“You’re so hot,” Ryan said. His voice had gone breathy. “Like unfairly hot. I’m still processing the shifter thing, but mostly I’m just really distracted by your abs.”
Grayson caught Ryan’s hands and pinned them above his head. Ryan’s eyes went wide, his lips parting. The scent that rolled off him shifted, the arousal spiking. His mate liked being held down. Liked giving up control.
“Keep them there,” Grayson said.
Ryan nodded. His fingers twisted in the pillow above his head, knuckles going white with the effort of staying still. Grayson released his wrists and moved lower, pulling Ryan’s shirt up and over his head. The fabric caught on Ryan’s arms for a moment before coming free. Then Ryan was bare from the waist up, his skin flushed and marked with faint freckles across his shoulders.
Grayson’s mouth found Ryan’s collarbone. The taste of his skin made the lion purr with satisfaction. He traced lower, following the line of muscle down Ryan’s sternum. Ryan’s breathing picked up, his stomach tensing under Grayson’s lips.
“You’re taking your time,” Ryan said. His voice wavered. “Not that I’m complaining. Just observing. Very thorough. Very methodical.”
Grayson reached the waistband of Ryan’s jeans and paused. His fingers worked the button open then the zipper. Ryan lifted his hips to help, and Grayson pulled the jeans down his legs. Ryan wasn't wearing anything underneath. His cock lay hard against his stomach, flushed and leaking at the tip.
“I may have forgotten to put my underwear back on earlier,” Ryan said. His face had gone red. “In my defense, I was panicking about hyenas and shifters and the general collapse of reality as I knew it.”
Grayson ran his hand up the inside of Ryan’s thigh. The muscle jumped under his palm. Ryan’s legs fell open wider, making room. The trust in that gesture made something hot and possessive coil in Grayson’s gut. His mate was offering himself, giving Grayson everything.
“Turn over,” Grayson said.
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Oh. We’re doing that. Okay. Yes. That’s happening.”
He rolled onto his stomach, his movements clumsy with arousal. The position exposed the long line of his back, the curve of his ass. Grayson’s hands settled on Ryan’s hips, holding him in place. His mate was small under his palms, fragile in a way that made the lion snarl with protectiveness.
Grayson leaned down and pressed his mouth to the base of Ryan’s back. Ryan made a sound into the pillow, his hands fisting in the sheets. Grayson worked his way up the line of Ryan’s vertebrae, tasting salt and soap and something uniquely Ryan. His mate was trembling, small tremors running through his frame.
“You’re killing me,” Ryan said into the pillow. His voice came out muffled. “This is torture. Good torture. But still torture.”
Grayson’s teeth scraped along Ryan’s shoulder blade. Not hard enough to mark, just enough to make him gasp. His hands moved down Ryan’s sides, mapping the dips and curves. His mate was all lean muscle and soft skin, built for speed rather than strength.
Ryan pushed up onto his hands and knees. The movement was sudden, desperate. He looked back over his shoulder, his hair falling across his forehead. “I need more. Please. I need you.”
Grayson’s hand moved between Ryan’s legs, fingers brushing against his hole. Ryan’s whole body jerked, a broken sound escaping his throat. He was already relaxed there, his body opening under Grayson’s touch.
“When did you do this?” Grayson asked. His voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
“Bathroom. Earlier.” Ryan’s face flushed darker. “While you were downstairs. I thought maybe we'd—and I wanted to be ready—and now I’m explaining this like an idiot so maybe we could move past the talking part?”
Grayson’s finger pressed inside. The heat of Ryan’s body closed around him, tight and perfect. Ryan’s head dropped forward, his back arching. Small sounds escaped him, needy and desperate. Grayson worked him open slowly, adding another finger. Ryan pushed back into the touch, taking him deeper.
“Please,” Ryan said. The word came out broken. “I’m ready. I've been ready. Just please.”
Grayson withdrew his fingers and reached for the nightstand. The drawer held supplies he kept there out of habit. He grabbed the lube and slicked himself, the cool liquid a contrast to the heat building in his gut. His cock ached, hard enough that it hurt. The lion prowled under his skin, demanding he claim his mate, make Ryan understand who he belonged to.
Grayson positioned himself at Ryan’s entrance. The head of his cock pressed against the tight ring of muscle. Ryan’s breathing had gone ragged, his hands fisting in the sheets. Grayson’s fingers dug into Ryan’s hips, holding him steady.
“Breathe,” Grayson said.
Ryan obeyed. Grayson pressed forward, working past the resistance. The heat of Ryan’s body closed around him, tight and perfect. Ryan made a sound low in his throat, something between a moan and a whimper. His body opened slowly, taking Grayson inch by inch.
Grayson bottomed out and held still. Ryan was trembling under him, his breathing uneven. The scent rolling off him was pure arousal mixed with something sweeter. Satisfaction. Completion.
“Move,” Ryan said. His voice came out wrecked. “Please move. I need you to move.”
Grayson pulled back and thrust forward. The movement punched a gasp out of Ryan’s throat. Grayson set a steady rhythm, his hips driving forward. Ryan pushed back to meet him, taking him deeper. The sounds he made went straight to Grayson’s cock and made the lion snarl with possessive satisfaction.
“God,” Ryan breathed. His head hung between his shoulders, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. “You feel so good. So perfect. I can’t—”
Grayson’s hand wrapped around Ryan’s cock. The heat of it burned against his palm. He stroked in time with his thrusts, feeling Ryan fall apart under him. His mate was close already, his body tensing, small sounds escaping between gasps.
