"Look at it, bro! It's ugly as all hell," one of the men said, raising his voice over the whimpering.
Tig grimaced and followed their gazes, seeing the small mutt of a dog and instantly stalking forward. The dog was small, its coat a multitude of colors in his coat, from brown to black and in some patches, an auburn that was almost flame colored. But… Tig could faintly see patches of blood, a crooked left ear, and the mutt was definitely favoring a leg. "Hey assholes! Pick on someone your own size."
The group of four men, boys, whatever, turned around to face him and two of them paled. Paled when they saw his leather kutte and he smirked, knowing how they would see him. Bloody cheek, bruised knuckles, fingers with rings on them, the big ass knife at his hip.
"Yeah, what's it to you, man?" One of the men asked, not one of the ones who had instantly gone pale at the sight of him. The guy next to him went paler and leaned over to mutter something into the guy's ear, probably about how Tig was a Son. And the Sons were not someone to mess with.
The guy stared at him and then rolled his eyes, aimed a kick at the dog and winked at him. Tig just stared back, grinning even wider, and stalked forward, seeing the three other men… back up at his approach. They went even paler as he met their eyes idly, like he had all the time in the world, like he didn't give a single shit about what he was about to do.
"Leave the dog alone," Tig ordered, glaring at the guy who was staring him down. "Or I'm gonna mess up that pretty face."
"Oh yeah?"
"Bro, let it go," the sensible man muttered, elbowing the guy who apparently had a death wish. "He's a Son and a scary motherfucker. Let's go."
"Smart or not, you're still on my shit list, bro," Tig offered, raising his voice a little. "Now get."
The three men nodded, their faces still pale, as they walked hurriedly past him and fled.
"You gonna flee like your friends or are you gonna indulge me? 'Cause you see… I'm in the mood for a fight."
The last remaining guy stared at him then seemed to deflate, fleeing like the hounds of hell were chasing him.
Tig sighed as he reached up to trace a finger over the butterfly bandage that Tara had put on the cut on his cheek. He scowled as he watched the guy disappear before kneeling down at the dog's feet, feeling his knees ache briefly at the position. The mutt whined, low in his throat, its eyes… a deep red color.
Tig blinked before reaching out a hand for the dog to sniff, letting the pup come to him if it wanted. The mutt tilted its head almost like an otter, as if it was trying to see through him before reaching out to touch its warm nose to his palm.
"Hey," Tig whispered, seeing the dog… puppy shiver, even though it was humid and warm out. It was an average summer night but the dog was cold and injured, blood sluggishly dripping from injuries. Tig swore before taking his kutte off, offering it to the mutt first to sniff.
The dog looked up at him before scenting the leather, whining again, this time licking his fingers. It slowly reached up to lick his cheek, the bloody one, licking over the blood, and nuzzled into his fingers.
"Aww, come on, mutt. Let's get you looked at," Tig said, slowly reaching out and wrapping his kutte around the puppy, picking it up, being careful to not jostle its injured paw. "And maybe find your owner, irresponsible people they are. I ought to…"
"You ought to what?"
Tig coughed and stood up, the mutt held gently in his arms, and turned around only to blink at the sight. There was a man in front of him, a man that looked half skeletal. And by that he didn't mean thin. He meant bony, the man's face half in shadow and half not, the moonlight glinting off the white of bones. The cloak over the guy's shoulders shimmered in the moon and starlight and Tig could see a stick peeking out from the guy's right ear, like a pen would sit.
The voice had been guttural and low, rough, but not menacing. Thoughtful really. And had a hint of an English accent, just low enough that Tig could hear it.
It was the shadow of wings on the man's back that really got through to him, big, black things that looked like raven's wings.
"You found Padfoot," the man remarked quietly, taking a step towards him. "Thank you."
Tig lifted an eyebrow but stayed where he was, rocking back on the heels of his feet. The mutt in his arms whined excitedly this time, perking its ears forward, its tail twitching and brushing against Tig's chest.
"Padfoot?" Tig echoed, running his fingers through the dog's soft fur.
The guy or person or whoever he was dipped his head in a nod as he approached Tig, coming to a stop before him, leaving about two feet between them. "Padfoot. He's my newest pup and my favorite. Always getting into trouble. He's… attracted to it, I'd say."
"Is that true?" Tig asked, peering down at the mutt in his arms.
The pup's tail wagged vehemently and it twisted in his arms, twisted and turned around to lick his cheek excitedly. Tig grinned as he took a deep breath, his heart rabbiting in his chest but not… out of fear.
