A/N: Here it is! The final part of this plot bunny I've been obsessing about lately.


The next morning, Atticus woke with a start from the sounds of Charlie getting ready. Blinking groggily, it took the cat a moment before he processed his position on the carpet in the living room; arms wrapped tightly around Bandit's middle - holding him close. He removed them immediately, tried to sit up, but the snoring beast held on tightly - as if compelled to keep him close even in his sleep.

The severity of the situation hit Atticus with a sudden rush; he'd bonded with this dog in ways he didn't even understand. Remembering what they'd done the night before was almost too much for him to bear.

Panicking, he used all of his strength to get the dog off - trying not to waste any time. He was going to use this chance to escape while he had it. Atticus made to stand up before a sharp pain from his lower half rocketed through his body. He tumbled back to the floor pathetically, hissing in pain, waking Bandit up.

The husky reached out for Atticus, but the lynx managed to crawl weakly on hands knees at least a few feet before Charlie entered the room – toothbrush in hand.

"Oh – there you are. I wondered where you two were."

Bandit couldn't help but wag his tail at his master, looking damn proud of himself as Atticus suffered. He resisted the urge to venomously declare all of the previous night's events out loud just to get Bandit in trouble. He wanted to call the dog out for how he'd been forced to submit like that; though his face burned at the unbelievable memory of the night before and Atticus found he couldn't bring himself to say such things to Charlie.

"I woke up kind of lonely," the man continued, beaming and completely unaware of Atticus' discomfort. "Were you two playing again? How about some breakfast?"

Bandit yawned before standing up and eagerly followed Charlie to the kitchen. Atticus did not attempt to follow; trying to deal with the pain in his ass and the horrifying reality that this dog was his master. He could feel it in the core of his being – bonded on a primal level - and at the thought of it, the cat's heart pounded violently.

As he tried to think just how the hell it had all happened he was reminded again and again of that awful heat and his stubborn refusal to bond Charlie as his master instead. Of course the greedy dog would take advantage of that – but beyond the obvious, Atticus enjoyed being wanted. It was a feeling long over-due. Claire had simply been his mama who babied him when possible; Ed had been the authority, and look where that had gotten him…

"Come on Atticus! Breakfast!" Charlie called from the kitchen, noticing the feline's reluctance to move.

The cat tried once more to stand up – slower this time. He tried not to be so obvious with his hobbling but Charlie didn't take notice anyway, completely blind to the going-on's as usual. It was no wonder that Bandit always pressed his luck and was so possessive and demanding; Charlie was a good owner, but not a very firm master - a push-over like the very first day Atticus stepped foot in the apartment.

Joining them at the counter, Atticus pulled his breakfast close and started eating slowly. He was just in the middle of wondering what he was going to say to Bandit later, when Charlie gasped loudly and pulled at the cat's shirt collar.

"Wh-what are these marks?" the human asked, wide eyes bewildered and looking desperately at Bandit. Atticus froze. He couldn't see the marks on his neck, but if the pain still throbbing there was any indication…

Bandit grew defensive immediately, tail sticking straight up. "The Kitty likes it," he argued, and Atticus had to spit out his food before he choked.

"You did this, Bandit?" Charlie asked, voice rising as he exposed more of Atticus' neck for emphasis. The man's eyes were bulging – disbelieving. "You bit him?"

"He's my Kitty," the wolf answered. "I'll do what I want."

"No, Atticus is not yours Bandit! Not everything is yours, and you can't just do whatever you want! I thought we went through the biting thing after you attacked Mrs. Simms next door!" Charlie looked the most irritated that Atticus had ever seen him. The cat felt a compulsive need to clear the air, but Bandit was already making it worse.

"He is mine," he continued, ears pressed flat against his head as he turned icy blue eyes to Atticus.

The cat was spared from making any kind of confirmation as Charlie waved an impatient hand in the air. "I'm already running late. I don't have time for this. We'll talk when I get home, Bandit, and you are not to lay another finger on Atticus until then or else." With that, the owner gave one last, sympathetic look to the cat before hurrying to put on his shoes and coat; out the door quicker than the feline would have liked.

Atticus set back to eating his breakfast, head down, eyes avoiding Bandit. The dog was busy devouring everything in his sight, though, and didn't bother addressing Atticus until he was finished. "Hey – share that with me," he said happily – tail wagging back and forth now that Charlie was gone. He leaned over Atticus, staring at the remains on his plate and the cat pushed it closer to the greedy beast.

