“Like what?” he gasped, but he reached back, making a frustrated noise when he found the towel and ripping it off. His slim hands wrapped around each side and pulled himself open ruthlessly, his hole stretched and pink in the center.
“Like that.” I leaned forward and kissed him, wet and filthy, and he shivered and murmured my name. “Like this.” I licked him and pressed my tongue into him a tiny bit. “Ready for me. Mine.”
“I’m always—oh, gods—” Nate broke off in a wordless wail as I fucked him with my tongue, fangs scraping at the inner curves of his cheeks.
I kept myself braced on the dresser with my clawed hands, and damn it, I’d have so much sanding and refinishing in my future. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the way Nate’s legs shook and his fingers dug into his own flesh hard enough to bruise—I’d kiss every mark later, petting him while my come trickled out of him and he half-dozed in bed, trusting me to watch over him.
His breaths got faster and more ragged, our mate bond pulsing with light and desire and something deeper and darker that called out to my most alpha of instincts, and I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.
One last open-mouthed taste of him, and I surged up, wrapping my arms around him and dragging him away. Damn it, my claws were almost never this stubborn, but this time I couldn’t keep myself together. Blood ran down my arms from where I’d gouged myself, but I carried him across the room and flung him onto the bed unscathed.
He bounced, flailed, yelped, and flipped himself over onto his back, his hard cock pointing right at me and his spit-slick hole exposed under those round, perfect balls of his.
Well, who could resist an invitation like that?
I stalked him for a few seconds, prowling toward the bed and around, savoring how my prey’s chest rose and fell, the bright red flush on his cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his sides.
He knew I’d never hurt him, but his heartbeat picked up as I slowly approached, his hands flexing against the bed as if he’d have liked to pop claws too. I wished I could see myself through his eyes, just once. Not because I thought I’d find myself particularly desirable—I couldn’t possibly be farther from my own type. But fuck, knowing how Nate saw me when his eyes shone like that, when he spread his legs and bit his lips and whimpered? Pretty sure that’d make me feel like some kind of god.
Whatever. Feeling like an alpha werewolf with the hottest mate on the planet came close. I’d take it.
I tried to keep our small cabin organized, but Nate tended to leave things in all kinds of places he insisted would be “more convenient,” like putting bags of candy behind the couch cushions.
And when I reached under the mattress and felt around…yep, a bottle of lube. God forbid it stay in the bedside drawer two feet away.
“See, I told you,” Nate said breathily, eyes wide and fixed on my cock as I knelt up on the bed. “More convenient.”
“Do you also have Pop-Tarts under there?” I asked, not really wanting to know—but thinking about the crumbs and apple cores and sandwich crusts Nate left behind him like some kind of giant rodent annoyed me enough that I could focus on that instead of how it’d feel to be inside him. I retracted my claws at last and popped the top on the bottle.
Nate bit his lip, looked off into the distance, and wrapped his hands around his thighs to hold himself open again, knees pulled back toward his face.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I managed to choke out, and got my revenge for that little bit of manipulation by sliding two of my big fingers into his tight hole at once, no waiting for him to get used to one.
He squirmed around me, moaning, and I thrust inside, twisting my hand, feeling out all the softness of that inner flesh. I knew I wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t betootight, not after how thoroughly I’d turned him inside out last night.
“They’re—oh, fuck—in the wrapper, so it’s not like there’s going to be cru—do that again!”
Note to self, I’d lift the mattress up all the way later on and retrieve any wrapped or unwrapped food he’d stashed under there, probably pulverized by how incredibly hard I was going to fuck him.
Later. Right now, I did that again, and then pulled my fingers out with a satisfying squelch.
I pushed his legs open even wider than he could manage on his own and lined up.
And then I stayed there for a second, mesmerized. I had a really huge cock, and I didn’t need Nate’s perspective to tell me so. Seeing it nudging against his that’ll-never-fit body never got old.
But I knew it would fit.
So I pushed inside him, slow and steady, letting him swallow me up inch by inch by inch and holding him completely still so that he couldn’t do a damn thing but take it.
He took it. And took it. And took a little more, as I ground my hips into him and stuffed that last few millimeters inside him. I let go of one of his legs so I could lift his balls up, push them back, massage them in my palm, and get a better view of his stretched rim.
So full of me. He’d be fuller, with my knot and all my come. A slight bulge to his stomach…
Nate’s hands had flown up to grip onto my upper arms, fingers digging in almost as if he did have claws of his own—probably because I’d started pounding into him, balls already tight and heavy, tension torquing at the base of my spine. His hot, yielding body clenched around me, milking me, and my knot swelled, the base of my cock thickening and my alpha magic surging up like a rogue wave and swamping the mate bond between us. It swept through him, gold and blood-red, washing away anything but his connection to me.
His connection tous, to what we were together: mates, always one, never parted.
Nate wailed, head thrown back, and spurted come all over his beautiful flushed skin.