The bloody patches on the dog's coat disappeared and the injured paw flexed, claws digging into his leather kutte. The fur turned shiny and clean and Tig sucked in a sharp breath as the pup suddenly weighed a lot more than it had a second ago.
"I'd let him down, if I were you," the guy suggested, smiling wryly. "He's young. Doesn't know his real weight."
Tig blinked and then lowered… Padfoot down to the ground gently, watching as the dog grew before his eyes. Grew until he was about the size and height of his own motorcycle.
"At least Cerberus wasn't the one to find you," the guy added, his voice dropping another notch, full of promised heat. "He's even bigger."
"You're still a good boy though," Tig finally said, reaching out to stroke Padfoot's head before slipping his kutte back on. The dog… or hound… or whatever he was, barked quietly, his red eyes glinting with flames behind them. "Aren't you?"
Padfoot grinned at him, panting happily, digging his fiery red claws into the asphalt beneath him and leaving holes in it. His forked tail wagged and Tig grinned back.
"You're a piece of trouble, too, aren't you?" The guy questioned, drawing Tig's attention again. "Padfoot cleaned up some of the blood though."
"He likes blood, huh?"
"They all do," the guy spoke, sparing a glance back up to the entrance of the alleyway and then back to Tig. "Do I wanna know what happened?"
"No, you don't," Tig muttered, scowling again. "Guys don't know not to kick a dog."
The guy stared at him and then growled, half inhuman, half wholly human, all eerie before swearing in another language entirely. Something that sounded hissy and nothing Tig had ever heard before.
Padfoot growled too and then threw up his head and howled. It was haunting and loud as the hound was joined by others all around the neighborhood. Tig heard at least four other hounds howling as shadows crept around the guy.
"I was just here on business," the guy finally spoke in English before winking at him. "I suppose you scared the shit out of them."
Tig smiled back. "I was in a mood."
"You were, hmm? To fight or to fuck?"
"Either. I'm not picky," Tig remarked, his dick twitching at the guy's words, the man's skeletal, inhuman voice going straight to his cock. "Those guys weren't gonna indulge me."
"Obviously."
The guy took another step towards him and pressed a half skeletal hand to his chest, testing boundaries for a second. Tig smirked at him, daring him to move, and then the guy bared his teeth and pushed, his eyes glinting black. This close, Tig could see specks of green trying to fight through the black.
Those wings of his curled and then folded up against the man's back as one of the guy's hands slipped beneath Tig's kutte, underneath his shirt and to warm skin. Tig sucked in a breath at the cold fingers and swore as the guy's other hand reached down to cup him through his jeans.
"You're already hard," the guy spoke roughly, voice full of amusement. It wasn't mocking amusement though and even Clay looked at him in askance sometimes for his other proclivities. "There something I should know?"
"Nope."
The guy snorted and stroked his fingers over Tig's chest, teasing circles into his skin, running up to pinch a nipple. Heat tripped through him even as his cock hardened even more. "You gonna just stand there or suck me off?"
The guy's lips twitched in idle amusement, a lopsided sort of thing. "You getting off on this form of mine?"
"So what if I am?"
"I don't give a shit if you are," the guy offered before bending down, pushing Tig's jeans down and swallowing him down in one move. Tig yelled out and had to lean against the wall behind him to steady himself, shivering as his dick was surrounded by wet heat. It was far from his first blow job but by far… one of the better ones as Tig sucked in a breath, panting hard as the guy went down on him, licking him up, swallowing up the pre come.
Padfoot barked loudly before trotting off to stand at the entrance to the alleway, guarding them.
Tig swore as his nerves lit up, as pleasure simmered in the base of his spine. The guy moved a hand to press on his waist, holding him in place as he twirled his tongue around him, around the tip of his dick, and then pulled off with a wet pop. "Get the fuck-"
The guy stared at him and arched an eyebrow, reaching up a hand to curl around his shoulder. "That reaper on your kutte… You know who I am?"
"Somebody with real good makeup and costume," Tig muttered, sucking in a gulpful of air.
The guy rolled his eyes and then looked pointedly to where Padfoot was. "You want a good fuck or not?"
"You suggesting I fuck the dog?"
The guy muttered and then reached out to cup his chin, smoothing a cold thumb over Tig's warm skin, sending shivers through him. "I'm not into bestiality and I know I won't be around for another night in this charming town. Too much death."
"I thought you'd be into death."
"Not this much, darling. I don't judge though."
Tig met the guy's eyes and then swore, his dick still aching with need. "Fuck. I'm not a teenager, man."
"I know."