Atticus wasn't that concerned about his food anyway.

Getting up and leaving Bandit to the rest of his meal, he sauntered into the bedroom, curled up in Charlie's warm spot and tried to think of anything but his master. It was nearly impossible - and when Bandit showed up in the doorway a few minutes later, Atticus turned his face into the sheets, thinking there was no escape.

Then again, when Bandit's warm body pressed against his back, Atticus wondered if escape was what he really wanted.

"The human told you not to touch me again," Atticus reminded with a mutter into Charlie's spot. The dog laughed, hands pulling the cat's body until the feline was purring against a large, warm chest once more.

"Or else?" Bandit prompted happily. A rough hand scratched Atticus' ear, and for a long time, Atticus let it happen; wondering why he didn't hate all this with his entire being. Fighting Bandit off just seemed like so much work. Atticus was helpless to let it keep happening over and over. This time – however – the heat had been satiated. It was not nearly as out of control. He was able to enjoy the closeness without being overwhelmed and within moments, he was back asleep.


Hours later, Atticus woke with Bandit digging his nose into his neck; grinding an obvious bulge against his back; warm hands sliding his shirt up higher and making contact with his sensitive skin.

"Stop that! What are you doing?"

Although Atticus had a pretty good idea.

Bandit inhaled deeply, tail wagging on high speed – thumping the mattress over and over excitedly. "Wanna play?" he suggested.

"No!" Atticus refused, heart hammering wildly at the thought. Besides the obvious fact that he shouldn't give in, he was still sorer than he'd ever been in his life. The pain crippling his ass was only barely tolerable even as he lay doing nothing.

"Don't pretend for even a second you won't release all over yourself if I touch you," Bandit insisted with a growl into the lynx's ear. His hand slid over the kitten's crotch – barely making contact through the fabric.

Atticus damned his reaction to these words. If he wasn't hard before, he sure as hell was now. His purring started; lower body stirring with heat at this damn dog's will. "Stop… No - I don't…wanna play..." Bandit was harsh at the refusal; digging hands into the kitten's thighs; tongue raking its way along the collections of bites and bruises on Atticus' neck. "It – hurts still," the cat whined as the cruel bulge that was his master pressed up against his still very sore ass.

"Poor Kitty," the beast agreed. "Just the front I promise… just here…" another brazen attempt at Atticus' crotch but this time the cat was already so hard he could barely stand it – letting out a soft cry at the heat's awful return without meaning to.

He was momentarily torn; unable to decide if it was good or bad having his master abuse his power like this. How could he possibly fight back, and more importantly, did he want to? "Just the front," Atticus conceded shamefully - face too warm. He was thankful his back was to Bandit; would rather be in his grave than have the dog see him with this kind of expression.

At his permission, the beast's limitless excitement grew; tail beating the mattress on high speed. Bandit pulled Atticus' pants clean off in one motion, as if he'd been preparing to do this for the last few hours. "Me too," he insisted, working at his jeans.

"Don't hurt me!" Atticus screeched, slightly panicked as he remembered the dog was notorious for not holding back; a ghost-like tremor of pain throbbing in his ass. It was too late though - jeans were already flying across the room and Bandit was pulling the limber cat back against his naked lower half, spooning him again and making Atticus' heart skip a few beats.

"Calm down," Bandit warned, curling the cat's tense body against him. "I won't hurt you, Atticus."

It was hard to believe, but somehow Atticus managed to relax slightly. Somehow, he trusted his master even when he was unable to look him in the eye - even when the dog had already done the worst thing possible to him without holding back...

Bandit's rough hand lifted his leg and Atticus shut his eyes tightly; bracing himself just in case. Then, when all he could feel was something warm pressing against his rock hard shaft, Atticus opened his eyes for a peak, heat overcoming him at the sight of the dog's cock between his legs.

He struggled immediately, trying weakly to pull himself out of Bandit's tight embrace, but the beast was simply too strong. Using the arm bent under Atticus' neck, Bandit's hand held Atticus still by the head as the he spoke – all warning, all growl - "Kitty." Bruises ran along the lynx's hips from the previous night, and they were still painful as Bandit gripped one with his free hand.

"You're hurting me already," Atticus accused – one ear flattened in discomfort, though he was undeniably excited, especially at his master's next words.

