Newt Scamander was unceremoniously shoved into the dark and dank cell, the guards laughing as he tripped and fell on his hands and knees. The finality of the cell's bars locking in place made the last of Newt's stoic façade crumble. Newt quickly blinked back the tears but couldn't help his low whimper as he slowly got back on his feet, his hands and knees smarting. Sniffling, he went over to the small sink above a toilet and flipped on the faucet. The ice cold water hit his scraped and bleeding palms like a thousand needles, making him gasp. Quickly, he brought his wet palms up to his lips and licked at his wounds. As a wolf shifter, his body rapidly healed wounds and his saliva helped to quicken that process. The pain quickly abated and the skin regenerated until they were like new. His knees took a bit longer, but after a few minutes of moving his legs up and down had them healed.

He jumped when he heard a rustling of clothes. A large shadow at the corner of his cell began moving towards him. Newt backed away until his back was pressing up against the silver bars. He hissed and jerked forward as the metal made contact with his skin, lightly burning his exposed skin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the menacing shadow spit at him.

The man stepped out from the shadows and the dim prison lights illuminated his face. He had silted green eyes, sharp cheek bones, and thin pale lips. Newt could cut himself on those cheek bones. Wrapping his arms around himself, Newt shivered under the man's gaze. Peering up from under his lashes, Newt saw a large, tall man. He was even bigger than the guards. He smelled like some kind of reptile shifter.

"I-I killed a man," Newt whispered. The man snorted in derision.

"A little squirt like you? You're still wet behind the ears, pup."

Newt quickly glanced up at man, wondering what the other man was in here for. His tongue darted out in a quick swipe to his lips.

"Did you kill a man, too?"

"No." Newt let out a relieved breath. The man couldn't be so bad then. Before the guards had thrown him in here, they'd been laughing about putting him in here with the "Killer". They had probably just been trying to make him scared.

"I killed a bunch of men."

All of Newt's relief instantly flew out the window, or rather the cell bars at the man's confession. Gulping down a big wad of spit, Newt almost swallowed his tongue.

"Did they deserve it?" Although he'd never condone murder, there were times when it was just inevitable with certain bad men.

"The man you killed, did he deserve it?" the man asked, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. Newt looked up in surprise. This man was the first to ask him that question. When his Alpha had found Newt next to the bleeding body of the pack's beta, he'd been instantly condemned. They hadn't asked about the vicious bruises on Newt's own body, or the bleeding from the many bite marks on his body. The council had quickly decided his fate and before he could say anything in protest, he'd been driven here to the paranormal correctional facility.

"I thought so at the time," Newt mumbled as he maneuvered around big man so that his back was against the cement wall instead of the bars. If the guy planned to attack him, he preferred that his skin wouldn't also be burned. He was already in enough pain for ten people and he didn't need to compound on it.

The man followed him step for step. "And you don't think so now?"

Newt just shrugged, looking at the various stains on the floor. "I got exiled form my pack, my parents won't talk to me, and I'm stuck in here with you for foreseeable future."

"If I was a little more sensitive, I'd think you didn't like me," the man teased with a small smile. Newt glanced up to catch a fleeting sight of the smile and he answered in return.

"My name is Newt," he offered in a soft voice. He reached a tentative hand out to the man, wondering if he would take it. The big man stepped forward until Newt had to arch his neck up at an uncomfortable angle to look up the man. His large, calloused palm griped Newt's and he gasped as a sudden tingle went up from his fingers to spread throughout his body. He jerked up to meet the man's curious amber eyes and bit his lips to suppress yelling out that this man was his mate.

"Name's Graves." Graves quickly pulled his hand away with a bemused frown, looking at his hand. "You're a wolf shifter?"

Newt savored the sound of his mate's name in his head. Graves. It suited him.

Newt nodded. "I'm from the Wind Heights Pack. I was the omega up until, well, you know. I smell reptile on you. Are you an alligator or a lizard or something?" He wanted so badly to know more about his mate. It didn't matter that he'd always pictured his mate as a wolf. After all these years and he finally found him in the last place he'd think to look. Newt hugged himself tighter, the urge to reach out and touch his mate overwhelming him and making his body shake.

