A/N: Don't flame me. This is part of a larger story I'm working on (much larger). Therefore, characters are not explained in great detail, nor plot (they're already established). This is the second lemon I've ever written (and its pretty much ALL a lemon). Lemon=sex scene. If you do not want, do not read. And I know, my title is not creative. Final notes: Submissive werewolf is a term friend came up with (don't know where from). If you want to read more about these characters/universe please visit: the-blank-files. blogspot. com

I appreciate input, it will make me a better writer.

Jamie's First

One second his brother was behind him, squeezing his shoulder, afraid to separate. The next, the dingy room around them seemed to melt away. The last thing Jamie saw were the cold blue eyes of the Devil watching quizzically.

Everything went black.

With a rush James woke, his body searing. Every inch of his skin was on fire, yet there was no flame. His eyes darted around, scanning the dirt walls and stone floor. Little lights flittered around the rooms edges for the sole purpose of dim illumination. They weren't moving, weren't spreading. The heat was internal.

He threw himself upward, desperate. It was like pain – but not. It wasn't painful, just immense. Immense need, for something. The heat was coiled up in his body, all through his limbs, scorching him, urging him, to move. To run, to get release.

Realization hit. James knew what this was.

The test results: positive, unlike his fortunate twin. James was a submissive werewolf. And this was his first heat.

No. Not now… not here.

Not when he was in Hell. Not with his brother gone, who knows where.


Where was he? Was he in danger?

Panic washed over him, engulfing him and subsiding the burning need. But it didn't last long. Soon the fire was back, a million times hotter, making him run. There was no room for thought, no room for fear or worry, instinct was the only thing driving him now.

Jamie needed someone, anyone, immediately. He knew that much. It didn't matter he was blockaded inside, he knew he was strong enough to break through with natures help. It didn't matter Azazel himself was observing his escape from some hidden space. All that mattered was the isolation end. All that mattered was he find anyone, anything, and pin them. Take them. And make the burning stop. Wash it away with salty water.

There were no guards when he broke free, a disappointment. But it only made his energy rise. James moved quickly, using his dormant sense of smell to target the closest living thing. It didn't take long.

He pounced first chance he got, unknowingly pinning down one of the highest advisors of the Plutonian Shore. The man below him was old, paler than the snow in wintertime, and as wrinkled as crumpled paper. His eyes were black holes, shining with surprise at the attack. James grabbed his meek little horns, worn away from heavy usage, and grinned.

Azazel watched wearily from his spot beneath the monitor. So it was a bad idea to send out Magnus to get snacks. His little prisoner was more trouble than he was worth. The Devil leaned back, blowing black curls from his face absently before letting out a sigh.

His eyes widened at the scene presently unfolding. The teenager seemed to be straddling Azazel's own uncle! Was the kid mad?

He stood, shaking his head in slight disbelief as he saw the boy swoop in for a kiss. "Time to go!" he murmured hastily, portalling to stop James.

Jamie growled metallically, mechanically, as he was yanked off.

Magnus looked up sheepishly, "What was that for? You didn't have to stop him…"

Azazel glared down, holding James tightly to his chest. "Yes I did. The boy's here to be tormented, not scarred."

The goat-man stood up, frowning. "But he wants it Izzie. He wants it b-a-d…"

Jamie squirmed in Azazel's grip, moving to face him. He looked uncomfortable, frustrated. The boy looked up into Izzie's eyes, more mesmerizing than any vampire.

They were wide and dark like the oldest trees in the forest. And they were looking into him, through him.

Then James smiled, biting into Izzie's neck hungrily. He resisted the urge to shriek. A king did not scream…

However, Azazel did panic, portalling into his master chambers, throwing Danny's son at the wall. Jamie slid down like a rag doll, looking up through white bangs, staring, begging. Chains materialized and locked around his joints, holding him down. Once he was secure Azazel approached wearily.

"Please…" Jamie started, misty eyed, "screw me…"

Azazel stared, bewilderment written across his face, slightly scared. What on Earth was wrong with this kid? He was taken out of his thoughts then, as Jamie tried to eat him again. Azazel backed up, snapping his fingers.

The chains rose up and dragged Jamie onto the bed, holding him there. Jamie continued to plead, writhing against the bonds. "Make it stop…"

Azazel nodded to himself, forming a solution. "I'll be right back, okay? I'll find someone for you to fuck." He disappeared immediately, unwilling to think too deeply about what he was doing.

Jamie thrashed on the bed, the burning destroying what was left of his conscious mind. He was going to die. If he didn't have somebody soon, he was going to implode over and over until his heart stopped beating. He knew this to be true, whether or not it made sense.


Shylo was reading when his mother came in. He was flipping through an old Latin text, contemplating his next move towards escaping this place. His candles were burning dimly, and his grey-blue eyes itched –he was probably going blind.