"Stay still then," Bandit suggested. "Or I'll bite you black and blue." The rough, hip-holding hand released as soon as Atticus froze in place at the command. Fingers trailed soft skin to the almost unbearably hard situation at Atticus' front, and as Bandit shoved his hips forwards, his engorged cock rubbed against Atticus, making him moan softly.

The heat was making Atticus irrational again. He could feel the way it ignited every muscle in his body; the way it fogged up his mind; the way it made him buck slightly against the beast. Deep down he knew he was making it way too easy for Bandit to get what he wanted but a growing part of him was so willing to obey.

Bandit's chest rumbled against his back as Atticus started to submit and relax. His hand was surprisingly gentle – but hotter than magma itself - as it wrapped around the two members rewardingly. Atticus didn't know how much he wanted this until it was happening, and at the contact he was unable to help the throaty gasp that escaped him – mewling with need.

The dog basked in the sensation of his kitten melting against him. He teased the feline by rubbing his swollen head along the throbbing vein in Atticus' cock, eliciting another beautiful noise.

"Hurry up," Atticus hissed, hot desperation overcoming him as he tried reaching down to touch himself and get rid of this heat finally.

"No," Bandit commanded, "don't you dare touch what's mine." It was definitely an order. Atticus' hands dropped to the mattress from the force of it and he whined at the unfair situation, hands twisting into the sheets in an effort to obey. Wasn't this his body? Why couldn't he touch himself as he pleased? "That's right, this is mine isn't it?" Bandit asked. He emphasized his hand's position with a squeeze of the two cocks, pre-cum dripping from Atticus. Nodding desperately into the bedding at the question, the lynx wholly desired those fangs in his neck just so he could cum for real. His tortured body shook from the waves of heat as he moaned with longing.

Bandit was amused - pure evil in his voice. "I'm not hurting you, am I Kitty?"

Atticus shook his head but kept silent at the twisted game this alpha wolf was playing. If he opened his mouth he was sure he would say things he'd regret later.

Just as his hips began to gyrate uncontrollably, Bandit made an irritated noise; sliding out from Atticus' legs, and thrusting back in, cockhead rubbing obscenely against his submitted kitten's member.

"Aahhhnnmmmore," Atticus pleaded, completely consumed with the heat radiating from his lower body. He wanted to cum more than anything in the world just to get rid of it. He was so close he could feel it...

Bandit was satisfied with this and accommodated the request with another thrust between the feline's legs; a primal growl low in his throat at the sight of Atticus breaking to pieces. "How much more, Atticus?" the beast encouraged.

The kitten did not want to say it – would rather die - but he was also out of sorts, head spinning deliriously at the idea of the pleasure Bandit would give him. "Lots - I-I need – nnnnnggg!" he managed, voice breaking as Bandit grabbed the two slick cocks once more; warm hand jerking hard and fast and bringing them both to the brink of orgasm way too soon.

Atticus was consumed with earth-shattering, white-hot pleasure as he came with his master – all of the pain in his body leaving as he rode the orgasm until soon he was panting hard into the bed, trying to recover. His whole body tingled with an odd sort of sensitivity - the heat wasn't necessarily going away - instead it became just dull enough that it was bearable again.

The dog propped himself up to survey the scene with a few happy wags of his tail. "I'm blaming that on you," Bandit said, eyes focused on the wet pools of cum staining Charlie's sheets, then as their eyes locked - "What's wrong Kitty? Do you want to play again?"


They played the whole day, and it took them awhile to greet Charlie when he returned home that evening and called for them.

Even Bandit's ears were flattened in discomfort having to face the owner and Atticus fed off the anxious atmosphere like a leech – terrified at the idea of being disciplined when he was relatively innocent in all of this. Feet shuffled begrudgingly until they made it into the living room, settled on the couch, and awaited their scolding. Charlie approached with crossed arms and a sickened look.

"What is going on?" the human asked – eyes sharper than Atticus had ever seen them as the man glanced between the two.

"The Kitty is mine now," Bandit announced, purposefully avoiding looking at Charlie. "I'm his master."

The man's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "That's not possible," he said immediately.

Bandit bristled at the challenge. "I'll prove it," he offered. Atticus – just barely managing to keep up with the conversation – gave a confused look at the statement before Bandit's rough hand got lost in the fluffy hair.

