As Kit got off the buss a few blocks from the address Oliver had given him, the first call from Charlie came in. 

Ignoring it, he noticed another threatening text that must have come in while they were fighting. Kit blocked the number with an unimpressed snort.

I need to exchange this phone.

He should have stopped by the apartment for the rest of his few possessions. But then he would have missed this party completely, and he just wanted to forget himself right now. Not think. Get black-out drunk.

This place was pretty far out. It had taken him a while to get here - night buss schedules sucked. How late was it anyway?

Kit flipped his bag open and slipped his hand into an outer pocket. There was one advantage to a small school with no metal detectors at the entrances. He could keep a blade, a short folding knife, on his person instead of at home.

Taking it out, he transferred it to his jeans pocket next to the USB.

It had never even occurred to him to bring it out as he faced Charlie, red hot rage blinding him, making him growl and tackle the other man.

Damn him...

Why did it hurt so much?

For months, Kit had been numb, with only brief flashes of anger or fun. But right now, his chest burnt. Fuck, he wanted the numbness back.

And if he couldn't, then he wanted some other kind of pain or pleasure or both to replace what he was feeling right now.

To erase the sight of Charlie's distressed expression from his retinas.

He fished another thing out of his bag - a small personal alarm no bigger than the flash drive that he could trigger with the press of a button. It would give off a loud, sharp siren.

If nothing else, it could be useful as a distraction. Just set it off, toss it, and run. 

You care too much. They will screw you over...

No, Kit told himself sternly. Stop remembering that.

Why had he trusted Charlie so easily? Because he looked like the only real family member Kit'd ever had, because he seemed harmless, because he had that hapless, helpless air?

Forget it.

Restless, kicking his shoes against the pavement, he chewed on his lip until he tasted blood.  He got an impulse to run, find that anger from before, urge it on, let it flow and fill him up and take over.

Shit, he had to get out of the night, in to a warm bright place where he could stop thinking these weird wild thoughts. 

Running a hand through his hair, he headed up the steps to a large villa. Well someone had rich parents... 

Pausing on the steps, he spared a thought to wonder why Oliver had been so eager to meet him here? Was is just because they were friends?

He'd been acting strange while Kit had been busy figuring other things out. Well, maybe tonight they could talk about it, if he stayed sober long enough.

Unlikely.

And as to Tyson and Corey...if they were here - and that seemed more likely - spoiling for a fight, who was he to deny them?

Bring it on, then.

A physical confrontation, something he didn't have to waste brainspace worrying about, seemed like a pretty great idea. There was always at least one fight at a house party, anyway.

Kit didn't have any booze with him, and he didn't really know anyone, and he didn't care.

Inside, things were starting to get heated, music hooked up through someone's phone blaring through bluetooth speakers, base loud and thumping, lights dimmed and plastic cups and beer bottles already lying abandoned on the thick carpet and polished wooded furniture.

He saw no-one from his school among the throng of bodies, some of which he could see dancing drunkenly in what must be the living room, in front of a TV with Guitar Hero on full volume, while other people chatted, sitting in groups on the floor or on each others' laps on the furniture.

Smiling crookedly, Kit headed into the kitchen to find something to drink, expertly avoiding flailing limbs on the way, taking note of the smell of weed wafting in from the back garden. It felt like ages since he'd been to a party like this, but nothing had changed.

He intended to get smashed. Impolitely so. As quickly as humanly possible. 

It wasn't until he'd downed the last fourth of a bottle of cheap whiskey someone had foolishly left lying around at the back of a cupboard and followed that with two lukewarm beers that he managed to scan his surroundings properly, and that's when he noticed. 

There were girls.

It wasn't until Kit saw them, groups of girls his own age, some still in uniforms and others in jeans or skirts and glittery tops, with thick mascara and painted nails and high, giggly voices, that it dawned on him just how much he'd missed them.

How much he'd only been around his male classmates, the overwhelmingly male clientele at the bar, and Charlie.

And of course, girls were smart and fun to hang out with in many ways, with more lipgloss and less macho bullshit, but also, and more importantly right now...boobs.

