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The Colors of a Druid

Chapter Text

Ireland, 500BCE, Samhain.

Theodric gathered his robe around him, and pulled the hood over his head, the icy gusts banished from invading his ears. He walked up the slope towards the other figure standing at the top, dressed in white, cloth trailing on the wind. Theodric smiled to himself and nudged the druid as he stopped next to him. “Misty and cold, the season has turned faster than expected.”

“So, it would seem.” Stiles glanced at him, expression careful, before turning back to look down at the village. “Did you have any trouble in the crossing? There have been reports of bandits attacking travellers on the southern bank of the river.”

“Unfortunate.” Theodric shrugged, a smirk playing about his lips. “But they were no trouble, or at least, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Oh, I’m sure you handled them perfectly.” The druid replied dryly, before abruptly changing the subject. “Are you prepared?”

“For our yearly ritual?” He smiled toothily at Stiles. “Of course, you know how I look forward to this!”

“Do you need to sound so eager?”

“It’s one of the few occasions you have to spend time with me.”

“Yes, it is.” Stiles muttered, looking up at the grey sky, frowning. “Was it like this when you left this morning?”

“No, it was clearing, the sun was warm on my face.” Theodric followed his eyes upwards. “Why? Do you feel something?”

“Other than my skin crawling from your very presence, darach, no.” He replied, his curt tone undermined by the smile that played around his lips. “The portents were unclear, but the day that it is, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Speaking of the day,” Theodric gestured meaningfully, and the two druids began to walk down the other side of the hill towards the village. “What does the Chieftain seek from this Samhain? Peace, prosperity, the death of all his enemies?”

“Scotti cares only for the fertility of the clan,” Stiles shrugged. “He believes that the bigger the men are, the more warriors and farmers both we will have. It makes a certain sense.”

“These children must grow up first.”

“I know, and it also creates a certain, hmm…surplus!” Stiles smirked at him as Theodric arched his brows. “Don’t play coy, you know that blessing gains strength based on that creature whose blood is shed for the gods’ consumption. A cow will give good fertility, that is true, but it will not sate the appetites of Aed, he desires more-”

“Succulent flesh?” Theodric finished as Stiles nodded. “I see, so, who have they chosen?”


“I thought he was the smith’s apprentice?” And your favorite?

“He is.” Stiles sighed, sharing Theodric’s disapproving frown. “Scotti chose him over a warrior, Liam. Either will appease the gods and bring a strong blessing, but a warrior would give us more power.”

“And save Korey.”

“Yes,” Stiles flushed as his eyes met Theodric’s. “But it’s not about keeping him safe, it’s about keeping the whole clan safe; we need the power of a warrior’s blood soaking the soil.”

“I thought didn’t you care about power.” The darach laughed shortly. “Anymore.”

“There he is now.” Stiles pointed between two of the roundhouses, ignoring Theodric. “Such a pity.”

“He is quite handsome…” Theodric looked hungrily at the youth, short dark hair and an innocent face, but his arms were well defined from working the metal all day. Just how I like them!

“No, Theodric, choose someone else from the village to have your way with tonight,” The druid shook his head firmly. “Try Liam, actually. Scotti will agree to it.”


“He will once I explain that I’ll be right by your side!”

“Just like old times, huh, Stiles?” Theodric grinned and they continued walking through the village. He frowned as farmers and hunters bowed their heads at Stiles reverently, while the women muttered darkly in his own direction, before going silent as soon as he looked at them. “I’m beginning to see why you traded a sanctuary in the forest for a bunk in the roundhouse.”


“Respect. They respect you.”

“And they fear you, Theodric,” Stiles glanced at the darach. “Just like you’ve always wanted. I heal the sick and injured, I keep the gods appeased, I channel the will of the forest and the beasts and the earth and make it known to my chieftain, keeping the clan safe and healthy.”

“And I don’t?” He looked offended. “If not for me and my control of the shadows, your precious village would have been overrun by werewolves seasons ago!”

“Be quiet!” Stiles hissed, reaching out to grab his arm. “Bad enough to speak of them on a day when the sun is high and bright, not in this accursed fog.”

“It’s even closer than when I arrived.” Theodric looked at him, anger draining from his voice. “How long until the blessing is renewed?”

“We will perform the sacrifice after dark, as always.”

“We should do it sooner.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head and nodded at Korey, now stoking the fires of the forge. “The ritual is set; his final hours are his to spend as he pleases. I will not abandon tradition.”

“Very well.” Theodric nodded reluctantly. “I would speak with the sacrifice.”

“You haven’t before.” Stiles muttered, but walked over to the smithy with him. “But then, none of them were quite so…delicious.”


Korey finished adding more charcoal to the center of the hardened clay forge. He pushed the red-hot embers around evenly and looked up as the two robed men approached him. “Greetings, Stiles, and, uh, honored druid.” Korey flushed, not recognising the hooded one.

“Greetings, Korey.”

Korey nodded silently, eyes fixing onto the druid dressed in white, the one he was used to seeing, though it was usually from the back of the clan as they gathered to watch him heal or work some of his magic. Stiles. It was a strange name, but Korey never had the courage to ask him about it. Of course, I would have to be noticed first. He snapped his eyes away before the man could notice his lingering stare and glanced at the other druid, fear curling in his stomach as he remembered stories of the dark ones, dressed in black cloth: the darachs. But those were children’s tales and he had been a man since the previous Imbolc, though in name only; the fertility festival had passed without personal celebration. Liam forgot about me as soon as he entered the room and Scotti was all over him… Korey blinked as he realized they were looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat, “What do you require?”

“You are already giving your life, we do not require anything else.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true.” The darach smiled, moving closer. “I haven’t seen you before, though I return to the tribe but once every Samhain, so perhaps our paths have not intertwined yet?”

“I would have remembered.” Korey swallowed hard as the darach lowered his hood. He was handsome, with piercing eyes and tanned skin from long hours spent under the sun, his hair shorn short along the sides, twisting runes tattooed into his scalp. “Uh, I am Korey.”


“Oh.” The exile. Korey recovered quickly as the forge crackled and flared next to him. “This mist is making me nervous. It feels unnatural.”

“I must speak with Scotti.” Stiles turned away, nodding at the Chieftain as he emerged from the roundhouse, shirtless and yawning. “When I return, we will leave for the Nemeton, Theodric.”

“Of course.” The darach smiled lightly, and then looked back at Korey. “You are right to fear the mist. Not because of what it hides, but what hides within it.”

“Werewolves?” Korey whispered, looking around furtively. “So, they really do exist?”

“Closer than you’d think.” Theodric smirked and glanced behind him. Korey could see Stiles gesturing irritably at the other druid, while Chieftain Scotti grabbed one of his wives and kissed her passionately. “Ah, it would seem I am needed after all.” He looked back at Korey, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “I will see you this evening, your clan will honor your sacrifice, and usher in many new children under the blessing your blood will bring.”

“Thank you.” Korey watched him leave, biting his lip hesitantly. It was the Chieftain’s decision, a choice between favoured brother or the blacksmith’s ward. He poked the embers moodily, there was no choice but to do this for his clan, at least then they’d remember who he had been.