"Something like that. Look, I haven't had anyone stay in my cell for all the years I've been here and I like it like that. I'm sure the guards will come back in the morning and take you to another cell."

It was like an arrow to his heart to hear that his mate didn't want him around. Hell, the man didn't even look like he knew that they were mates. Newt knew he couldn't be wrong, the man's scent, his touch-it all called to his wolf. If he'd been in his wolf form, he'd be wagging his tail with his tongue lolling out.

Offering a trembling smile, Newt offered Graves's own words back to him. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me."

Graves cocked a brow at him and he blushed, ducking his head down. The man's wry laughter filled the cell.

"You're a shy little thing, aren't you?"

Newt nodded. His Alpha had always harped on his lack of social skills, always pushing him into situations that made him uncomfortable. His family had been of the same mind. Newt wondered if his shyness would be unattractive to his mate.

"You wouldn't even make a good midnight snack for me, little wolf."

"You don't know that," Newt retorted, absurdly insulted.

Graves smirked. "It sounds like you actually want to stay with me."

Newt pouted. "And if I want to?"

Graves blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. For a moment, he looked at a loss for words. The little wolf was certainly turning out to be a surprise.

"Trust me, pup, you don't. If you knew all the things I've done, you'd be clawing at those silver bars there trying to get out."

Newt opened his mouth to protest, wanting the man to understand that he couldn't. He didn't understand why Graves didn't know they were mates, but he was sure time together would make the reptile realize they were fated for each other. But before anything could come out of his mouth, a guard's yell interrupted them.

"Lights out! Get to bed, you sick fucks."

All the lights systematically shut off, until all Newt could see was the glowing amber of Graves's eyes. Many of the other inmates growled and yelled obscenities as the guards banged on a few cell doors, trying to get them to go to bed. A low buzzing started and the silver bars began vibrating.

"A witch's spell. Touch the bars and they'll slice your fingers off," Graves answered Newt's unspoken question.

"D-did you cut your fingers on one of them?" Newt's heart ached at even the thought of anything hurting his mate. He might have just met this man a few minutes ago but he already felt the mating pull. His skin itched with the need to be touched by his mate, his wolf clawing at his human skin to be let out.

"I once pushed an inmate's face in them," Graves stated, his amber eyes flashing.

Newt nodded, not wanting to know anymore. He couldn't imagine under what circumstances Graves would want to main a man like that, but he just couldn't imagine his man as a bad mate. He didn't think fate would pair him with a man that was a senseless killer. So far, Graves seemed like a man who kept to himself nothing screamed out sadistic in the man's behavior.

"Um, I'd like to go to sleep now." It had been a long day, but Newt also needed time to think. Maybe it was the mating pull that made him want to believe Graves was a better man than what he actually was.

"There's only one bed. Take the floor."

Newt slowly slid to the floor, Graves's harsh tone sapping away the rest of Newt's energy. He'd been attacked, kicked out of pack, thrown in prison, met a mate that didn't even know they were mates let alone want him and he just had enough. It was more than what one omega could take in day and now he just wanted to loose himself in the oblivion of sleep. He'd rather be snuggled up in his mate's arms taking comfort in his strength, but Newt doubted Graves was the cuddling type. Hell, the man could be straight and Newt wouldn't be surprised. The way his day was going, he half suspected fate would try to screw him like that. Maybe that was why Graves didn't want to acknowledge that they were mates.

Curling up in small ball to ward off the chill, he burrowed his head in his arms. The floor was sticky and smelled distinctly of vomit and blood. Newt couldn't be bothered to care, not now. The floor was hard on his bruised body, the healing bite wounds still raw. The beta had really done a number on him after getting him alone and cornered off from the pack. When Newt had refused to do what the man demanded, the stronger wolf had attacked Newt. He could still feel the razor sharp teeth ripping through his tender flesh. The beta's jaws had bitten down on his neck, holding his down while his claws hands had raked down his back and …

Newt whimpered at the dark memory, willing himself to forget. His heart rate had gone up and his upper lip and forehead was sweaty. He wanted to splash some water on his face, but he was too afraid to get up least he disturb his mate's sleep. The man didn't snore, but Newt could tell he was sleeping by the man's even breathing.