God, he'd missed them.

He was staring, contemplating the profound miracle of their existence, when he felt someone nudge his arm.

"Ladies, huh?"

"Wha -?"

Turning, he spotted Corey next to him, and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"You're not used to being the 'guy from an all-boys school who can't talk to girls' yet, are you? Heard you went to a public school before."

"Yeah? Where'd you hear that? And I can talk just fine."

Corey shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. Why was he acting nice all of a sudden?

The redhead smiled conspiratorially at him, and offered the shorter boy what looked like a metal cigarette case – with a few joints and small, pastel discs. They looked vaguely like candy.

"Want one?"

Kit took a sip of his own beer. "Naw man, I'm good."

"They'll make the night more fun."

"Oh, I know what they do. But I'll stick with beer."

"Suit yourself. Ollie was looking for you, earlier."

And then he was gone from his side, stepping forward into the crowd, which suddenly seemed much thicker.

Kit grabbed his elbow as he moved away, halting him.

"Ollie? What's up with you guys lately?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

And, with that nauseating smirk, he yanked free and disappeared among the throng of bodies.

Kit threw himself into the crowd, falling into conversation with a mixed group as he got himself and then the others some beers, finding them somewhere and then passing them around. 

Soon he was chatting and drinking, the buzz of conversation and the alcohol cottoning his mind, drowning out everything he didn't want to think about, like where he was going to sleep that night.

One girl, cute, shorter than him, and with bouncing light-brown curls, was standing close, jostled by the crowd, and he made room for her, their arms brushing, making conversation as she glanced up at him from underneath her lashes and giggled.

It was nice. He didn't want to be able to hear his own thoughts. Only wanted what was right here in front of him.

Then another girl, about his height, with long black hair, pulled him forward by his arm, asking a question drowned out by the music, and led him to where the crowd was dancing - grinding and swaying, but Hell, that was Kit's preferred kind of dancing anyway - sliding her arms around his waist.

He grinned at her, looping an arm around her shoulders so that he could drink and still hold her close. 

This was nice, the warmth of human bodies around him, the music excusing him from talking, the rhythmic movement letting him brush just so against her. 

It was anyone's guess who leaned forward first, and it didn't matter once her lips were moving over his, soft and tasting sweet, and he cupped his hand around the nape of her neck as she angled her head to the side, closing her eyes and deepening the kiss, hands roaming over his chest and back.  

They kept doing that for a while, before she laughed and pulled back to ask his name.

Just as Kit was about to lean forward and kiss her again, he felt an arm wind around his waist, pulling him back, and a quiet voice in his ear.

"I need to talk to you. Come with me for a sec?"

Kit recognized the voice, turning to see Oliver just as the other boy steered him away, placing the smaller boy's arm around his own shoulders when he stumbled. 

The girl he'd been dancing with blew him a kiss, and he regretted letting his classmate drag him out of her arms, his lips tingling pleasantly, still feeling her warmth against his palms, his front.

"What do you want?" he asked, but his words came out slightly slurred, and Oliver must not have heard him over the surround sound, because he didn't answer.

The room looked a bit more hazy now. Were people smoking inside? 

I must have drunk more than I thought. Oh right, I haven't eaten anything...

But by the time he had focused on Oliver again, the crowd was thinning as his classmate walked him up the stairs, to a more quiet hallway, the electronic music fading to nothing but a heavy thumping base and some drunken, off-key singing.

"Mhmpf – "

Kit's breath was knocked out of him when the blond boy crowded him up against the wall and kissed him, hands on his waist, splayed and pressing through the thin cotton of his button-down.

It was plain white and went with his school uniform, but those were the only real shirts he had, and he hadn't wanted to accompany Charlie tonight wearing a T-shirt...

"Hngh, ah..." he said, opening his mouth as Oliver's hands ran up his chest, flicked his nipples in a way that made him shiver.

This guy sure was a fast learner...

Kit gasped when the other boy bent to bite the side of his neck and slid a knee in between his thighs at the same time.

His legs were already unsteady from the alcohol, so he let the wall and the other man hold him up, touch him, make his skin warm and tingly again.