Stiles nodded at Theodric as they entered the sacred grove, the sun having slipped beneath the horizon when they finally left the village, the way lit by torches. Two large bonfires burned bright on either side of the grove, dancing shadows cast against the enormous trunk of the hallowed oak. He was surprised that Scotti had let the darach have several of his “brothers” for sating his desires after the ritual was complete, but the Chieftain was in a jovial mood, with news that his wife Ciara was with child. The Nemeton towered over them and Stiles closed his eyes, feeling its power thrum through him, soothing his troubled mind. Theodric had bowed his head, and the druid could feel the energy flowing into both of them, imbuing them with shadow and light, strengthening their ability to balance the magic they would channel for the blessing. “Come, they will bring Korey to us soon. The fires are burning, and the veil is growing thinner.”

“I can feel it.” Theodric nodded and flexed his fingers, the ghost of smoke curling around them. He looked up as Stiles watched him coolly. “You have to admit that the power is close, just outside our reach.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to join you in tearing it from the Otherworld.”

“You managed to invite yourself to my private ritual.” The darach smirked at him, “I don’t blame you, Stiles, living within the clan might give you respect, but you’re about to sacrifice the only one who you actually desired in the village.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles glared at him and walked closer towards the stone altar at the center of the grove. “Tell me!”

“I did not need to skim your thoughts, I could see the way you looked at him.” Theodric spread his hands. “Tonight, above all nights, we control life and death. We can send Korey on his way, then reclaim the body, and bring his spirit back!”

“Only a darach would think that is a good use of the gods’ blessing.” Stiles shook his head, looking over the ceremonially etched surface of the stone, fingers tracing the channels where blood had flowed from previous sacrifices. His eyes took up where his hands could not follow, the channels of blood would form into a single thick stream, falling down to bathe the exposed roots of the ancient oak and unleash the power of the gods. The tree curled around the altar as though it was more than just a living thing, as though it had the same sentience as man or beast. He looked back at Theodric, the other druid still waiting for his reply. “We proceed as planned. You collect your reward for balancing the forces, and I will not see you until Samhain is upon us again.”

“As you wish, Stiles.” Theodric muttered, taking his place beside him. “You always were the better druid.”

“Only because you strayed into darkness, my friend.” Stiles clasped his arm, “There’s still time to return-”

“No, he’s here.” The darach cut across his words and gestured at the procession as they were led into the grove by the Chieftain. “Our mentor’s death was my fault, there is no coming back from that; even if the clan still needs me.”

“As you wish, Theodric.” Stiles echoed the words back at him, hardening his expression as he watched Korey being brought forward, the young man’s face determined and impassive, though his hands shook as he was released by Liam and the other warriors, standing alone in front of the altar. “Let us begin the ritual.”


Korey looked up at Stiles and Theodric as they finished their mystical incantations, the druid smiling sadly at him, while the darach stripped him of his clothes. His body had been washed and purified before they had left the village, but the misty night air was cold as it ran over him causing him to shiver. Korey swallowed hard, seeing Theodric pick up the long, jagged silver blade and hold it over him, Stiles’ hand placed on top of the darach’s. He closed his eyes after rolling his head back, his last image of the handsome druid’s face and the branches of the Nemeton reaching into the fog high above him.

“Oh, mighty Aed, chief among the gods, look down on this willing sacrifice and bless the clan of Scotti with strength and fertility! May the innocent blood of this virile youth demonstrate the depths of our devotion to you!” Stiles finished the prayer and nodded at Theodric.

“Donn, keeper of the dead and guardian of the Otherworld, see this spirit through your sacred doorway and into the heart of the earth where he may live forever.” Theodric glanced one more time at Stiles, but the druid just shook his head slowly. The darach turned back and finished the final invocation. “Take him from this world now as the veil crashes down among us and spirits walk the land! Take him, Donn, take him!” Together the druids started to plunge the dagger into Korey’s chest while chanting the verse. “Take him! Take him! Take him! Take-”


They stopped as the sound blasted around them, the flames of the bonfires dancing wildly, and looked across to the other side of the clearing, seeing two red embers glowing in the mist. There was silence for a moment, before other roars and howls echoed around them, and more lights appeared in the fog; red, gold, blue. Theodric dropped the knife as Scotti and his warriors drew the short daggers they were wearing, moving to confront the werewolves. Smoke curled around his fingers and the runic tattoos on his skin burned with blue light. Theodric nodded at the approaching werewolves as Stiles ran towards the Chieftain, his hand already full of grey powder.

Korey opened his eyes, looking around as the two druids moved away from him, the ritual forgotten as they confronted the werewolves. He sat up, reaching down to grab his loincloth and slipped it around himself quickly. There was a scream nearby and he slid down, hiding behind the altar, peeking out when the accompanying snarl turned into a whimper. Korey’s eyes grew large and he watched as Theodric clenched his fists, the very earth rising up to smash the werewolf backwards. Stiles was standing beside the Chieftain, his hand thrust outward, brows drawn tight with concentration, his robes whipping around him as though battling a furious storm. Another werewolf, shrouded by the mist and flickering shadows of the bonfires charged towards the druid. Korey stood up, about to shout a warning when the werewolf collided with a shimmering barrier, sending the naked man-beast tumbling back into Theodric’s next attack. He went very still suddenly, hearing a shuffling, snorting noise behind him. Korey looked over his shoulder in time to see a large bare-chested man with the deformed face of a werewolf and burning red eyes charge forward and pick him up, throwing him across one shoulder effortlessly. “NOOOO! Help! Hel-” His cries were cut off when the monster cracked his head against the altar.

Theodric grinned victoriously as the last of the werewolves turned and ran. But the expression disappeared as soon as he heard Korey’s desperate cries. “Stiles!”

“I heard.” The druid glared at the mist where Korey had been dragged away, seeing flashes of green light. “We need to get him back.”

Chapter Text

Theodric looked over his shoulder as Stiles returned to him, the druid’s face pulled into a stern expression. “Are they safe?”

“As safe as can be expected during the Samhain.” He replied, drawing level with the darach. “Scotti and his clan have barricaded themselves inside the roundhouse, and I have encircled them in a ring of ash.”

“Won’t that cause problems?”

“Better that he and the clan are secured inside the circle,” Stiles shrugged. “I can let them out in the morning. Besides, you know as well as I do that he’ll use the time well!”

“I can only imagine.” The darach replied drily.

“Don’t worry, Theodric, I’m sure your payment will still be available after we return with Korey.” He smirked. “You might even have to stay an extra day!”

“Oh, well, I suppose that would be…acceptable. This way.” Theodric gestured at the forest beyond the Nemeton grove. “To the burial mound, the werewolves went inside.”

“The Doorway.” Stiles nodded his understanding and followed him through the mist, moss covered trees looming out of the gloom, but Theodric seemed to be able to see in the dark with ease. It was but a short walk before they reached Dictone’s tomb; a large earthen embankment that stood between two smaller oaks, trees that had only begun to emerge from their sapling stage. Theodric glanced at him, they both knew the significance of the darach’s presence here. “You can go in, I buried him myself, the stones are sealed.”

“How can you be certain?” The darach lingered by the twin carven megaliths at the entrance, reluctant to go further. “It is Samhain, he may have risen with the other spirits.”

“If the druid wants to kill us, he will kill us.” Stiles pointed out sharply, smirking as a thought occurred to him. “Of course, it’s more likely that he’ll want you to suffer first, you did kill him after all.”

“By accident!”

“Or mistake.”

“Do you really want to drag up the past, Stiles?” Theodric looked furiously at him. “Right now? We need to get Korey back, complete the ritual, craft the blessing-”

“I know what we have to do.” Stiles snapped at him and ducked his head, entering the narrow passageway. The darkness within was stifling, but Theodric followed him a moment later, his eyes glowing eerily in the gloom. “I need you; light the way.”