He must have dozed off for a few hours but when he woke up, all he could see was an impregnable black. He could barely see his hands that were just a few inched form his face.

Without warning, he felt rough hands grab at his body. Screaming out, Newt thrashed against the hold. He was reliving all those angry, frantic moments when he'd struggled for his life. The taste of blood filling his mouth, his own sweat mixing in with his tears, the bruising grip on his thighs…it came back rushing to him. But this time the beta wolf was too strong; he was going to finally take Newt. He was shoved onto a mattress face down, his yells muffled by the pillow. Sobbing, Newt got onto his knees but the beta's hands pulled him back and flipped him over. Vowing to make this as hard on the beta as possible, Newt clawed at his attacker's face with his shifted claws. Blood splattered down on his face but he didn't care.

A sudden, sharp slap to his face snapped him out of his nightmare as he realized that the beta couldn't be attacking him. He was dead. Newt had killed him himself. His breathing was hard and shallow as he tried to find his bearings.

"What the hell was that, little wolf?" Graves's hot breath hit Newt's face. He looked up into those amber eyes and shook his head, whimpering.

The man seemed to understand that he couldn't talk about it now, so he let it go. Newt felt the man tuck himself behind his smaller body and pull a blanket over them. A single tear slid down Newt's face as he felt his mate's body slowly warm his own. He clasped his shaking hands over his mate's wrists and locked them around his body.

"Please don't let me go," Newt pleaded, feeling safe for the first time in years in the cage of his mate's embrace.

Graves cleared his throat uncomfortably, but tightened his arms around the smaller man.

"You were thrashing around on the floor, yelling out for help. You looked cold," Graves grumbled. Newt snuggled farther into the reptile's hold, not caring that he was probably pushing his boundaries. He needed to be held by his mate. The reptile's clean and sharp scent was intoxicating, and he inhaled deep. This might be the only opportunity to be this close to this man and Newt fully intended on taking advantage of that.

"I'm okay now," Newt sighed, feeling the man's heartbeat thump against his back and though his body. It was slowly lulling him back to sleep. For the rest of the night, his mind was blissfully devoid of any dreams.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Graves had learned from early on to sleep with one eye open, especially if he was in prison. In his two hundred and thirty eight years, he'd been imprisoned five times now and he knew the drill. So when he woke up from a deep sleep to find he was nuzzling into chocolate brown curls, his immediate reaction was to grab the man's throat and throw him off. But just as his fingers curled into a crushing grip on the man's throat, he whimpered and tried to duck down under Graves's armpit. Realizing he presented a greater threat to the curly haired man than the man did to him, he slowly released the skin and watched as a blood red handprint appeared on his pale throat.

Feeling just a little bit guilty, a first for him, he rubbed a thumb over the mark, awed that he hadn't yet woken the little wolf. Sadistic bastard that he was, he liked looking at his hand print on the man's neck. He ran his tongue over his abnormally elongated fangs, longer than even a normal paranormal's should be. Being the kind of reptiles that he was, his fangs were extra sensitive. He grunted when the wolf squirmed in his arm, rubbing his face against one of his pectoral muscles.

Graves tried to untangle himself from the mess of limbs but the wolf was surprisingly strong, his legs and arms twined around his body like a vise. He felt a familiar bulge against his thigh, not unlike his own. The wolf's hand was dangerously close to his own hard cock, the fucking moron more than ready for Graves to flip the clingy wolf over on his stomach and shove into his tight ass. Disregarding every warning signal from his brain, his other hand smoothed down the wolf's back to grab at the man's ass. He bit back a hiss when he felt the firm globes fit perfectly within his palm, almost begging to be slapped.

Fuck, he was screwed.

Having had more than his fair share of ass, both female and male, Graves had no compunctions about indiscriminate sex; but something about this particular wolf had him on edge. The moment he'd smelled the man's scent coming down the lone corridor towards his cell, his cock had been doing a happy dance behind his pants. When's he'd been shoved into the cell, Graves had both wanted to growl at the guards for daring to touch the man but he'd also wanted to thank them for handing him such an appealing little twink. He was in fucking prison, not a fuck service. It would be beyond moronic to get involved with some jail bait like him, who looked like he hadn't even hit fifty yet, the usual age of maturity for paranormals.

