Keon’s senses jolted at the promise. He kissed from Milo’s jaw to his throat. An inch from the mate-mark, he called on his inner m’weko to extend a nail into a claw and scratched at pale skin. Milo gasped and arched into the contact, fingernails digging into his thigh. As Keon dug deep enough to break the skin and draw a drop of blood, he latched his mouth to the wound to suck greedily.
Moaning low and deep, Milo’s fingers dragged across his skin, leaving a long scratch Keon would wear with pride.
He licked the blood from his lips and pressed his hands to the bed by Milo’s hips. Feet flat against the mattress, bent knees pushing Milo’s cock further inside him, Keon rolled his hips, never breaking the hold of their gaze, as the stretch increased with every deep thrust.
Milo’s mouth dropped open, as he sucked air into his lungs, wrapping an arm around Keon’s neck to grip his hair with biting fingers. He bit his lip as he thrust, adding a new dimension to the sensations climbing his spine.
The moment felt endless. Rocking his hips into every thrust, grip tightening on the sheets as he drew closer, balls tight, cock hard. Keon was afraid to touch his cock in case he came. He wasn’t ready for this to end. The longer it lasted, the more raw and loud the noises that fell from their lips. The more Milo’s dripped with lust, words tumbled from his mouth Keon had never thought to hear.
Keon cried out, orgasm tight in his gut, hand flying to his cock. Beneath him, Milo’s knees shook and he lay back, letting Keon regain control. Grunting loudly, fingers greedily tightening on his ass.
Like a fevered dream as he sucked air into his lungs, practically sobbing cries of need, pain, and desperation, his hand flew furiously. His hips moved, stuttering onto Milo’s cock, into his hand, vision hazing around the edges as he came closer to release. Nothing was real. Everything was real.
Milo shone like a beacon, arching and grunting as he came, filling Keon with come and a mental flood of pleasure. While Keon thought he’d shouted as he came, no discernible word lingered in his memory. All he knew was Milo leaving fingermarks on his thigh and neck, gripping hard through his orgasm. The flash of pain pushed him over the edge. Unable to hold his weight, he nearly flattened Milo.
Keon…Milo gasped in his mind, hands searching, caressing over the marks left in his skin. Not that Keon cared.
Concerned about crushing Milo, he dipped to spend the last of his breath kissing him. He could have died, breathless, heart beating faster, lungs sore, and he would have been happy to go. With Milo by his side, their mate bond secured.
What…?Milo asked breathlessly.
Keon shook his head, struggling to move. Tilting his hips to let Milo’s cock fall from his ass, he hissed at the sharp contrast and the ache left behind. His elbows like jelly, he pushed off Milo and flopped onto the bed, where Milo rolled to his side and nuzzled at his cheek.
Milo rested his forehead against Keon’s, closing his eyes, breathing steadily. Keon’s body responded to the calm and mirrored it. Silently accepting the momentous event that changed their world forever.
Chapter Forty
Keon
MILO CACKLED DELIGHTFULLYwhen Keon swept him off his crutches and against his body, taking his weight. Dancing with Milo had been a pleasant experience, and knowing Milo trusted him to carry his weight, to bear the responsibility of his safety, was a heady truth.
This was different. This was Keon not wanting to let Milo out of his sight, of his hands, for a single second. Planting his feet on Keon’s, crutches in one hand, arm slung over his shoulder, Milo placed his trust into Keon’s hands.
Stealing kisses as they left the house, returning home to oversee the last of the packing, Keon shut the door and kept an arm around Milo’s waist. Each step was a revelation, a reminder of their time together, christening the Pack-House as theirs. Despite what Drew had said about endless hours of fucking and multiple orgasms, it wasn’t Keon’s experience, and he was fine with that. What they’d had was special, uniquely wonderful. The mate bond was permanent, and nothing could rip it apart except death or forced separation.
Milo was his.
He was Milo’s.
Everything was right in the world.
Milo smiled into a kiss, adding the graze of his teeth to an already sweet contact. “You have a visitor,” he whispered, floating on a cloud of happiness and disbelief.
Keon reluctantly supported Milo as he stretched his foot to the ground, lowering his crutches. Gale leaned against the column of the veranda, smoking, posture lazy and patient. Though he smoked far less after Milo came into his life and his stress more than halved, Keon was happy when Gale raised an eyebrow and offered the cigarette. “Thanks.” He accepted it and took a long drag, appreciating the mint of a Vihaan fottaiover the tobacco of Dnara. He’d need to switch to the home-made and healthier option, especially if Milo kept fucking him like a demon.
Milo calmly walked to the swing chair on the veranda, anticipating a long interruption, while Keon leaned against the front door to keep both men in sight. “Nice to see you.”
“It’s time your Beta was mated, don’t you think?” Gale replied, lighting a second cigarette.
Keon couldn’t deny he’d been thinking the same, but Gale’s suggestion had another purpose. “I imagine it is, and Leo would agree.”
Leo had been hankering for their mating from the second he returned to Vihaan. If he’d had his way, he would have walked through the doorway, kissed the sense from Weston, and mated him within the hour, but his Beta was traditional.
“What do you have in mind?”
Gale grinned, always the troublemaker. “It’s high time I made a spectacle of myself. It would need you to be unconventional.”
Milo snorted, eyes crinkled with amusement. “It wouldn’t be Keon if it wasn’t unconventional.”