The darach smirked to himself, anger forgotten as his eyes flared, a green fire burning in the center of his pupils. The magical flames ignited along his shoulders and raced across his hands, illuminating the inside of the tomb, pale stone walls reflecting the unnatural light against their faces. “You’ve forgotten how to do this? I showed you how.”

“I try and avoid practicing the arts of corruption.” Stiles glared at him. “How many spirits are you dragging down to the Tech Duinn to fuel our quest?”

“As many as Donn requires to grant me power. Opening a door to the Otherworld is not easy, or free, Stiles.” Theodric pointed at the wall across from them; jagged and dirty, where the others were smooth and clean. “They came through here.”

“Open the Doorway.” Stiles stood back, allowing Theodric better access. “We are running out of time.”

“Better to use our power to bridge the gap between the worlds, Stiles, than risk getting trapped in the Beyond, should we fail to find Korey before sunrise in this one.” The darach whispered, his eyes closing in concentration. He extended a hand and stretched his fingers outwards, green fire rushing down his skin to the ends of his nails, billowing like smoke in the wind.

Slowly, bit by bit, Stiles could see the shape of the portal emerging; runic symbols and carvings highlighted in green mist, twin pillars framing a pool of darkness. Theodric’s face was tight with the effort, pale and drawn, the god of death using the darach’s life force to fuel the opening of the Doorway. Shaking his head, the druid reached out to touch his shoulder, the fire parting around his hand, and closed his eyes too, the ritual of healing was common and frequent with a leader like Scotti.

“Almost…there…” Theodric grunted, the doorway becoming more corporeal by the second. Some of the tension from channelling his dark magic eased, a warm sensation seeping into his bones as Stiles balanced his power draw. “There!” He gasped and released his hold on the magic of Donn, his face returning to its healthy tan complexion. “Ah…thank you.”

“I’m not going to retrieve our sacrifice without you, Theodric.” Stiles squeezed his shoulder gently, and moved forward towards the shimmering pool of black liquid standing vertical in the air. “I can feel the corruption of the werewolves as they passed through. Are you ready?”

“I am.” Theodric nodded wearily, accepting the silently offered hand, and together they walked through into the Otherworld.


Korey woke with a start, blinking hard to clear his eyes, his vision fuzzy and blurred. He tried to use his fingers to clear them, but his arms were tied above his head; a long pole driven into the ground behind him. Korey could feel the roughness of the wood on his bare back when he struggled, and a quick look down his muscular, if lean, chest confirmed that he had been stripped naked, his feet tied to the pole as well. The young man froze when snuffling sounds reached his ears and he looked up slowly, his blood running cold as he saw a heaving, grunting mass of hair and flesh and limbs piled on top of each other across from him. He had heard that werewolves were man-beasts of endless lust and rage, hurling themselves at each other when there was no human prey to sate their base desires.

Korey tried to remain as still as possible as he watched them writhing and groaning and humping against each other, the air filled with the stench of their sweat and rent by aroused grunts. He managed to pull his eyes away as the one who grabbed him mounted another werewolf and they gave in to their animalistic passion. Gods! Please, save me! Someone has to… The memory of the druid from his village flashed before his eyes, the man staring at him as Korey fumbled his way through the Rite of Manhood, flushing when Liam and the other warriors laughed at him. Stiles had had a stern gaze, though it was filled with warmth. Korey bit his lip and tears dripped down his cheeks as hopelessness washed across him. And the closest I was ever going to get to Stiles was when he killed me… The werewolves howled loudly, and Korey’s eyes widened as he saw their seed fly high into the air, swallowing nervously as the first monster dismounted, his heavy cock reaching half way down his thigh. Please hurry! You can even sacrifice me again!


Theodric glanced at the silent forest around them, the sky tinged in the dark blue of twilight. Stiles stood up and called him over. “What?”

“Do you see these tracks?”

“I’m not a hunter, but werewolves for certain.” Theodric glanced around. “It’s never this quiet.”

“Well, I can only speak for myself, but I’ve never been to the Otherworld on the Samhain, the spirits are probably wandering our world instead.” Stiles looked up, a sudden smile on his face. “But not all have ventured forth.” His eyes clouded over, and a large magpie fluttered down from the branches above them, landing on his shoulder.

“Good idea.” Theodric nodded. “We can use the bird’s eyes to see farther.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Stiles muttered, lifting his hands into the air, the bird rising as words of power fell from his lips, "Tabhair do shúile dom, agus a roinnt i mo chuid eolais!" His eyes cleared and returned to their natural shade, but the bird’s shifted to white and it flew upwards with a cry. “I’ll see what it sees, and we will find our sacrifice.”

“Still planning on going through with it?” Theodric asked as they began to traverse the forest floor, helping each other over the large trunks of fallen trees and moss-covered hillocks, hiking their robes up so they wouldn’t fall. He looked back at Stiles when the druid didn’t reply. “Well?”

“The ritual sacrifice must be completed.” Stiles sighed, “Scotti desires many children and the virtue of his large cock passed to all male warriors in the tribe. That’s going to take a lot of power.”

“And your own desires must be buried to achieve this?” Theodric shook his head. “If I wasn’t a darach already-”

“You would pervert the blessing again, just like the first time.” Stiles cut across him, attempting to sound harsh, but failing as he laughed at the memory of the new Chieftain waking up on the morning after the Samhain four cycles before. “Do you remember how the woollen blankets lifted into the air, such was the height and girth of his manhood?!”

“I do,” Theodric chuckled. “He yelled and screamed and threatened to kill me, but I only gave him what he wanted…”

“A hefty sword to rival all others!” Stiles grinned at him. “If not for the Gaul, I think he would have killed you.”

“Alyson did save my life, that is true, if she hadn’t mounted him there and then, haha!” The darach kept smiling, nudging against Stiles as they crossed a brook. “Those were fun days, fond memories.”


“And I would like to see them return.” He held up his hands when Stiles looked sharply at him. “I do not mean returning to the clan, I know I cannot, but you could come to me. It’s only across the river, where the mountains meet the forest.”

“Theodric…” Stiles sighed, his expression sad. “You tell me that every Samhain, you ask me to visit you, when you know I can’t. Ritual and duty are the only things that will bring us together.”

“This is still about the White Elk.” Stiles didn’t answer, stopping and pointing upwards. “Is it them? Have you found the werewolves?”

“Not exactly…”


Darkness fell around them when Stiles and Theodric crested the hill, a vast battlefield spread out as far as the eye could see; hundreds of corpses strewn about the field, the stench of blood and death thick in the air. The scene was lit by bonfires and torches, details highlighted by the flickering flames; the embroidered pattern on a warrior’s shield, the look of surprise at a sudden death on the face of another. But as the druid and darach edged closer, now on their stomachs to avoid being caught up in the battle, they noticed that only two warriors were left fighting. “Champions.” Theodric whispered, grinning at Stiles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a battle on this scale.”

“The raid five, six, cycles ago?” The druid smirked, “If I recall, you ran and hid in the cheesehouse!”

“They were stealing the children!”

“You were a man for three seasons!” Stiles retorted, his stomach clenching pleasurably. It was always fun to spar with Theodric, and as much as the darach was glaring at him, Stiles knew he enjoyed reliving their past adventures. “Can you see any clan markings?”

“No. Let’s go closer.”

“Very well.”