Atticus glared spitefully at the beast's touch – but the attitude didn't last long. His ears perked dramatically just as soon as Bandit scratched underneath them, warm hand collecting at the nape of his neck and trailing down his spine. The kitten offered an apologetic stare to Charlie as Bandit pulled him up on his lap and demonstrated the submission with a pornographic lick to the abused neck.

"Mmmeowww..."

"See?" Bandit said happily, letting Atticus' chin fall to his chest.

"H-how did this happen?" Charlie exclaimed – loosening his tie as if suddenly warm.

Bandit shrugged, petting the cat like he couldn't get enough. "I don't know - his body just gets so hot for me I can't stand it sometimes..." Atticus remained on the beast's lap obediently – unable to find the strength to remove his knees from either side of his master. His position against the dog's chest was rather comfortable, and if he pressed his ear against him, Atticus could hear a loud heartbeat. A distant part of him remembered snuggling with Claire like this. Soft hands holding him close; running through his hair absently. He'd been much smaller then…

"Just what will I say to Edward? He's coming to pick up Atticus tomorrow!" Charlie continued in a panic, snapping the cat back to reality.

At the words, Bandit instinctively tightened his grip– a low growl starting so deep in his chest Atticus was sure he could only hear it due to his closeness. "No one is taking my Kitty," Bandit warned with a menacing glare at his master. "I'm keeping him. Weren't you thinking about it anyway?"

Charlie sighed impatiently at Bandit's possessive reaction. "I suppose I was entertaining the idea – but that was if he bonded to me."

Bandit squeezed Atticus even tighter, as if holding on for dear life would prevent him from being taken. The kitten relaxed even further into the chest, allowing the life to be embraced out of him. "You can never have him," Bandit refused angrily, although he was definitely overstepping his authority between master and pet himself.

For once, Charlie looked at least a little pissed. He rose up to full height and Atticus was close enough to hear the whine in Bandit's lungs as the master looked down his nose at the two of them. "This stops at once!" he demanded. "Bandit, hand Atticus over. Now."

Bandit twisted his body even further away defiantly, but Atticus noticed the dog's grip had loosened considerably. Not again – not another master giving him up…

"Please stop!" Atticus cried finally, as Charlie attempted to step closer. The cat fought his way out of Bandit's loose arms and tried to stand before finding – with a sharp pain – he'd really rather sit; falling back in Bandit's lap once more. "I'm sorry if you don't want me, Charlie –" but it was too painful to go on.

Charlie softened a little. "That's not it, Atticus… I wasn't sure we could keep you at first. I needed to see if you'd even survive with Bandit, and here I find this – this kind of relationship –" he was somewhat horrified; suddenly unable to look Atticus in the eyes. "Are you really okay with this?"

Nodding, the cat was a little regretful. There'd really been no need to reject Charlie so much it turned out, but this was in hindsight after being claimed so thoroughly.

Bandit leaned back coolly – taking the cat with him into the couch as if getting settled once more and problems were solved. "We get along great, what's the problem?" With another greedy lick, the beast had his way with Atticus once more; rough tongue eagerly licking his cheek – neck – making the cat purr loudly.

"If we keep him, you have to share him. I'll be providing for him too!" Charlie argued. Lost in the grooming, Atticus didn't really make sense of these words, but Bandit was growling quietly once more. "Bandit."

"Fine!" the dog snapped, removing his tongue from purring feline. "Nothing perverted!" With a hefty shove, Atticus tumbled onto the sofa and Bandit removed himself, tail swishing angrily. Atticus only had a few seconds to wonder what was going on before Charlie kneeled next to the purring feline and patted his head good-naturedly, taking all thoughts away and making him want to sleep - safe and peaceful.

Gold eyes blinked contentedly at the human, and Atticus relaxed further into the pillowy softness of the couch; finally closing eyes completely. Charlie scratched between Atticus' shoulder blades, rubbing expertly - making Atticus wonder exactly what the beast was doing before because this was definitely how it was supposed to be done. The limber cat stretched out lazily, flattening into the cushions and letting Charlie massage him.

"I've always wanted a cat," Charlie managed with a roll of his knuckles against Atticus' ribcage that made him turn over and expose his belly instinctively. Just as the human was about to indulge, Bandit stepped in.

"That's enough," he warned. Charlie stopped and stood up, red-faced and irritated that his time had ended.

