A rumbling sound of satisfaction vibrated through him. Without further teasing, he moved lower, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart as he settled between them. The first touch of his tongue against my cock drew a sharp gasp from me, my hands tightening in his hair.
He took his time, exploring with lips and tongue as if we hadn’t done this countless times before, as if each response was a new discovery. When he finally took me fully into his mouth, the wet heat of it had me moaning his name, my hips lifting involuntarily.
His hands on my hips held me still—not painfully, but with enough strength to remind me of his inhuman power. The contrast of that controlled strength with the gentle attention of his mouth was intoxicating.
Just when I thought I might embarrass myself by finishing too quickly, he pulled away, moving back up my body to capture my mouth in a kiss that tasted of desire and something wilder, something uniquely Mason.
“Want you,” he murmured against my lips. “Need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I agreed, reaching between us to wrap my hand around him. “Want that too.”
He groaned at my touch, his hips pushing into my grip. For a moment, he seemed to lose himself in the sensation, his eyes closing and head dropping forward. Then, with visible effort, he pulled back, reaching for the nightstand drawer where we kept the lube.
I watched, aroused and touched by his care, as he warmed the lube between his fingers before reaching between my legs. The first press of his finger against my entrance made me tense slightly, then relax as he circled gently, not pushing in yet.
“Okay?” he asked, always checking, always making sure.
“More than okay,” I assured him, lifting my hips in silent encouragement.
He worked me open slowly, carefully, adding a second finger only when I was pushing back against the first, a third when I was begging for more. By the time he deemed me ready, I was a trembling mess, desperate for him.
“Mason, please,” I gasped as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes. “I’m ready. I need you.”
He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Our eyes met as he began to push forward, the stretch and burn exquisite as he filled me inch by careful inch.
“God, Julian,” he groaned once he was fully seated. “You feel amazing. So tight, so perfect.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “Move,” I commanded, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please, Mason, move.”
He did, establishing a rhythm that started slow and deliberate but gradually increased in intensity as his control began to slip. I could see it happening—the gold of his eyes brightening, his canines lengthening into distinct fangs, his nails sharpening against my skin.
It should have been frightening, this partial transformation. Instead, it was incredibly arousing to know that I affected him so deeply he couldn’t maintain his human form.
“Don’t hold back,” I encouraged, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts. “Let go, Mason. I can take it.”
A growl rumbled from his chest, and his pace increased, each thrust driving deeper, harder. One hand slipped between us to wrap around my cock, stroking in counterpoint to his movements.
I was close, the dual stimulation pushing me rapidly toward the edge. “Mason,” I gasped, “I’m going to—”
“Yes,” he growled, his voice hardly human. “Come for me, Julian. Want to feel you.”
His words, combined with a particularly well-aimed thrust and a twist of his hand, sent me over the edge. My orgasm torethrough me, making me cry out his name as I spilled over his fingers and onto my stomach.
The clench of my body around him pushed Mason toward his own release. His rhythm faltered, becoming more erratic as he chased his pleasure. I watched his face, fascinated as always by the way ecstasy transformed his features, making them both more animal and more beautiful.
“Julian,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward one final time as he came deep inside me.
In that moment of release, his control slipped completely. His nails lengthened into definite claws, digging into the sheets beside my head. His fangs extended fully, visible as he panted through the aftershocks of pleasure. Most strikingly, a ripple seemed to pass over his skin—not a full shift, but as if the wolf within was pushing at the boundaries of his human form.
It happened so quickly that if I hadn’t been watching closely, I might have missed it. But I was watching, and I saw the moment his eyes widened in alarm as he realized what had happened.
Before I could reassure him, I felt a sharp sting on my shoulder—his claw had caught my skin during that momentary loss of control, leaving a shallow scratch that was already beading with blood.
“Julian!” Mason’s voice was panicked as he pulled away, nearly falling off the bed in his haste to put distance between us. “Oh god, I hurt you. I’m so sorry—I lost control—I shouldn’t have—”
“Mason, it’s fine,” I said, sitting up and reaching for him. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse from my neighbor’s cat.”
But Mason was already backing away, horror written across his face as he stared at the thin line of blood on my shoulder. His eyes, still more gold than amber, were wide with panic.