They continued to watch the fight, moving nearer until they could see both combatants clearly: a golden warrior battling valiantly against his opponent clad in black metal and spikes. Stiles frowned when he noticed the golden warrior’s sword go through the armored skin of his enemy. “He should be dead. This isn’t right.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Theodric muttered, unnerved as the fires burned higher but the night kept drawing in, obscuring their way back to the forest. He stood up suddenly and grabbed Stiles’ hand, pulling the druid with him. The warriors stopped fighting and laughed at them. “Run!”

Stiles swore under his breath, watching in horror as the dead warriors got to their feet, hundreds of them laughing, grievous wounds ignored, blood spilling down their faces and into their gaping mouths. The darkness continued to close in, threatening to swallow them whole. “Argh!” Stiles shouted wordlessly, using his free hand to pick up a discarded sword, and yanked on Theodric’s hand to guide him away from the bonfires. “Hold fast!” He cried out, white light blistering along the sword, the muddy ground around him suddenly bursting into thick, verdant grass, flowers curling around his and Theodric’s legs. The druid thrust the sword into the earth and the darkness was pushed backwards with a scream, the two of them flipped over, falling into the blinding light until they landed with a thump on the hard ground in the center of the Nemeton grove.


“Stiles? What was that?” Theodric groaned, sitting upright and rubbing the back of his head.

“Fertility ritual, ah, thanks.” He gasped, accepting the darach’s offered hand. “It’s very powerful, and in the Otherworld, all our magic is amplified. Remember that.”

“I don’t want your life, Stiles.” Theodric looked around, frowning. “Wait, this isn’t our Nemeton.”

“Hmm.” Stiles nodded, “The tree is bigger, much bigger. And it looks as though a ritual is already in progress.”

“Come, I want to watch it.”

“Of course you do.” Stiles muttered, but followed him anyway until he could see past the glare of the midday sun. “Wait!”

Theodric halted, hearing the urgency in his voice. “What?”

“This is a memory.” Stiles grabbed his arm and Theo winced at the sudden invasion of the druid’s mind into his own. “Ah! Sorry.”

“What was that for?” He pulled out of Stiles’ grasp angrily.

“You took Dictone’s memories, just as you took his power.”

“I told you, that was a mistake!” Theodric glared at him. “The White Elk was a manifestation of Cernunnos, I was trying to kill it!”

“How does that make it better?” Stiles groaned and turned to face him. “You still don’t understand why our master jumped in front of your attack, do you?”

“He was jealous, he knew I could have power he would never claim as his own.” The darach shook his head, anger draining from his voice. “Dictone knew that I’d share the power of the gods with you, and we’d become kings, just like the-”

“Shut up!” Stiles shouted at Theodric, ignoring the screams of ritual sacrifice on the altar behind him. You…idiot! After several minutes of intense silence, he turned away, looking at the druids across from them, bloodstained robes and silver daggers flashing in the brilliant sunlight of high summer. “Theodric, let’s just go, find our sacrifice, get our blessing, and part ways as we always do.”

“Very well.” The darach’s eyes lingered on the back of Stiles’ head, flicking over to look at the group of druids as they edged around the Nemeton’s sprawling roots. “What are they doing?”

“Something monstrous.” Stiles muttered, gesturing at the two piles of bodies on either side of the altar. “Wolves and men; blood and bone and power.”

“The first werewolf? Dictone helped create them?”

“Perhaps, it happened long ago. Before he died, he told me that he had not always worn the white robe.” Stiles glanced at him. “I suppose that’s why he took us both as acolytes.”

“Light and dark.” Theodric nodded his understanding, about to continue when a howl echoed out across the grove. “Oh…I guess they succeeded.”

“Run!” Stiles yelled, and the two of them fled into the forest as the man-beast leapt up, burning red eyes and fearsome features, claws glinting in the sun as it ripped its creators apart.


The sky had clouded over, roiling orange and bruised yellow, as Stiles and Theodric moved silently through the dead forest, leaves turning to mush underfoot. “It’s all rotting away.” Stiles muttered, shivering. “We’re close though; the magpie spotted Korey just through that thicket.” He pointed, and Theo nodded.

“Good, but your powers are weakened here.”

“And yours are strengthened by the decay.” Stiles grimaced, pulling him low, the howls of the werewolves audible now. “But I have other allies than just plants to call on, Theodric.”

“I remember.” He grinned, but the expression slid off his face as they confronted the crude dwellings of the werewolf camp. “Donn’s breath!”

“There he is!” Stiles whispered, pointing at Korey, the naked youth tied to a pole at the base of a perverse Nemeton; a tree made from dozens of men, women, and children flayed and held together with wooden stakes, hands and feet splayed out in a mockery of branches. Sickly trees surrounded it in a rough circle, weeping corrupted sap onto the black grass underfoot. The druid’s hands balled into fists as he watched a scrawny werewolf lope over to Korey, anointing him with blood and oil. “Sacrilege!”

“Stiles…” Theodric’s voice was low, dangerous. “Look beside him.” Their eyes flicked to a wide hollow, filled with wood and charcoal, a crude spit being erected over it. “They’re going to eat him!”

Chapter Text

Stiles frowned, glancing between the fire and Korey. “I’m beginning to wish we brought a warrior or two along.”

“I don’t think Scotti’s sword would have helped.” The darach smirked as Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, perhaps his giant cock would have distracted them?”

“Maybe he could club them to death with it.” He muttered, shaking his head as he counted the man-beasts he could see. “That is a lot of werewolves.”

“We can take them.” Theodric replied determinedly. He reached under the dark wool of his robes and pulled out a long, wicked looking blade. “Those bandits you mentioned earlier, they really won’t be a problem for travellers anymore.”

“Heh,” The druid smirked at him and dipped a hand into a hidden pocket in his sleeve. “You’re not the only one with surprises. Do you remember this little fellow?”

“He was never little,” Theodric said when he looked over; a small pale blue bear carved from quartz sat in Stiles’ hand. But the darach nodded and looked back into the camp. “Very well, we charge in, cause some chaos, and grab Korey?”

“It’s not that easy, there’s far too many of them, even with both our powers and Roscoe covering our flank.”

“You named the spectral bear?” Theodric grinned at him as Stiles flushed. “What am I saying, of course you did!”

“Hey, when Scotti goes to war, I ride that bear into battle; he’s saved my life!” He stopped smiling suddenly as the grass nearby crunched underfoot. Stiles looked intently at Theodric. “Let’s take out some of the patrollers, then I’ll charge in on Roscoe in first. You grab Korey and open the Doorway and get out of here.”

“What will you be doing?”

“Destroying that abomination.” The druid gestured at the human Nemeton and stood up. The nearby werewolf uttered a surprised gasp, but Stiles moved rapidly, diving onto the monster and slamming him to the ground. “Fás.” He whispered and the corrupted grass turned green, shooting upwards to wrap around the struggling werewolf, trapping him.

“Wow.” Theodric muttered, grimacing as the verdant stalks pushed into the werewolf’s mouth, suffocating him. “You really do have those fertility magics practiced to perfection.”

“And that’s only plants,” Stiles smirked, eyes flicking over him. “Let your mind imagine the powers I wield on people!”

“Oh, I am.” Theodric grinned back, but nodded at the other side of the werewolf camp. “I’ll go this way, take out the other guard.”

“Thank you, it’s been a while since I summoned Roscoe, he could be upset.”

