Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina-Chapter 144: Sigma

Arion let out a long, amused huff, as if he wanted to laugh properly, but the aftermath drew him in, the soreness in his own body bringing reality back into focus. His arm stayed anchored around Dean’s waist, palm warm over Dean’s lower belly.

"And here I thought you’d ask about the shift," Arion murmured, his voice rough with sleepy satisfaction.

Dean made a vague, dismissive gesture with his hand, then immediately regretted it and hissed as if gravity had personally betrayed him.

"Yes, yes," Dean said through his teeth, "that too."

Arion’s breath warmed the back of his neck, suspiciously close to a laugh.

Dean glared at the ceiling, cheeks heating. "But why my asshole?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then Arion actually laughed - quietly, low, helpless in the way only exhaustion could make him.

Dean turned his head just enough to shoot him a murderous look. "Don’t."

Arion’s laugh cut off into a cough that he disguised poorly. "Dean."

Dean’s tone was deadpan. "Arion."

Arion’s hand tightened gently at Dean’s waist, like he was grounding himself as much as Dean. "You’re impossible."

Dean’s eyes narrowed. "Answer the question."

Arion took a slow breath, as if preparing to deliver state secrets.

Then, very calmly, "Because you wouldn’t stop running your mouth." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Dean blinked. "That is not—"

"It is," Arion cut in smoothly. "You were provoking me. You were daring me. You kept testing how far I’d go."

Dean’s cheeks went hot. "That doesn’t explain why you..."

Arion hummed, and Dean could hear the amusement in it. "You want a technical explanation?"

Dean’s eyes narrowed. "No."

Arion’s voice went infuriatingly gentle. "Then accept the simple one."

Dean swallowed, then muttered, "Fine."

Arion gently kissed the back of his shoulder and said, "It looked delicious."

Dean went very still.

Then, slowly, he turned his head just enough to stare at Arion like he’d woken up next to a beautiful, armed criminal.

"You," Dean said flatly, "are not allowed to say that sentence."

Arion’s eyes half-lidded with tired amusement. "I already did."

Dean blinked once, as if rebooting. "That was..."

"Honest," Arion supplied.

"Unhinged," Dean corrected.

Arion’s mouth twitched. "You asked."

Dean’s cheeks warmed, and he hated that his body chose now to be cooperative about it. He stared at the ceiling again as if seeking legal support.

"You’re disgusting," Dean muttered, which was not an insult in the way he wanted it to be.

Arion’s arm tightened around Dean’s waist, more cuddle than restraint. "You liked it."

Dean’s voice went tight. "That is not the point."

Arion’s breath brushed the back of Dean’s neck, careful of the mark, respectful in a way that was almost worse than teasing. "It is to me."

Dean made a small, offended noise and shifted.

Instant regret.

He hissed like his own bones had filed a formal complaint.

Arion’s arm tightened around his waist immediately. "Stop fighting gravity."

"I’m not fighting gravity," Dean muttered. "I’m fighting the consequences of trusting you."

Arion’s quiet hum sounded suspiciously pleased.

Dean glared at the ceiling, then exhaled slowly and decided to ask the question before his courage evaporated.

"So," Dean said, voice careful despite himself, "about your... transformation thingy."

Dean felt Arion’s palm flatten more firmly over his lower belly, anchoring. Reassuring. As if Arion needed the physical proof that Dean was here, safe, and real.

"You noticed," Arion said quietly.

Dean let out a dry laugh. "Arion, your eyes turned into something that belongs in a horror movie, and your teeth looked like they’d like to eat furniture. Yes. I noticed."

Arion’s breath caught - half laugh, half something else. "You weren’t supposed to."

Dean’s brows knit. "Well... you snarled in my face, so there is that."

A beat.

Then Dean added, quieter, "Are you... okay?"

Arion didn’t answer immediately.

Dean hated that his first instinct was to fill the silence with a joke, to keep it light, to keep it from becoming a real conversation that required vulnerability. But his throat was sore, his body was wrecked, and Arion was still attached to him like a barnacle with a title.

So Dean waited.

Finally, Arion spoke, his voice low. "I’m fine."

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the ceiling. "That’s a politician’s lie."

Arion’s mouth brushed Dean’s shoulder in a careful kiss, an apology disguised as affection. "It’s complicated."

Dean exhaled through his nose. "Everything about you is complicated."

Arion hummed, not denying it.

Dean tried to shift again, then hissed and stopped. "Okay. Listen. I don’t need you to explain it like a medical lecture. I just need to know if that..." He swallowed carefully. "If that thing is dangerous."

Arion’s answer came too fast. "Not to you."

Dean closed his eyes for half a second.

Because of course that was where Arion’s mind went first. Dean, safe. Dean, protected. Dean claimed.

"Yes," Dean said and tried for flatness. He failed. The flash of being pinned to the wall - Arion’s body a furnace, the look in his eyes, the voice in his throat - hit him all at once, and his face went hot. "You said that while... well. You said that."

Arion made a quiet sound against Dean’s shoulder, something like amusement wrapped in restraint.

Dean glared at the ceiling, mortified. "Don’t."

Arion didn’t laugh. He only tightened his arm around Dean’s waist again. "I’m listening."

Dean exhaled, forcing the question back onto its rails. "Are you dangerous to yourself or others?"

Arion’s answer was steadier this time. "No."

Dean didn’t let it pass. "That was very quick."

Arion’s palm stayed warm and firm over Dean’s lower belly. "Because the answer is simple."

Dean’s brows knit. "Simple is suspicious."

Arion’s breath brushed the back of Dean’s neck, careful of the mark. "I can control it."

Dean went quiet for a beat, then said softly, "Can."

Arion’s hand tightened slightly. "I do."

Dean’s throat tightened, less from soreness and more from the weight of that correction.

He didn’t say ’prove it’ because he wasn’t an idiot. Arion had proved it last night in the only way that mattered: Dean had been terrified for exactly one second, and then the fear had been swallowed by the certainty that Arion would never turn those teeth on him.

But Dean’s mind was still trying to map the edges of it. The rules. The risks. The truth behind the calm.

Dean murmured, "So it won’t... get worse."

Arion was silent for half a second.

"It shows," Arion said finally. "Sometimes. When I’m pushed. I’m technically a sigma, not a dominant alpha."