"We can keep him under some conditions. Like he will need to get a collar – in my name –"

"Mine too," Bandit bargained.

"And that's if Ed will even let us care for him… he is a wild breed after all… worth a lot if he sold him instead, and I don't have the money for that…" Charlie continued in frantic mutters, ignoring Bandit completely.

Atticus was barely following the conversation anymore. His heart was feeling lighter than ever as Bandit placed his sleepy head on his lap – rough hand lost in his grey-tipped, fluffy hair again.

All the cat could think was how lucky he would be to have two masters.


When Charlie noticed the stains on his sheets that night he grumbled in disgust and then headed for the couch, leaving his animals full range of the soft mattress. Atticus and Bandit slept for a few hours, and then, around three in the morning, Atticus woke up by his nocturnal instincts and stared at his master in the dark.

His eyes took in everything about Bandit's appearance from a new perspective. The bridge of his nose; the dark eyebrows that were currently soft and relaxed but were usually pulled together; the soft, fluffy ears lost in short-cropped dark hair… Atticus couldn't help but reach out and touch them, accidentally waking Bandit up in the process. As blue eyes flew open, the cat realized this was what he wanted all along; attention.

He began to purr.

Maybe it was their bond, but Bandit had the ability to both completely own Atticus and indulge his pet in the best of ways. The husky did not get mad at being woken up – he simply pulled Atticus in closer as if knowing that's what he needed, hand clasping the kitten's over his chest and warming it.

"You're not like the other cats I see," Bandit said quite a while later.

"Ed says I come from far away," Atticus explained. "I was taken from my mama when I was really little." At the reminder of that dark wooden box – that un-ending nausea of travel – Atticus pressed closer to Bandit.

"Ed – your old master?" The cat nodded, able to hear the rumblings of a possessive growl beginning. "Look at me, Kitty." This order was easy to follow with Atticus' superior vision. His eyes locked at the command and Bandit's brows were back to normal; pulled into the center and very angry. "Don't let him take you, okay?"

At first, Atticus didn't understand – he was so completely removed from Ed he wasn't able to grasp the idea of being taken back. But the fear in Bandit's eyes was enough to make the cat take his master seriously.

"I won't," he promised.

"You have to tell him I'm your new master," Bandit continued, arm circling Atticus' neck and pulling the kitten closer. "Or else he will take you from me."

Atticus doubted this, but nodded agreeably against Bandit to re-assure him.


Ed showed up bright and early Saturday morning as promised. Urgent, impatient knocks sounded just after breakfast and Bandit – who'd been on edge all morning – barked harshly; eyes narrowing at the door.

Charlie flattened his hair in the hallway mirror before opening the front door wide and stepping back to let a very sharply dressed Ed through. "Nice to see you again, Edward," he greeted curtly.

"You as well, old friend," Ed muttered, as if it wasn't exactly the case and he felt the visit was a burden. The short man whipped off sunglasses and stared around the apartment before his eyes settled on Atticus. "Let's go."

It was a command. Atticus was quite alarmed at the way his body responded without any thought, making to move before stopping completely as he tried his best to remember that Bandit was his master now.

"Um, Edward – the thing is –" Charlie began; but he was a push-over with no backbone and Ed ignored him easily.

"What are you waiting around for?" Ed asked, growing impatient and staring at Atticus. "We don't have all day. We have a funeral to go to!" That word was lost on Atticus for the second time. He did not understand how this was important, or why Ed was back after leaving him all week. Hadn't he made it clear it was this or the pound? Or had that just been a threat?

Bandit was not able to hold back – he grabbed Atticus by the neck and pulled the cat in, baring his canines at the short man. "Get lost, this is mine now and he's not going anywhere."

The words hung heavy in the air for a brief moment before Ed cocked an eyebrow at Charlie. "What is your mutt talking about? Claire's funeral starts in an hour." If Atticus hadn't been at his side, he was sure Bandit would have jumped Ed right there; felt his master's body tense at the insult.

"Well you see – while you were gone – um - well it's hard to explain because I don't quite understand it myself – and I only found out yesterday…"

"Spit it out!" Ed snapped.

"Well, Bandit kind of – I mean, there is no kind of, it definitely happened – anyway, Bandit bonded to Atticus over the last few days and, as you can see, is very possessive and uh – heat - um - what we're trying to say is –"

"You're not my master anymore!" Atticus managed, but it wasn't nearly as fierce as he'd expected it to be. Actually, facing Ed like this was tearing the poor cat in two. "I'm staying here."