“Placate the spirit, we need the help.” Theodric murmured and slipped away into the darkness, following the line of thick bushes along the eastern edge of the camp, closer to Korey. His eyes glowed with the same green fire as before, and the darach held his dagger tight in his hand, listening carefully for any sign of the werewolves. Theodric had almost reached the edge of the open ground near Korey when he threw himself flat, narrowly missing the large, hulking form of a black-haired werewolf. You walk on two legs and wear pelts in mockery of clothing, but you are a man no longer! He thought to himself, waiting for the werewolf to move past him, turning slightly. Theodric grinned at the perfect target and leapt upwards, his silver-bladed knife flashing in the darkness. The darach grunted as he felt blood spill onto the front of his robes, his weapon plunging deep into the monster’s neck. The werewolf fell heavily, but seemed to be unnoticed by the rest of his pack. Theodric crouched close to the ground, trying to ignore the smell of the monster’s rancid sweat, smiling instead as he watched them gathered around the other end of the camp where Stiles was waiting. “Bring down nature’s fury!”


Stiles patted the pale blue patch on the spectral bear’s head fondly, Roscoe’s claws emerging from heavy paws. “You’re ready, then? Good, so am I!” The druid climbed onto the bear’s broad back and closed his eyes, concentrating. Despite the corruption of nature and perverse sacrilege that had happened in this place, he could still feel the mystical energy of the Otherworld flowing beneath his feet. His eyes flicked open and Stiles stretched out his hands, the ground beside him bucking and quaking until the roots of dead trees shot upwards. Two long spears rested in his hands, the points sharp and strong. He urged the bear to charge with his knees. “Go!”

“Rawr!” Roscoe growled and snorted, beginning to move forward, picking up speed as he did so, bursting out of the treeline right as a curious werewolf lowered to all fours to sniff at the ground. The spectral bear roared and smashed into her, using his broad head to bash the werewolf to one side. Stiles struck out with one of the spears, slashing her exposed back, and directing Roscoe towards the fire pit. The werewolves were howling, and the druid slid off the bear’s back, rolling forward as the first of the monsters took a swipe at him.

Theodric was already moving towards Korey, his knife slashing wildly at the scrawny werewolf who was preparing the young man for their feast. “Die!” The darach cried out, burying his knife in the monster’s chest, blood soaking the ground underfoot. He turned in time to hear the snarl, but not to duck, and was sent flying backwards as a female werewolf punched his chest, driving the air from his lungs.

“No! Come on! Get up!” Korey cried out, seeing the darach fall, and the werewolf turn her attention on him. He struggled desperately with the thick rawhide bindings on his hands and feet. Korey glanced over at Stiles, seeing him battle the big werewolf, eyes widening at the sight of the ghostly blue bear fighting next to him. Korey’s attention was pulled back to the female werewolf as she reached out to slash at his unprotected chest, rage in her blue eyes. The young man closed his own, but the expected cut never came. He blinked and looked at her, seeing the werewolf’s entire body shaking, arm trembling, face locked in a rictus of horror.

“Leave. Him. Alone.” Theodric growled, his raised hand curled into a fist. Korey stared as shadows flickered behind him, sparks of silver and gold dancing in the air. He grimaced when the darach threw his fist backwards and the werewolf howled, bones shattering audibly.

Theodric stepped over the twitching pile of flesh and protruding bone, his knife flicking out quickly to cut Korey’s bonds. The young man fell against his chest, and Theodric patted his back comfortingly, hugging him tight. “It’s alright, we’re here for you.”


Stiles smirked as soon as he saw Theodric had freed Korey and were limping back towards the treeline, green fire engulfing the darach’s body and wrapping around Korey’s protectively. He reached behind him to touch Roscoe’s flank, the Alpha werewolf in front of him watching him cautiously, already healing from a dozen cuts. Stiles moved carefully around him until he was standing in front of the mass of humans twisted into the shape of the Nemeton. Roscoe charged forward suddenly, catching the remaining werewolves off-guard, and scattering them backwards. The druid glanced at the flames nearby and smiled as an idea came to him. “This one is going to cost me…”

Theodric paused with Korey at the edge of the werewolf camp, about to begin the ritual to open the Doorway, when a strong gust of wind buffeted his robes, pushing Korey further against him. He looked back to see Stiles standing in front of what had to be the Alpha werewolf, arms raised above his head, shimmering white bands wrapping around his body. “Oh, fuck…wait here.” Theodric helped Korey sit on the ground and rushed back towards Stiles as the earth began to shudder and crack, the druid pulling on the same power as he had before the attack. “You fool!”

“Ah!” Stiles grimaced, long slashes appearing across his hands and arms, the blood spilling out only to be picked up by the wind swirling around him. The werewolves had all cowed down, burying their faces in the muddy soil and covering their pointed ears with clawed hands. “ARGH!” He gasped, pouring more of his life force into the spell; more wounds ripping blood from his body. Theodric stopped in front of him and Stiles forced himself to smile. “You’re supposed to have left!”

“Not without you!” The darach thrust his hand toward Stiles’ chest, grunting at the burning resistance until he could feel the cloth under his fingers. “Just because you’re in the Otherworld doesn’t mean you can break the rules. An incantation of this power needs balance!”


Korey stared at the two of them, raising an arm to shield his face from the sudden brilliance as a white orb formed around Stiles, and then encompassed Theodric, changing color until it was more grey than white. But it was still blinding, and he was forced to look away, mirroring the werewolves by dropping his face into the grass protectively. He could hear a high-pitched whine that got louder and louder until his ears popped and Korey cried out in terror, feeling wind blast over him, stronger than any storm he had ever experienced. The bright light suddenly vanished, and he looked up, blinking at the scene of destruction before him. “Wow…”

Stiles slumped to his knees, glancing behind him to see the remains of the human Nemeton fall apart; flesh and bone turning to ash on the wind. He gripped Theodric’s arm and allowed the darach to help him upright. Roscoe had vanished, Stiles tapping the spectral bear’s power to finishing casting the obliteration spell. His wounds were healing, Theodric’s eyes holding him steady. Stiles nodded gratefully, spitting out a mouthful of blood, his throat blistered and raw.

“Stiles…we’re not free yet.” Theodric muttered, pushing him back towards Korey as the werewolves began to sit up, the Alpha glaring at them hungrily. “We need to get out of here!”

“Open the Doorway,” The druid looked at him, nodding again. “Samhain is not yet over, and I have no more power to call on. These monsters perverted that which we hold most sacred, if Aed and Donn desire an offering of flesh and blood, let’s give them one!”

Theodric smiled and nodded grimly at him, letting Stiles stagger forward on his own, baiting the remaining werewolves towards them. He pulled Korey to his feet, “Don’t worry, we have a plan. One that will save all three of us.” The darach reached out with both hands, green fire pouring into the air, the Doorway reappearing, runic inscriptions glowing brightly as a pool of black water hung in the air between the pillars. “You go first!”


Korey’s words were cut off as he was shoved through the Doorway. Theodric grabbed Stiles’ hand before the Alpha was able to claw at his back, the two of them collapsing into the pool. Stiles screamed in pain as he fell out of the portal and onto the hard, stone floor of Dictone’s tomb.

“Hurry!” Korey pulled him to his feet, grabbing his hand and using the other one to help Theodric up. He nodded at the Doorway, a bloodied, twisted face emerging from the vertical pool, red eyes burning with hatred. “What do we do?”

“Pull back to the Nemeton.” Stiles gasped, pushing them both ahead of him. “It’s our only chance!”

Chapter Text

Korey ran ahead of them, out of the forest and into the sacred grove, sliding to a stop when he saw the entire clan gathered beneath the Nemeton, swords at the ready, the Chieftain’s hands raised towards the sacred tree as though in the middle of a prayer.