"Wake up inmates!"

The guard's shout was immediately followed by glare of lights from the florescent tubes on the hallway ceilings. Not wanting any of the guards to see them both entwined like lovers, Graves quickly shoved off the bed and got up off the bed. Newt moaned in protest at the sudden lack of warmth and curled into himself. Shaking his head at the defenseless wolf, Graves wondered how's he's make it in the world so far. As beautiful as the shifter was, had he been thrown in any other cell he'd be waking up screaming a cock already shoved in his ass. The pup needed to be taught that he couldn't just curl up against an inmate like that and fall asleep without worry.

The cold water from the sink served to shock the last of the sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth in quick strokes, he did his business and shook himself off before washing his hands. When he looked back at the bed, Newt had turned on his stomach and the waistband of his pants had ridden down until Graves had a great view of the two, adorable little dimple over the man's ass. Those tiny little indents were the perfect place for Graves to press his thumb into as he held onto he smaller man's waist and thrust his dick into his ass. Graves let out a growl when he felt his cock hardening again at the thought. Walking over close to the bed, he flicked his still wet fingers towards the man's face.

Newt squeaked and his eyes popped open as the small drops of cold water hit his face. He looked up fearfully at the man scowling down at him and pulled the covers up to his chin in a futile attempt to protect himself. Newt highly doubted some scratchy wool would be sufficient protection against the hulking behemoth.

"Get up."

Newt nodded and scrambled from the bed, his legs getting tangled even further in the blankets. With an impatient snort, Graves jerked the covers from Newt's body. But that sudden move made Newt fly from the bed to fall to the floor in an inelegant heap. Graves sighed loudly in exasperation and Newt quickly clambered to feet.

Graves nodded towards the sink, but Newt stood mesmerized by his mate. This morning, without the confusion and heartache of being thrown from his pack to this miserable place, Newt was able to fully appreciate his handsome mate, well, he thought Graves looked handsome. His face was all harsh angles, with a blade nose and broad, sharp cheeks. Thin lips were pressed tightly in a frown, but they were unbelievably pink and looked so very soft and pink. Newt had an almost unmanaged urge to lick at those lips for hours, until Graves might deign to open his mouth and allow Newt entrance.

"Newt!" Graves snapped. Newt jerked his eyes to meet the man's gaze and flushed in guilt. "Go wash."

"Yes, sir." Newt quickly turned his back on the man and went to do his business. He heard a low groan from the man, as if he was being tortured but he was too scared to ask. This morning, Graves was acting aloof, and seemed nothing like the man who had carried him to bed and warmed him through the night. It was a little embarrassing to go on the toilet, especially knowing his mate was watching and listening so Newt screwed his eyes shut, shoved his pants to his knees and quickly did his business. But the time he'd washed his hands, all the blood in his body had taken up permanent residence on his face.

Taking a deep, he slowly turned around but couldn't lift his gaze above Graves's knees. With his hands clasped in front of him, he waited. For what, he didn't know.

"Um, what do we do now?" Newt asked when he had stood there for more than five minutes watching Graves stretch his limbs out without either of them talking.

"Nothing. That's the point," Graves sneered. "We go get food at two, rec time until four. Then more nothing. Were you expecting some sort of resort here?"

"Oh. Right," Newt looked around the small cell uncomfortably, then went to sit on the bed. He watched as Graves dropped himself to the floor and completed a series of curls and sit ups. The man's large muscles bunched under his skin, sweat starting to roll down his chest. The musky smell alone was heating up Newt's body, his wolf wagging its tail in anticipation. This was going to a long day in a series of long months and years.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Graves watched as Newt choked down the tough meat, dark blood tickling down his chin is messy rivulets. The prison didn't even bother to cook the food they served. Their everyday menu consisted of raw meat, withered vegetables, and fruit. Graves had already swallowed down his portion, which had been considerably bigger than Newt's. Since they weren't given any utensils, Newt had to use to his hands. He ripped off dainty little bits and chewed the small pieces with great determination. He'd already picked off the few bits of veggies and fruit on his plate. Graves had kindly given Newt his share of veggies and fruit when he'd felt the were's longing gaze on the dried greens.

"You eat like a girl," Graves remarked.

