—— 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐍 .

ㅤㅤ “… s’not.” Shepherd didn’t waste words—- never did. Instinct spoke louder than anything he could’ve put to language, creeping up from the marrow and drowning out pride. He wasn’t built for confessions or labels. Hell, the whole idea of && ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ “Wes—- *𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.” Shepherd’s hand snaps out, catching Wes by the wrist before yanking him downward. It’s graceless, all sharp elbows and long limbs as Wes collapses into his lap. The shift in the lycan had long already been underway—- his human mask thinning, && ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Wes showed up right on cue, just as Shepherd had anticipated. It never took much to steer the guy, like tugging a thread and watching the whole thing unravel. Though, if Shepherd were being honest, there was something a little telling about how his liquor-soaked && ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ A sharp snort crackled through the receiver. Shepherd’s patience was already thin, and Wes wasn’t doing him any favors. He was in no mood for games. Though, when was he ever. “Shut’th’fuck up—-“ he muttered, voice gravel, “Christ almighty, smarmy … lil’shit. M’ && ㅤㅤ