“Keep moving!” Stiles cried out from behind him, pushing Korey forward until he too stopped and looked around. The druid glared at Scotti. “What are you doing here? I told you that you’d be safe inside the consecrated circle.”

“Alyson broke the barrier.” Scotti replied as Theodric crashed through the undergrowth. “It didn’t feel right to be hiding when you’re out here fighting.”

“Hmm.” Stiles grunted, eyes drawn down his naked chest, before flicking upwards. “These are evil werewolves, Scotti, intimidating them with your manhood is not going to work!”


“Go back to the edge of the grove.” The druid pointed and glared at him, tilting his head slightly on hearing the frenzied howls of the werewolf Alpha and the remains of his pack. “Go, I will have the power to grant you the blessing you crave in a matter of minutes.”

“What about him?” Scotti pointed at Korey, the young man standing deliberately behind Stiles, looking over his shoulder at the Chieftain. “Is he not to be sacrificed?”

“No, I have something much more powerful in mind.” Stiles grinned and turned in time to see Theodric sprinting towards them, a red-eyed monster charging after him on all fours, more beast than man. Scotti pulled out his sword and raised it defiantly, some of his warriors standing beside him, Liam levelling his spear at the werewolf.

“We’re with you, Stiles!”

“Very well, draw them towards the altar, as close as you can.” The druid pushed Korey ahead of him, letting the warriors rush towards the werewolves. Theodric dived out of the way, rolling behind the altar as the two sides clashed. The air was rent with howls and screams as claws parted flesh and swords cut through muscle. Stiles grabbed Theodric’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Come, we need to prepare for the sacrifice, there are three of them and only two of us.”

“I can help.” Korey said, looking between Stiles and Theodric, the darach smiling and nodding at him.

“We need him, Stiles.”

“Yes, we do.” Stiles nodded and picked up the ceremonial blade that had fallen on the grass after the werewolf attack earlier that evening. “You will act as a conduit for our power. Once Scotti and Liam draw the werewolves close enough to the altar, we will strike.” He looked over as the Chieftain drove the Alpha towards him. “Theodric, do you have ash?”

“A handful.” The darach pulled a small bag from around his neck and tipped a pile of fine black granules into his palm. “Scotti! Push the werewolves together!” The three of them watched as Liam slammed one of the hulking man-beasts with the butt of his spear and the werewolf was sent sprawling into the others. “Now!” Theodric leapt forward and threw the ash upwards, twisting his wrist around so it fell in a perfect circle around the werewolf Alpha and the two remaining members of his pack, trapping them within the magical barrier.

Stiles grinned triumphantly, looking at Theodric and Korey as he cut the palm of his hand open, blood welling up. He passed the knife to the darach, and Theodric mirrored him, before dropping the blade onto the altar. “Now, Korey, take my hand.” The young man grasped his uninjured hand firmly, doing the same with Theo, while the druid and darach pressed their bleeding hands together.

Korey gasped as a flood of energy rushed through him, seeing the same brilliant white light as before, except this time it was flowing around him, crashing over the trapped werewolves, illuminating the entire grove better than the high summer sun. He looked over his shoulder, jaw slackening as the Nemeton itself glowed; a silver outline along its trunk and branches. “Wow…”

“Great Aed, these foul creatures have walked the hallowed ground of the Otherworld and corrupted your mystical home with their profane perversions!” Stiles called out, tilting his face upwards. “We call upon you to honor us with a blessing for capturing them in your name!”

“Donn, keeper of the dead and guardian of the Otherworld, we ask that you accept this offering. In the place of one youth, we give you three man-beasts of the basest corruption!” Theodric smiled as the Nemeton began to pulse before their eyes, as though a heart beat inside it. “Bless the clan of Scotti with your benevolence!”

There was silence in the grove after the darach finished his prayer; the three of them maintaining their connection, Scotti and Liam standing nearby, chests heaving after their battle, while the trapped werewolves looked around nervously. Without warning the ground beneath the monsters’ feet quaked and cracked open, spectral hands reaching up to claw at their legs, deep gashes appearing when the ghostly fingers touched their flesh. Theodric and Stiles watched in satisfied silence as the werewolves were slowly torn apart inside the circle of ash. The barrier shimmered and strained, but held together, even as torrents of blood splashed against it and chunks of flesh were stripped away, the pearly white of bone showing for a second, before it too was cracked open. Korey grimaced but kept looking at the gruesome sight, frowning when he thought he saw the faint outline of phantom jaws tearing at the Alpha, silencing his final howl.


Theodric released Korey and Stiles, smiling as he looked at his hands. “It worked, see?” He held up his hands, palm outwards and Korey blinked at the smooth flesh, no sign of the cut that had been there moments before. “Ah, now I feel my power returning.”

“It was a generous offering.” Stiles replied, gesturing for Scotti and the rest of the clan to come forward. “And the clan of Scotti will be blessed by the gods for delivering such a sacrifice!”

“Do you mean…?” The Chieftain asked eagerly, his cock lengthening and engorging, standing well out from his body. He gestured proudly at it. “They’ll be all endowed as such?”

“They will.” Stiles nodded, trying not to laugh. “Gather your warriors as I prepare the blessing. And Scotti, tell them to remove their clothing, we don’t want things to rip!”

Theodric didn’t hide his grin as excited chatter spread among the young men and women of the clan, but he felt Korey nudge him slightly. “What is it?”

“I don’t want a bigger one!” He looked at Scotti as the Chieftain eagerly displayed his cock, longer than the sword he was carrying and as thick as the strong warrior’s arm. “Not that big!”

“Don’t worry, Korey.” Stiles smiled at him, patting the young man on his shoulder and running his eyes down his naked body. “Only the warriors are to receive the blessing, and you look like the perfect size to me. Don’t you agree, Theodric?”

“Oh, yes, indeed.” The darach grinned at him, Korey returning the smile as Stiles moved into the center of a circle of the naked warriors, raising his hands upwards.


Stiles stepped out of the verdant patch of wildflowers and grass, a side-effect of the powerful blessing. He smiled at Theodric and watched as Korey, seemingly in a daze, walked after Liam, the warrior using both hands to try and encircle his new, massive girth. “I think our work is done here.”

“Agreed.” Theodric laughed, inclining his head in the direction of the village. “Shall we? I can already hear Scotti enjoying the benefits of his well-endowed clan.” Stiles nodded silently at him and together they walked away from the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, endless moans of pleasure, and the occasional groan of a suddenly too big cock popping through resistance. “I could do with a drink.”

“Oh?” Stiles side-stepped a couple as the man pushed into her with wild abandon. “I think I have mead in the herbalist’s hut, the clan will be busy until sunrise.”

“The blessing?”

“Scotti did say he wanted to expand the clan as soon as the warriors received his gift.” Stiles smirked, glancing back to seeing a look of pleasure washing over the Chieftain’s face. “I thought they should get started!”


Korey stood back a little as he watched the rest of the clan enjoy themselves. Scotti had always been very free with his emotions and it had become common practice for intimate acts to take place in public settings. Though, he had never expected them all to start fucking in the middle of the Nemeton grove. He looked around for Stiles and Theodric, thinking that they would be offended, but the druid and darach had gone. Korey sighed, it didn’t seem to matter that he had just helped them destroy three monsters to create the blessing that made every warrior in the clan as big as Scotti. He was still invisible.

“Uh, Korey?”

He turned around, smile tugging at his lips as Liam stood in front of him, his powerful cock standing straight up, the tip resting between his pectoral muscles. “Um, Liam. Greetings.”