Ed's eyes went wide; his reaction the exactly the same as Charlie's. "This is impossible," he argued, but Bandit did not attempt to demonstrate this time. He was still baring his fangs at the man, one hand on Atticus' neck holding the cat close and ice blue eyes daring the human to make a move. "Stop messing around, we have to go. Now."

It was a good thing Atticus was being held. His body almost moved once more at the command, and as Ed's hand reached for the lynx, Bandit pulled him back instinctively; snarling; making to bite the hand right off before Ed retracted it just in time.

"Calm down, Bandit. It's okay," Charlie began, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Edward, please, let us talk about this –"

Flustered, Ed turned accusing eyes to Charlie. "Just – what is the meaning of this? If you want the foul cat so bad, he's all yours, but there's a funeral!"

Charlie was as calm, patient, and understanding as ever. The man's sympathetic eyes looked into Ed's and he nodded solemnly, finally able to formulate a string of words coherently. "I understand your loss, Edward, but Atticus will not be leaving with you today. The poor guy has been through so much already. If you take him to the funeral, he will only hurt even more, don't you think? Let us keep him here where he will be safe and loved. Isn't that what Claire would have wanted?"

Ed's jaw clenched tightly, unable to refuse this reasoning. He managed a dramatic look at his watch before glancing back to Atticus.

"We can work out a price if –" but the old master simply shook his head at these words.

"I'm not selling him," Ed said firmly, and he raised his hand to silence Charlie's coming argument. "I don't need the money, and if you're actually willing to take him, I will leave him in your care."

Charlie lit up at the words, almost disbelieving. "Are you sure? I mean, he is worth quite a lot –"

Ed made a sour face. "Yea, he's so special," he said bitterly. "Exactly what Claire wanted… even when I told her the cat would be a freak – would grow too big –" Bandit snarled again at the insults, but Ed continued. "He comes with an inheritance – once the paperwork is finished I will have it transferred to you by the lawyers."

Shaking his head, Charlie smiled and refused. "No – you have already transferred more than enough into my account earlier this week."

"There's nothing I can do about it – it's in Claire's will that the money is to be given to Atticus' owner. As her executor, I must see it through."

"How much?"

"A million and some change."

It was all becoming too complicated to follow. Atticus had no idea what this meant, or what a will was, or why it had anything to do with Ed or Claire. Still, it was somewhat impactful when Charlie's mouth dropped open.

"A million dollars?!" the man asked, incredulous. "But – don't you want –"

"I refuse to keep him," Ed seethed. "He's just a reminder of –" but he stopped himself with a deep breath. "I've got quite enough from her estate already." There was a silence as Charlie leaned back against the counter – knees wobbling at these statements. "Now if that is everything, I have somewhere to be." Without a glance back, Ed made his way to the door, putting his sunglasses back on. "My lawyers will be in contact with you, Charlie. Good day."

With a slam, Ed disappeared, leaving the apartment in complete silence.

For several minutes, no-one moved or said anything. Bandit's eyes were narrowed suspiciously at the door; Charlie remained in complete shock against the counter; and Atticus glanced back and forth between the two as if waiting for something to happen.

Finally, the lynx spoke. "What's a million dollars?"

The words brought Charlie back down to Earth, but Bandit was still giving the door a menacing glare. "It's enough money to take care of us forever."

It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but the lynx didn't question it any further.

"So do we get to keep the kitty or not?" Bandit asked, getting right to the point. "Is that guy coming back?" He gave another glance to the door as if expecting it to burst open suddenly.

"I-I think we get to keep him, yes," Charlie confirmed, his hand shaking as it ran through his hair. "I don't think Edward will be visiting again, either."

This was enough for the dog, whose tail suddenly started to wag at the news. He pulled Atticus into an embrace that was definitely tighter than necessary, but the cat was long past minding.

In fact, he was quite sure by now he'd completely and utterly bonded and submitted to this beast.


A/N: I hope you liked it!

Anyway that's it for now unless I get like, some incredible response or something. In the meantime, I'll be working on finishing up some of my other stories on FictionPress - check them out please?

Oh and... please review/follow/favorite! I always love hearing your feedback and it is very much a reward for my poor fingers that had to type this... lol!