He turned around, not wanting to look into the guy's pitch black eyes, and felt fingers curl into his hips. They were cool to the touch, not cold, but not comfortable. Not what a human temperature was supposed to be. Fingers traced over his ass, sending little shocks of sensation straight to his dick, his nerves on edge. He dug his own fingers into the brick wall in front of him as the guy pressed into him, his chest against Tig's back.
Tig could feel the guy's hard dick against his ass and he wondered what it looked like before shuddering as the guy spoke a word under his breath.
The guy's breath trailed over what skin was bare around his neck, making goosebumps trail up his skin, up his arms. A wet finger dipped into him and Tig thrust back against it, heat radiating from that one finger and he wanted…
"Fuck. Fuck me, damn it."
"You want pain."
Tig swore again and bucked back into the guy, bending over, trying to get that finger in deeper. The hand at his hip dug into his skin, leaving red marks, tightening enough that he sucked in a startled gasp. The nip at his neck sent shudders of heat through him and the guy bit again at the crook of his neck, biting hard enough to draw blood. Pleasure pain shot through him, setting him on fire, and he bent down, dropping his forehead against the cool brick. His dick ached with it and he thrust a little, experimentally, before the hand at his hip tightened again in warning.
"Fine."
Another finger slipped into him, one becoming two, wet and sloppy, curling into him, sending tremors of heat before withdrawing. He clenched around nothing and then the guy thrust into him in one roll of his hips, sliding into him. Tig started at the motion, flinching a little at the dry rawness of it, little shocks of pain flaring up his nerves.
The guy curled his fingers into Tig's hips again and pulled him in even closer before moving, rolling against him. Not letting him take a moment to adjust.
Sweat trickled down Tig's back and his world dwindled to the dick in his ass, to where his own dick was achingly hard and trapped. His heart drummed and roared in his ears as the guy pressed into him further, hitting that spot that sent electricity shooting through him.
Noises spilled out of his throat as the guy fucked into him, slipping out a second later and then thrusting in again and again. "Please."
"You're close," the guy whispered, pausing a moment before thrusting in even harder, rubbing up against the spot over and over, making Tig almost vibrate with need. "You deserve it?"
Tig swallowed against words, against the emotions that wanted to come out. He heard the flutter of a wing and the brush of feathers against his back made him shudder. He shook his head against the brick wall in front of him even as his breathing hitched, choked against it.
"Padfoot says you do," the guy whispered against Tig's skin.
Tig let out a choked sound and then pleasure slammed into him as the guy reached around him and curled a hand around his dick. All it took was the guy's fingers pumping him once, twice, before his vision greyed out, his back bowing with pleasure. His toes curled in his boots and he shuddered even as his knees threatened to give out. He vaguely felt the guy come in him, feeling that dick pulse in him as his muscles clenched around him.
"Shhh. I've got you," the guy murmured roughly, licking over the bite marks on his neck in apology, stroking his back under his shirt. "You're alright."
Tig flinched when he realized he was crying, wet sobs that sounded pathetic to his ears. He opened his mouth to bicker only for the guy to cup his cheek and turn him around. The guy slipped out of him with a squelching sound and Tig winced.
The black in the guy's eyes had disappeared, revealing bright green. The wings were still there, the shadows still there, the stick still there, the skeletal appearance still there. But the black pits were gone. It left the guy more human looking, less like whatever the hell he was. It left him able to better see the scar on the guy's forehead, see the shape of it as it branched out over the man's skin like lightning.
"Padfoot's a good judge of character, usually," the guy murmured.
Tig swallowed and shook his head. "I don't…"
"You don't what."
"Deserve it."
"Alexander. I know you. You deserve good things."
"I killed Donna."
The guy… Death… or a reaper… dipped his head in a slow nod. "I know. Her ghost-"
"Don't."
"Alright. Alright."
Tig watched as the guy looked him over then began to clean them both up, waving a hand over their bodies. The dirt and come that had gotten splattered over them disappeared. Tig's jeans rolled back up and he fastened them over his waist again.
"How did Padfoot get hurt anyway?" Tig asked finally, after a few minutes of silence.
"He didn't," the guy answered bemusedly before taking a step back. "Take care of yourself, hmm?"
Tig flipped him off and the guy snorted, his green eyes tightening a little. Shadows pooled in the guy's eyes again before he shook his head.
"Storm's coming," the guy finally spoke, dipping his head up. "Lockdown's coming."
"Fuck off."
A glow of a different kind entered those green eyes and the guy's lips twitched up in a small grin. "Fine. You might be able to call Padfoot to you now, if you need the help. He likes you."
Tig watched as the guy whistled and then walked off, wings curling and disappearing, before the guy vanished entirely in the shadows.
"Huh."