<span style="font-family: 'Arial'">The last thing that Ian had wanted to do was babysit a newly turned were, yet the doctor held himself responsible for Daxon at this point. It was why he didn’t just leave him at the apartment in his new state and why he had spent the last three days getting them to where they were now: trapped inside a shower together, with the brand new were-snake giving Ian a lashing with his tongue as well as his eyes. No, this was not the way he had wanted to spend the last three days. Still, Ian forced himself to keep his patience intact even as Daxon’s fear welled up and was unleashed in the form of that <i>attitude </i>that kept snapping from Daxon’s mouth, but at least the fangs had disappeared and the boy’s jaw had snapped back into place.<br/>
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“The reason why you’re a snake and I’m a lion is more complicated than you’re ready to hear right now,” he responded with all the calm that Daxon did not have in that moment. Though judging by the look in Ian’s eyes, that calm was a forced thing, there because of his real life profession – and, no doubt, by his otherworldly status of being Alpha of the local were-lion pack, if his interactions with Milo were any indication. “And since you are a snake, we are going to figure out whether you are going to be joining the rest of your nest or if you’re going to stay here with me. I would prefer you stay with <i>me</i>, but it’s becoming very clear that this idea isn’t appealing.”<br/>
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Boner or not. Though the flicker of knowledge, of self-assurance, and the hint of deep dimples in the curve of Ian’s cheeks that were just starting to curl up into a grin suggested that the threat of sending him away to contend with a bunch of strangers was just a threat. His voice lowered to a deep growl when he continued, “Not to mention – you want to <i>smash your fist into my fucking skull…</i> <b>bruh</b>,” he repeated the younger man’s own words back at him with an ironic twist. <br/>
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By then, Ian had finished lathering Daxon up with the bar of soap, the motions of his hands just as clinical as they were sensual in the way they roamed the hard muscles that clenched under his touch. By the second time Ian’s fingertips tweaked – intentionally or not – the pair of hardened nipples on his chest, the semi Ian had been sporting had sprung up full mast between his legs, its presence made known the closer Ian had leaned into Daxon to give him the full scrub down. <br/>
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<i>You’re such a bastard, Ian.</i><br/>
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That time Ian did chuckle. Mostly because he knew. He knew just how heightened Daxon’s senses were, how everything was ignited, how everything seemed to fit too tightly, like he was holding something inside his skin that didn’t quite fit and still wanted to emerge. That every nerve ending was standing on end, making touch infuriating as well as something to be craved. Once upon a time ago, the doctor had been right in Daxon’s shoes, only the predicament was much less controlled than the younger man’s present situation. It was how Ian was able to keep his cool, even finding the defensive backlash amusing, as well as finding sympathy toward the boy.<br/>
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And yet he did have to find a way to control his newly turned, albeit unwilling, house guest. Especially after Ian suddenly found himself under the spray of icy cold water that spurted from the nozzle above. “Fuck!” came the yelp of surprise. He hunched down until the water pelted his back and top of his head. Hastily, he yanked the handle back until the spray turned warm and then steamed hot once more, but his motions to rinse himself off were hurried in the face of Daxon’s recklessness to begin with. Especially when he hopped out of the shower to leave Ian to fend for himself. The doctor was fast behind him, jerking the handle for a second time and pushing open his shower door to grab a second towel. Dripping wet, he simply slung the towel until it hung around his hips, leaving the tent of his erection in full view, mostly unperturbed by Daxon’s attempt to cool him down. Only Ian’s face remained calm, amber lit, and full of intent. His dark hair was spiked up over his forehead and water beaded and streamed down the contours of his face, down the lines of his chest and the definition of his abdomen.<br/>
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Shaking his head, he prowled like the beast he had just demonstrated until he could reach out and lay his hand heavily on Daxon’s shoulder. But only to stop him from taking another step. Dipping his head, Ian put his lips close to the shell of his ear, his breath heated. “You haven’t seen <i>bastard</i> yet, kid. But it sounds like that’s what you want me to be. So I’ll tell you what: you can leave. However, if I were you, I would forget about going home to your mother, who will no doubt have other ideas than my medical license on her mind the first time you lose control around her and turn into a monster right in front of her eyes. Let alone your roommate, or your friend that ended up in the hospital with you, until you wind up killing one or more of them – or, worse, turning them into what you are now.”<br/>
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He paused, his hand sliding up along Daxon’s shoulder and around his throat, using it as leverage to urge the other male’s head back so the full force of the feline’s stare could look down into his pretty blue eyes. An almost sinister smile had twisted Ian’s mouth up as he lowered his head again until his mouth lingered just over Daxon’s. Not quite touching but close enough that his breath teased. It was his eyes that he wanted the other to pay attention to though. Or, more importantly, the fact that the iris narrowed to a sliver and the gold bled into green, widening until the snake made itself known. His sockets popped as he eased the transformation back, but tightened his grip around Daxon’s throat as if to mimic a python’s lethal hug. His other hand swung around to grip, roughly, the erection that the younger man still sported while his own dug pointedly against the curve of his ass. His hand stroked Daxon’s cock roughly over the damp cotton of the towel, intentionally stimulating his arousal while also keeping his chin up to watch the continued change of his eyes as they once more transitioned two more times from snake to a bird of prey, then into a wolf’s predatory stillness, before the crunch and grind of his bones found, once more, the shape and formation of a man’s features.<br/>
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The tremor in Ian’s body was slight but present, noticeably so, and a sign that his control was only skin deep. His breath left him in a hiss, teasing against Daxon’s lips as his eyes closed and his grip around his throat eased until his hand simply slid up to cradle the side of his face. The stroke of his hand between Daxon’s legs softened, though did not lose deliberation, especially as his dexterous fingers slid between the crease of the towel and bare skin to skim lower and wrap, flesh to flesh, around the quivering cock that lay beneath the fabric.<br/>
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“I can also just take you to the snakes and let them deal with both your poor attitude and the fact that you want to <i>fuck someone. </i>So you tell me what you want, Mr. Ripley.”</span>