Newt looked away from his breakfast and give him a small, cute glare. Groaning inwardly at his inane thoughts, he vowed to himself that nothing else the were did would be called cute.

"Just because I choose not to grab it up and shove more than half of it down my throat like a shifted were does not make me girly," he sniffed, taking an even daintier bite this time.

Graves snorted. "I didn't say you were a girl, just said you ate like one." When Newt didn't comment, Graves smirked. "Wonder what else you do like a girl."

Newt pursed his lips, the two plump morsels stained a deep red. And goddammit it if it wasn't cute, too. "I-This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," he said with a gesture to the scarps of meat in his hand, his transparent attempts at diverting the conversation bringing a grin to Graves's face. But since the red of Newt's blush was about to overtake the intensity of the blood around his mouth, Graves decided to let it slide.

"What kind of shit food did they feed you in your pack?" Graves growled incredulously. The meat they were given were only days from going bad, sometimes it was over a reasonable date. The only reason he got the meat that hadn't yet gone rotten was because of the reputation he'd purposefully made for himself when he first got here nine years ago.

Newt popped off the last morsel of red meat then proceeded to lick off the lingering blood staining his fingers. Graves was hard-pressed to repress a torturous groan as Newt's pink little tongue lapped up the liquid like it was ambrosia. But just because Graves couldn't groan like an adolescent boy finding his first stash of porn didn't mean Newt couldn't. The sounds coming out of the little wolf as he enjoyed his meal should be illegal; at least they should be in a prison full of paranormal that pounced on anything that was weaker than them. And Newt was defiantly on the lowest rung of the totem pole.

With a content sigh, Newt shifted back on the bed until his back rested against the cool walls. He cupped his hands over his slightly protruding belly and looked sheepishly across at the reptile resting on a steel chair besides the bed.

"I ate what the alpha and the pack gave me. Usually it was after everyone else had finished eating, even the young ones. Whatever was left I was given. Sometimes it was a feast and sometimes…well sometimes it was nothing at all." The scowl on Graves's face darkened with each of Newt's nonchalant words. "But-but that was only during the winter seasons when prey was slim," Newt hurried to reassure. Inside, however, his wolf was secretly pleased that Graves was so upset at his treatment. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary or cruel; that was how all packs worked.

Graves shoved away from his chair and went to the sink to wash his hands. Normally he would have licked them off like Newt had done but he'd suddenly lost all appetite. "No fucking wonder. You should be glad to be rid of them," he muttered.

Since Graves's back was to Newt, he missed the small smile that graced the wolf's adorable face. "Maybe," the wolf whispered mostly to himself but Graves heard nonetheless. Graves glanced back at the wolf but Newt merely blinked innocently at him.

"So what do we do for the rest of the day?" Newt asked once Graves was sitting in front of him again. He sat with his legs folded under him and his hands clasped in his lap.

Tipping his chair back and balancing on two legs, Graves scowled at the wolf. "Not we. I. and I just sit here with my thoughts."

"Oh."

The single syllable shouldn't have sounded so devastating but it did. Graves growled at the need to offer some type of activity to occupy Newt; he wasn't a goddamn dog to entertain the man. He knew what kind of activity he'd like to do with Newt but he had a feeling that the man would give him more than a few scratches if he tried anything. His fingers unconsciously went to his face were the scratch marks had been but felt only rough, stubbled skin. But after a measly four minutes of berating himself for being so weak, Graves felt his resolve shatter when he saw Newt had hugged a pillow to his chest and was sniffing it discreetly. It was Graves's pillow.

"We could, ah, play a game?" Graves suggested lamely. He wanted to take back the words even before he'd uttered them. But Newt's shining and hopeful eyes dissuaded him.

"Really? What game do you want to play? I don't suppose we can get cards in here do you?" Newt asked excitedly, not unlike a puppy.

He shrugged. "I can get you cards." Hell, he could threaten anything out of the guards.

"Oh, yes please!" Newt nodded his head. Graves was sure that if Newt had had a tail in this form, it would be wagging madly. "But for now, maybe we can play twenty questions?"

"Maybe not," Graves was quick to shoot down that stupid idea.

Ignoring him, Newt went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Okay, I'll go first. How old are you?"