“You helped the druids, right?” The warrior arched a brow, moving closer to him, a smirk forming as he saw Korey’s cock stiffen to its full hardness. “With the blessing?”

“Um, kind of.” He swallowed hard as Liam reached out a hand to trace across his chest. “One of them is a darach.”

“Really?” Liam muttered, eyes flicking up from his naval and he grinned. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m very grateful.” He fell to his knees and wrapped his mouth around Korey’s cock before he could object.

“Ah!” Korey bucked forward in surprise, his cock pulsing inside the wet, warm mouth. Liam’s hands were on his ass, pulling him closer, deeper into the warrior’s throat. “Ohhh!” Liam slurped enthusiastically on his cock, pulling off now and then to lick the head and kiss the underside down to Korey’s balls, taking them into his mouth for a brief moment, before releasing them and working his lips and tongue back up to Korey’s head, sucking the thick shaft back inside. Korey groaned, his hands resting easily on Liam’s hair, but he didn’t have to do anything, the warrior was sucking him off with practiced ease. “Ohh, gods!” He rolled his head back, eyes closed and thrust in and out of Liam’s silky mouth. “Ah! Oh! Yes!” He gasped, flushing at the noise he was making, sweat winding its way down his muscular torso, but his mind kept drifting away from Liam, and back to Stiles and Theodric. After another few minutes of earnest sucking and thoughts of Stiles’ mouth on his cock instead of Liam’s, Korey stood back, pulling out of the warrior’s mouth with a wet pop.

“What is it?” Liam frowned at him, standing upright. “Was something wrong?”

“Um, no, no, it was great.” Korey assured him, his eyes catching sight of Scotti nearby, balls deep in one of his wives, one hand snaking around his back to finger himself while he fucked her. “Err, just…the Chieftain needs you!”

“What…oh, I see.” Liam nodded and smiled at Korey. “I’ll find you later, and we can finish this!”

“Great.” He nodded in return, watching for a moment as Liam got into position behind Scotti, pushing his large dick into the Chieftain. Korey smirked, his dick twitching when Scotti yelled out that it was exactly what he needed, but the young man turned away, determined to find Stiles and Theodric.


Stiles looked over his goblet at Theodric. “Well, is the mead to your liking?”

“Sweeter than mine, anyway.” The darach nodded, looking around at the well-stocked shelves, his eyes falling on the small bed along one wall. “I thought you slept in the roundhouse?”

“I do.” He put down the goblet and walked over to pick up a clay pot. “This potion takes five days to make, a single missed step and all you have is goop. If I sleep here while brewing it, I won’t be disturbed.”

“What is it?”

“A cleansing paste,” Stiles pulled off the lid and offered it to him. “For wounds, as well as more intimate desires…”

“Oh.” Theodric grinned and finished the rest of his mead as he rubbed the substance between his fingers. “You know how terrible I am at potions and tonics, I could do with a pot of that.”

“As part of your payment?” Stiles smiled in return, moving closer. “Or for it?”

“For it, of course.” The darach whispered, his hands reaching out to pull Stiles against him, their faces tilting towards each other. “But we really should test it first, make sure it’s still fresh.”

“Mmmh, sounds good.” Stiles muttered, eyes closing as Theodric’s lips brushed against his. They were as soft as he remembered, the same passion and fire igniting in his stomach, Stiles letting his own lips part ways, a shiver racing across his tongue when the tip of Theodric’s pressed against it. “Ah!”

Theodric pulled away from him, laughing quietly as both their robes tented outwards. He removed his in one easy motion, standing in front of Stiles, naked and aroused. His cock twitched when the druid smirked at him and mirrored the gesture. “Mmh.” Theodric groaned louder as Stiles reached down and tugged on his cock, smearing a bead of precum along the shaft. “Ah!”

Stiles smirked at him and knelt down on the straw-strewn floor, wasting no time in licking the head of Theodric’s cock, pulling it into his mouth. The darach bucked forward into him, hands on his head. Stiles smiled around the thickness, remembering the last time they had done this, before the hunting party set out to find the White Elk. Theodric was moaning loudly above him, and he forced the unpleasantness of that day from his mind, concentrating only on the cock on his mouth and the hand wrapped around Theodric’s shaft, pulling him on and off again, matching the rhythm building between them. Stiles froze as he heard his name being called out, Theodric’s following a moment later. He pulled off the cock, and glanced up. “Is that Korey?”

“I think so.” Theodric smirked impishly at him suddenly, raising his voice. “We’re in here!”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you out.” His grin got bigger when Korey entered the hut, surprise on the young man’s face. “Greetings. You were looking for us?”

“Uh, yeah, but I can see you’re, um, I can come back.” He flushed as his cock began to rise again, not having bothered to get clothing as he searched the village for them. “I’ll just-”

“Stay.” Stiles smiled at him, gesturing for him to come closer, and reached out to pull him over when Korey’s cock got close enough. “Stay with us.”


Korey groaned loudly as Stiles’ mouth slipped over the tip of his cock head, the thick shaft sliding into the velvety wetness without compliant. He glanced at Theodric, smirking as he watched the darach’s hands move up and down along his spit-slick shaft. “Ahhh!” Korey shuddered, looking down at him, as Stiles met his eyes, the obscene sight of the druid’s cheek bulging when he rubbed Korey’s glans against the inside of his mouth. Much like Liam had done to him earlier, Stiles pulled off his cock, his tongue slurping down Korey’s shaft, his lips still parted as Korey fought the urge to just thrust back inside, precum dribbling down onto Stiles’ chest. “Ahh, yes!”

Stiles smirked at him, glancing across at Theodric, the darach grinning eagerly, and he sucked Korey’s cock back into his mouth, taking about half of the thick shaft inside, the head pressing at the rear of his throat. He hummed contentedly and saw Korey’s abs ripple as the sensation washed over the young man.

Korey’s hand reached out, and he ran his hands through Stiles’ hair, pulling him deeper onto his cock, as the druid continued his undulating actions. He moaned as Theodric lent into him, watching his hand moving faster up and down his own cock. “Ahh, oh, yes!”
The darach caught Stiles’ eye and the druid nodded, letting Korey’s cock slip from his mouth, and filled it with Theodric’s instead. Korey was thicker, but there was an almost soothing familiarity about having Theodric in his mouth again. Stiles sucked him as vigorously as before, watching from the corner of his eye as Korey moved his hands up and down his cock, avoiding the head. He pulled Theodric’s cock from his mouth and looked up at him. “Korey seems very close to the edge, and we don’t really want him to erupt out here and spoil the balanced fragrance of the herbs, do we?”

“No.” Theodric returned the grin, glancing at Korey. “We do not. Still your hands, this is a task for your mouth!”


Theodric bent over the narrow bed as Stiles finished activating the potion. He grimaced and then grinned as the spell worked quickly, allowing him to look over his shoulder at where Korey was standing, his cock returning to full strength again. “Do you know what to do?”

“I’ve seen Scotti do it to Liam sometimes.” Korey flushed as he spoke, realizing that he was not meant to have witnessed those moments. But Stiles simply smiled and guided him over to kneel down behind Theodric, getting down next to him, and reached out to pull the smooth, tanned cheeks back. Korey groaned, his cock pulsing when the hairless pucker came into view. Theodric wiggled his ass in his direction and Korey didn’t need a second invitation, diving forward to press his face into the crevice.