It had been a while, hadn't it? Weeks, if you didn't count a few quick trysts with his chemistry teacher, and they'd never had time to properly...

"This way," Oliver commanded and took his hand, leading him down the hall. Kit managed to walk steady, but it took some effort.

It didn't seem that long ago that the other boy had looked at him, tears in his eyes, wary of his words...

Now he was pulling him along a dark hallway, family pictures askew on the walls and soft fluffy carpets sticky with spilt drinks, leading him through an opening door and into what had to be the guest room, decorated in mauve and terracotta with creepy vintage floral posters on the walls.

Then he spotted Corey on the bed and stopped short.

"Hm? Wha – mhm..."

Oliver had turned, wrapping his arms around him from behind, kissing underneath his ear. It felt very nice...

"Play with us again," he whispered, stroking Kit's hair, and the werewolf tired to focus through the haze of beer.

His instincts were telling him to turn around, get out, but so far this evening his instincts had also told him to tear Charlie to shreds, to find him and hug him and make sure he never looked that sad ever again, and to run away and never go back, never lay eyes on him again.

So what did hid instincts know, anyway?

"Hm...why?" he asked, and heard his voice come out breathless.

"Because we can," Oliver countered, sliding his hands up Kit's thighs from behind and making him shiver, 

"And because it feels good."

"You - mph, Oliver...you didn't wanna, before."

"I changed my mind. I'm with Tyson now."

"You - " that jolted Kit right out of his buzz, but the room was still spinning a bit around him. "The fu - you're shittin' me."

"You're the one who said he wanted me."

"So you could - ah, no, shit, that tickles! - stay the fuck a-away from him..."

His knees were threatening to buckle and he held on to Oliver's arms around him as Corey grinned and got up off the bed, slowly walking over to them and putting his hands on Kit's hips. 

"You like him now - ?"

The blond boy moved to the side to speak into his ear.

"I don't. But so what?" He nipped at Kit's earlobe, and Corey took that moment to wind his fingers through his hair, yank his head back -

"F-fuck!" 

- and suck and bite a bruise into his neck, which ached and seared and made him harden fully in his jeans. 

Oliver pulled him closer, whispering in his ear, too low for the other boy to hear.

"No. I don't like that jerk. But I can use him, don't you get it? I can be by his side instead of at his feet. Partner, instead of victim. And you showed me that, Kit."

"You must be - ugh!"

His fingers came up to twist his nipple, just hard enough to make Kit hiss, and then scraped down his ribs towards the top of his pants.

"You gave me leverage. A way to change things, just a small chance. You told me Tyson liked me and Corey was afraid to lose him and I thought - That's it."

He pressed his palm into the little wolf's lower abdomen, holding him still as Corey pushed his hoodie off his shoulders. It fell to the floor and his canvas bag fell with it, landing with a faint thud in the thick carpet. 

"I could use that, if it was true. I felt desperate enough to find out. With Corey around it was no good, but Tyson was different alone. I could talk to him, pay attention...I kissed him. It worked better than I could have imagined..."

Corey, who couldn't hear Oliver's whisper, let go of Kit's hair to grab two fistfuls of his ass, crushing him forward.

"Do it with us again. Like that time in school," he said.

The ginger started unbuttoning his shirt, standing close enough for their hips to touch, for Kit to feel  the line of him through his jeans, pressing into his stomach.

"Tyson even fought Corey because of me. For me. But that left us with a problem, you see, because things were really uncertain for me while they were fighting..."

Kit had wanted a distraction. He was upset, he was tipsy, and here they were offering him one.

"So I had to think of something..." Oliver murmured. 

What're you on about...?

Whatever it was his friend was saying - well, he was a big boy, and didn't need Kit judging his decisions. He'd given him advice - avoid Tyson, change schools - and the other boy had chosen to do this instead.

So screw it then.

He held Corey's gaze. "Why not?"

Focused on the redhead in front of him, Kit failed to notice the much larger presence behind him until Tyson's bulk pressed against him, taking hold of his arms and pinning them behind his back.

"Gah!"