"Older than you," he grunted out. Newt pouted at the vague answer, his lower lip sticking out.

"Oh, you can do better than that. If you answer nicely, I'll tell you anything you want to know about me." Newt offered hopefully.

Rolling his eyes, Graves folded his arms in front of his chest. "There's nothing I want to know about you."

Ignoring him again, Newt began to count on his fingers useless information that he thought Graves would want to know about him. "You can ask me my age, what colors I like, what foods I like, what books I like, what I like to do in my wolf form, how I-"

"Why did you kill a man?"

Lime green eyes widened and jerked to Graves's eyes, meeting his forest green ones in panic. Newt shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes as he hugged the pillow closer to his body. "I-I can't. It, it was a-a horrible, terrible mistake. I don't want to play anymore," he stuttered out almost frantically.

Berating himself for pushing too hard too fast, Graves slowly got up and held out his hands placatingly. Newt flinched at his movements and Graves slowed down himself down even further. He approached the bed with caution and sat in front of Newt who looked like he was trying to plaster himself flat against the wall.

"Two hundred and thirty eight."

"What?" Watery eyes blinked at him in confusion. He repeated the answer with a small quirk of his lips. "Really, that's pretty old." Newt giggled when Graves hissed in annoyance. "I'm not saying you're old, just that that age is old," he said with a cheeky grin.

Graves cuffed the wolf gently on the side of his head. "I see you're learning from me. Knew I'd be a good influence on you sooner or later."

"I don't think good is the right word. Bad maybe? Yes, that sounds about right." Newt yelped with Graves pinched his ear lobe, but his rough fingers quickly soothed the small hurt. Graves didn't take his hand away as he continued to massage the soft lobe of flesh. Newt leaned into the warm touch. The reptile didn't generate much heat but his touch was comforting nonetheless.

"Aren't you going o ask me how old I am?" Newt broke the silence after five minutes of staring at each other.

Without breaking his stare, Graves asked him "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

Frowning, Graves pulled his hand away, albeit reluctantly. Newt's chin jerked, as if trying to keep the contact but he blushed and tucked in his chin to his collarbones when Graves pulled away to put more space between them. "Fuck you are jail bait, little wolf."

"I am not," Newt huffed up indignantly. "In case you've been stuck here since the stone ages, eighteen is the age of maturity."

He snorted. "In the human world, maybe. On our world, your barely a baby," he sneered out the worlds cruelly. It wasn't an attack on Newt; it was more for a reminder of why he should not be lusting after this omega.

"Werewolves younger than me are having babies, so no I am not a baby." With an affronted sniff, Newt turned up his nose and folded his arms defensively in front of him.

Without meaning to, Graves watched fascinated as his arm reached up once again towards Newt's face. The smaller man sat complete still, the only movements of his chest expanding and retracting disrupting the quiet moment. Graves cupped his hand around Newt's soft cheek. His thumb swiped across Newt's dry and cracked lips, relishing in the soft give of flesh under his calloused thumb. A pink tongue darted out to wet those dry lips and they unintentionally touched on Graves's salty finger. It lingered for just a moment before darting back into the cavern of Newt's mouth to savor the taste behind closed lips.

"Inmates, time to clear out of the cages!" the grating guard's voiced boomed into the small cell. It broke the private moment the two weres were sharing.

Graves let his fingers trail down Newt's face as he pulled away, the other were still unmoving until Graves managed to drag himself off the bed and a few feet across the cell for good measure. Newt physically hook his head to clear his hazy thoughts. He avoided looking at Graves but his attention was soon diverted when an unknown guard came and unlocked their cell.

"Come, follow close behind me," Graves grunted. He held out a hand for Newt to take. Both ignored the awestruck look on the guards' face, who had never seen Graves so much as talk to another inmate let alone offer a hand. Allowing himself a small, victorious smile Newt clasped Graves's hand with both of his and pressed himself as close to Graves as possible with two sets of clothing separating them.

They exited the cell as one and got in line behind the other waiting inmates. Both ignored the stares and glares coming from the guards and inmates, who were just as awestruck by Graves's unprecedented affections towards an insignificant werewolf. Still they kept at least a few feet between odd couple and themselves, not wanting to risk Graves's wrath.