“Ahhh!” Theodric yelled out, feeling Korey’s tongue flick against his hole aggressively, lips kissing and spitting into him, trying to push deeper inside. “Oh! Ah! Yes! Harder!” Stiles was holding his ass cheeks open with one hand while the other ran up and down his back. Theodric ground his hole backwards onto Korey’s face, the slurps and wet sounds making his cock drool uncontrollably beneath him. Just as he thought he was about to explode from the overload of pleasure, cool air hit the wetness around his ass and Korey pulled back.

Stiles grinned at him, giving his cock a quick pull, before taking over from Korey, grinning at the deep puffy redness of Theodric’s ass, open and inviting. He used his tongue more than Korey, flicking it into the winking hole, feeling Theodric press back against him, letting his firm cheeks close around his face, trapping his tongue against the heat of the valley. “Mmh!”

“Let me!” Korey begged him, pulling at Stiles’ hand, eager to get his mouth back onto Theodric’s ass. Stiles smirked and held open one cheek, Korey doing the same. There was a moment of silent communication before they both dove on the exposed hole and took turns flicking their tongues across the sensitive ring of muscle; one kissing his cheeks and licking along his taint, while the other tongued his ass and made Theodric moan and pant and gasp uncontrollably.

“Uh! Ah! More! Give me more!” Theodric writhed against them and pressed his weight against whichever tongue and lips were kissing his hole, sweat dripping off him as his cock begged for hands to stroke it. He resisted and resisted until finally the onslaught was over and cool air was again drying their ministrations from his skin. “Alright, uh,” Theodric gasped, “I need you in me.”



“Great!” Stiles grinned at him and handed the young man another pot. “Smear this on your cock; it’ll protect both of you and prolong the pleasure. You may feel a slight tingle!”

“Ohhh!” Korey gasped as he spread the slippery substance on his shaft, the head of his cock pulsing pleasurably. He lined himself up with Theodric and at Stiles’ nod, pushed deep into the darach’s ass. “AH!”

“Ah! Oh! Wow, you’re big!” Theodric grunted, raising himself off the bed with Stiles’ help to better impale himself on Korey’s cock. He was moving slowly at first, pushing into him and then pulling out almost to the tip, before sinking back inside. Stiles placed his hands on Theodric’s chest, pushing him back onto Korey, watching them fuck for a moment, before he got up on the bed and shuffled forward, cock held out for the darach’s open mouth. Theodric took it eagerly as Korey began to speed up; harder, faster, more aggressive with his pushes, hands on his hips, digging in to get a better grip, ploughing Theodric deeper, making him yell around the cock in his mouth. “Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Oh, you’re so tight!” Korey cried out, thrusting forward harder than before, making Theodric yell louder. “Will you do the thing you just did? Yeah, that’s it!” He groaned as Theodric’s ass clenched around his cock and Korey moaned, going still suddenly, his head resting against the darach’s back. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked even as his cock was still sucked with the same fervour as before. “Are you alright?”

“Um, I’m just really close.” He flushed, and squeezed his eyes tight. They all paused for an unbearable moment, and then Korey opened his eyes nodding. “I can keep going.”

“Stiles,” Theodric said as he backed into Korey’s cock and away from the druid’s, “Do you want to get fucked?”

“Err, yes, of course.” Stiles grinned and turned around, recognizing the look in Theodric’s eyes. He backed up, biting his lip as he felt Theodric’s tongue pressing into his ass; a few cautionary licks making Stiles grind needily against him, and the darach laughed, swiping his tongue from Stiles’ taint all the way up into his hole, eliciting a long, low growl of pleasure from him. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!”

Korey watched Theodric and flicked his eyes eagerly across Stiles, letting them continue for a while until he felt the tingle in his balls and stopped fucking Theodric. “Um, do I get to fuck you too, Stiles?”

“Haha, wow!” Stiles laughed, looking over his shoulder at Korey’s flushed skin, sweat making his muscles glisten in the torchlight. “And I was thinking you were the quiet one in the village!”

“Not sure you should be surprised,” Theodric mumbled around Stiles’ ass. “He’s part of Scotti’s clan! We’re all like that!”

“Even those who have left us…” Stiles muttered, grunting as Theodric moved away and grabbed his thighs, pulling the druid towards him. “See? Aggressive!”


“Why am I doing all the work?” Theodric complained and he pushed into Stiles and pulled back into Korey, the other two remaining stationary.

“Because you’re the darach and you owe me?” Stiles grunted, his cock pushed against the bed suddenly, Theodric’s hard body slamming into him. “Ah!”

“Oops!” Korey giggled, snapping his hips as hard as he could, forcing Theodric to collapse on Stiles’ back with another gasp. “But, please, can you two hurry up? I’ve been waiting to cum since Theodric started to suck you, Stiles!”

“Fine, fine, so pushy.” The druid grinned and jerked back into Theodric. “We’ve got enough power to heal away any…thing that might get hurt. So, go on, give it to me!” He grunted, Theodric suddenly speeding up his pace, Korey calling out loudly above him. “Ah Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Stiles panted over and over; he could feel Theodric getting closer, but it was Korey that came first.

“OHHHHH!” Korey cried out, his lips formed into a perfect O, eyes closed as Theodric’s ass clenched around his cock and he could feel himself pumping cum into him. He tried to stay still, but the action seemed to drive Theodric over the edge, slamming into Stiles hard enough to make the wooden frame of the bed creak dangerously. The sound of flesh on flesh was loud, his hands slipping on the sweat streaked skin of Theodric’s tanned back and stomach. Korey could feel his cock hardening again, using his own cum to continue to push into Theodric.

Theodric grunted and groaned, intelligible words falling from his lips as he pushed deep into Stiles one last time, the druid bucking and yelling his name beneath him even as the pleasure swept over him and he drenched the inside of Stiles’ ass with his cum. He grinned as Stiles bucked into him once more and smirked at them over his shoulder. “What?”

“Did you cum?” Korey asked, sliding out of Theodric, his cum pooling under the darach’s ass. “I’m hard again, I can fuck you if you want?”

“Haha,” Stiles laughed to himself. “Uh, firstly, yes, you can fuck me. But, um, I just came without touching myself!”

“So, we’re going again?” Theodric grinned. “I seem to recall that you have a powerful hardening portion!”


Theodric pulled his hood over his head and walked up the hill towards Stiles, the wind was considerably less strong than the day before, and the fog had thickened, obscuring all but the top branches of the Nemeton in the distance. He slowed to a stop beside the druid and nodded at the village in front of them. “Any ill effects after last night’s…revelry?”

“Apart from general soreness and chafing?” Stiles smirked at him. “No, all is well. Though you may need to come back later for your full payment; the warriors require time to rest and recover.”

“That is acceptable.” The darach laughed. “I think we all need some time to recover after last night.”

“Indeed.” Stiles nodded, and pointed towards the forge, smoke rising from the smithy. “What do you think? Does he have the temperament for a druid?”

“Hmm.” Theodric narrowed his eyes as a brown-haired warrior emerged from a nearby roundhouse and struck up a conversation with Korey. They both watched in silence, smiling slightly when Korey accepted the warrior’s offered hand. “I think he would be better suited on his current path. The clan need him more than we do.”

“Agreed. And Liam is known to share!” Stiles turned away from the village, hefting his stave. “Are you ready to go?”

“I am.” Theodric walked with him, back towards the river. “I’ll see you again soon?”

“Imbolc is not far off, and if the snows of winter bridge the river as expected, you may see me sooner than that.” Stiles paused at the edge of the bank, Theodric turned and kissed him gently. “Farewell, my friend.”