They don't want to be quiet. They don't want to be here, naked and pressed into the grass, wrists pinned above their head by one werewolf while another helps himself to their neck the way a lover would. Kurt is too frightened to notice how the younger wolves fret and worry, exchanging distraught glances, looking to their alpha. They seem genuinely concerned for the human's safety and comfort. Yes, they get rowdy, they play hard, but if they really are to keep the little one, they must want to be kept. They must desire to stay with the pack.

Wolves don't cause harm the way people do.

Kurt's struggles against Naseer's unmoving grip start waning as their treacherous body warms to the alpha's touch, to his hot mouth against their skin, his wet tongue over their pulse. They have to squeeze their thighs together as they feel the first stirrings of arousal. It's not fair. They don't want this. They don't. But the wolf's careful mouth and gentle hands and low, rumbling voice makes their breath come out heavy and hot, their cheeks going bright red.

"P-Please... My name is K-Kurt, please, please don't hurt me..." The thrill of knowing their name is dampened by their fear. Naseer looks up at his alpha, wordlessly begging him to do something, so ease the poor thing's misery. It's not their fault they fear what's coming, when they—as all humans—were raised on lies.