Patrick wanted a lot of things he never got, but he’d take tonight because he could.
He shoved his hand down Jono’s pants and squeezed that thick, heavy cock, licking his lips. “Can you hear my heartbeat?”
“Like a bloody drum,” Jono growled as he lifted his head, pushing into Patrick’s touch.
Patrick turned his head, staring into Jono’s eyes. “I want this.”
The truth in his words was one Patrick didn’t mind giving up.
With a groan, Jono pulled his hand off Patrick’s cock and grabbed him by the ass, hauling Patrick into his arms. He wrapped his legs around Jono’s waist, dropping a hand between their bodies to pull Jono’s cock free of his underwear. Jono wasbig, and the thought of getting fucked by him made Patrick’s mouth water even though he knew he wouldn’t get that tonight.
This, right here, was a one-off of mutual using.
Jono lined their cocks up together and started to stroke them off. The first drag of those warm, tight fingers made Patrick groan. He canted his hips up into the circle of Jono’s fingers, wanting more. Precum pearled at the tips of their cocks, and Patrick reached down to spread it around with his thumb. Their fingers tangled together, getting a little slicker, but the dry friction was almost too much at times.
“Gods,” Patrick moaned on a particularly hard stroke. He dug his heels into the small of Jono’s back, urging him closer. “How long can you hold me up?”
“However long I like.”
Patrick couldn’t help but laugh a little breathlessly, pleasure zinging through his nerves. “Show-off.”
Jono didn’t reply, merely distracted Patrick by kissing him hard and deep, stealing the air from his lungs. Patrick tightened his legs around Jono’s waist, urging him closer, and Jono obliged. Trapped between the cold wall at his back and the heat of Jono’s body, that warm hand which wasn’t his own stroking him off, Patrick wasn’t going to last. Too long spent doing this alone meant the edge was getting closer and closer.
Patrick smacked one hand against the wall above his head, fingernails digging into the paint as he pushed into Jono’s grip. “Faster.”
Jono looked at him with those wolf-bright eyes, strands of hair sticking to his skin. Patrick was pinned in place by desire and Jono, and he gave in to both willingly enough. Jono jacked them both off, their cocks sliding against each other as Patrick writhed in Jono’s arms.
When Patrick came, it was with Jono’s hand on his cock, Jono’s mouth on his, muffling his cry with hard lips. Patrick shuddered as his orgasm rolled through him, body going almost languid for a few seconds, held up by Jono’s easy strength.
“You smell good,” Jono muttered against his mouth.
And that, Patrick knew, was a lie. He didn’t need preternatural senses to know that.
“Bet I’d smell better with your cum on me,” Patrick muttered, not ready yet to lose the rapidly diminishing afterglow. He knew that was a thing with werecreatures—scent and scent-marking in all its varied forms.
Jono nipped at his bottom lip. “Let’s find out.”
Jono used Patrick’s cum to slick up his own cock. Patrick could feel the motion of Jono’s hand against his body as he worked himself over before coming with a groan, face tucked against the curve of Patrick’s throat, the scent of sex thick between them.
Jono lifted his head, and Patrick watched as he raised his cum-covered hand to his mouth, licking the mingled taste of both of them off his thumb. Patrick’s cock gave a valiant twitch at the sight, and while he would be up for another round under any other circumstances, he’d given Jono what the other man wanted.
A way to keep track of Patrick whenever his shields were down.
Which would be never.
“Put me down,” Patrick said, unwrapping his legs from Jono’s waist.
Jono kept his hands on Patrick’s ass until he got his feet on the floor. Patrick wiped his hand on his T-shirt before grabbing at his jeans, hauling them back over his hips. He didn’t bother tucking his cock back inside his underwear.
“You wanted my scent, you got it,” Patrick said, sliding away from Jono. “I’m going to bed. There are extra blankets in the hall closet.”
Jono said nothing as Patrick left him behind in favor of going to the bathroom to wipe himself clean. Still holding his jeans up, Patrick crossed the hallway to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He pressed his forehead against the cool wood, sighing quietly.
That was probably one of his shittier decisions, having sex with someone the gods threw in his path. Still, getting off in Jono’s arms had been the only good thing to happen to him today, as fleeting as it was.
“Focus on the case,” Patrick muttered under his breath.
Because the murders needed his attention more than the hot as fuck werewolf sleeping on his couch.