Tyson lifted him effortlessly off the ground and Oliver tugged his jeans down, tossing them away as his sneakers bounced down next to his hoodie - and shoved him forward just as Corey stepped back.

Suddenly he found himself on the bed, spun around to half-straddle Tyson's lap as the muscled jock held him fast, pressed up along his spine and ass. 

How had he ended up in just his boxer-briefs, shirt, and socks so quickly? 

Does it matter?

The lock on the bedroom door clicked and then there was a tongue in his mouth - Oliver's - and then it was replaced by two fingers when the blond moved around to murmur to Tyson instead.

The first time Kit had seen them, his friend had seemed completely at the bully's mercy. But something had shifted - now the larger boy nuzzled into him, handled Kit roughly at Oliver's command, yanking him up and making him gasp.

I didn't know he had it in him.

He felt Tyson's hard-on between his splayed thighs and could see Corey's outline through his trousers as he ran a hand up it, then fisted a hand in Kit's shirt. 

They were teenagers, and their cocks – at least Corey's and Oliver's – were not as big as an adult man's.

Could he take two at once? Kit wondered, and then wondered if he wouldn't like to try –

But oh, that would hurt. That would hurt a lot, and he'd never tried it, and as he thought about it his breath came faster, he ground onto the lap underneath him, eager – wanton –

"Mm – ah – fuh – "

"Fuck," Tyson breathed.

Then he heard the buzzing of his phone again, on the bed where it must have fallen out of his jeans when Oliver tossed them away.

Instinctively, he twisted loose sharply, dragged one arm from Tyson's grip while the larger boy was distracted by Oliver, and grabbed it just as arms caught him, pulling him back onto that hot lap, this time facing the couple, with Corey at his back.

The other boys' arms wound around him, sliding over his skin until he lost track of who was touching him where, Tyson underneath him, thrusting up - 

Kit whined, gripping his phone unsteadily, holding it up before his eyes.

Just as he did, someone - Corey, ginger hair tickling his cheek - bit into his shoulder and made him moan softly.

They both attacked his throat, one on each side, and another whine escaped Kit. 

"You should do that to his nipples. He likes that."

Oliver sat behind Tyson, lips by his ear, a hand running through his hair. 

"You do it," the larger boy said, voice gruff, and pulled Oliver in front of him, pressed him against Kit so that the was suddenly straddling the blond's lap instead. 

The wolf tried to focus through the haze of drink and lust. Delicious kisses trailed down his chest and his head fell back, resting against Corey. 

He still gripped his phone. Why...?

"Yeah, you look much better like this," the redhead murmured into his hair. 

Charlie. That was why.

His mobile kept ringing and he remembered that he was angry, knew he had a right to be, but despite that his uncle's tear-streaked face rose before his eyes and because he was drunk - that must be why - it looked even more like Kitty's face, betrayed, heart-broken, begging him for help. 

He swiped to answer.

"No you don't," Oliver said, snatching it from his fingers and ending the call.

"Focus. We're going to need your mouth for other things."  

The phone started ringing again. 

"The fuck, Oliver - " 

Kit lunged for it and this time they caught him, Tyson grabbing his upper arms and shoving him down, his friend wrapping long, freckled fingers around one of his wrists and twisting it painfully. 

This time, as he struggled, Oliver smiled cruelly, holding up his phone and swiping to answer. He clicked on the speaker.

" - lease, Kit." Over the line, he could hear a sob and the sound of running water, his uncle's voice wavering, distressed, pleading. 

"Please, I need you to - "

Oliver threw his mobile down onto the floor and reached forward to wrap his hand lightly around the shorter teenager's throat, pressing his thumb into the dip between his collarbones.

"That sounded urgent," he said teasingly. 

"What the Hell? I needed to get that - "

And he kicked out, snarling and wrenching to get loose, but his balance was off and he failed to dislodge the two larger boys holding him. 

It dawned on him, then, that they weren't playing any more.

"Oh no," his former friend hissed, as Tyson's grip on his arms tightened, pinning them securely to his sides as Corey forced his wrists up behind his back. 

"Where do you think you are going?"