Azazel burst through the door, no knock, as expected. The difference was written on his face. Mother's eyes were panicked – which was odd considering he rarely felt fear, and even rarer did it show. "C'mon," Izzie hollered at him, pulling him onto his feet and rushing them to the most elaborate bedroom in Hell.

"What is it?"

His mother gave him the cold hard look he always did before an order. They got to the golden embedded door and opened it.

Inside, on the bed, was a teenager. His clothes were shredded, and the sheets surrounding him seemed to be victims as well. The male's caramel colored skin was shiny, covered in a layer of sweat.

Shylo looked questioningly once more.

"Go fuck him."

He looked at his mother in disbelief, but only for a fraction of a moment. No need to let on how he felt. And besides, mom said to do it. Shylo would never dream of disobeying. Going against his mother led to a fate one-thousand times worse than death.

He nodded quickly, stepping inside, going to the bed.

The beast-boy's eyes flashed open as soon as the door closed. They were misty, and yet more clear than ones eyes should be. They looked into him, begging him to come closer, to take him.

Shylo couldn't help but smile, just a little, as he climbed onto the bed. He watched hesitantly as Jamie forced himself to hold still.

"Please… screw me…" Jamie said hoarsely, trying to touch this stranger.

Shylo climbed onto his hips, calmly, slowly, watching as Jamie winced. Then, "Of course I will," the chains disappeared.

Free. Jamie rolled on top of Shylo, switching positions, giving a sultry grin before shredding the visitor's clothes, just as he did his.

This boy let him do as he pleased. He didn't complain as his clothes were destroyed, flung into next Sunday. Nor did he protest as Jamie kissed his neck, sucking and licking his way up and down, marveling at the fluttering of his new toy's heartbeat. He even whimpered when James reached his chest, nipping around sensitive flesh. Jamie almost wanted to thank the boy. But that could wait, this couldn't.

Jamie feathered his fingers down to Shylo's hips, feeling his pulse race. It was like riding a rollercoaster, every new beat made his head rush, pumped more adrenaline into his system. Jamie liked this new rush.

He bit at a nipple, smirking as Shylo mewled. He continued sucking and pulling, hoping for a new sound, just as amazing as the first.

When Shylo proved to be silent as a mouse, whether by choice or nature, Jamie moved on. He moved lower, growing hasty. The heat was building up again.

As soon as Shylo felt Jamie's hand pass his hips, sanity came back to him.

If I have to do this, I am not being uke.

Jamie let sharp his as they rolled over again, Shylo perched on top. His eyes narrowed, this stranger would not top. If he had to be in heat, James had to preserve what little dignity he had left (however small).

But Shylo would not roll back over, no matter how hard he pushed. Shylo didn't look strong, but Jamie couldn't compete. He whimpered when pale hands pinned his arms to the downy feathers above his head.

Shylo smirked triumphantly, holding fingers in front of Jamie's mouth, "Suck."

Jamie bit his lip.

Shylo sighed, reaching out for his mother's headstand, groping around for lubricant. Fingers closing around the tube, he opened it up, coating his fingers, before prodding at Jamie's taut entrance.

Jamie whimpered beneath him, with the same look of hesitancy and uncertainty as before. Shylo bent down, kissing him, it was okay.

As soon as he felt the muscles loosen he pushed in, invading Jamie's mouth as he gasped in either shock or pain.

At first Jamie let out a cry, the fingers hurt. And they wouldn't stop moving. In, out, in, out. Shylo wouldn't let him catch a breath – wouldn't give him time to get used to it. The friction was unbearable as Shylo added another digit, then another.

He wanted to scream, scream past Shylo's lips, scream until he felt safe. Felt sane. Felt right.

And then, he did scream. But not from the pain. No, it wasn't painful

It was wonderful. He felt over the edge, like he was falling off a cliff. He was skydiving, and he could hear his own heart, feel it throbbing. He loved it.

"More…" James mumbled, unaware he was even speaking.

Shylo stretched him some more before finally deciding to position his member. He kissed Jamie again, keeping him muffled as he forced himself in. Shylo almost came right away. It was so tight, so hot, so wet... perhaps from the sweat?

And Jamie was moving up and down of his own accord. He was riding it, utterly in bliss. Jamie's eyes were closed, life was ecstasy. Every second blended together, forming one long moment of wholeness, of serenity. There was no pain, there was no unfulfilled urge pushing on him. He was perfect. This was perfect – no, beyond perfect, this was Eden.

Then, the moment ended. Everything got white, or rather, blank. He saw nothing, and felt everything.

Almost as quick as it came, it was over. Everything disappeared, he felt numb. His eyelids were heavy as lead, and he couldn't seem to force them open. Jamie barely registered Shylo collapsing onto him before he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.