“Sorry!” Cameron said, interrupting Emory’s spiral. “I probably should have been a bit clearer. I went through a few ruts with him, and shockingly, pretty much the one and only thing he wasn’t shit about was sex, and that included his ruts.”
Emory’s lion let out a very different kind of growl, the ‘do we have to kill him because maybe he was good to our mate—but we’re the only ones who can be good to our mate’ kind.
Which was ridiculous and once again embarrassingly alpha-y, but Emory was beyond himself at this point.
“He was clear about consent in the bedroom,” Cameron clarified. “Outside, he’d say and do a lot of things that weren’t consensual, but in the bedroom, if I said no, we’d stop. And that included during ruts. He was a possum shifter, so he wasn’t incredibly fearsome or intense during his ruts to begin with, but… All that is to say, I have been through ruts before. They are work, just as much as heats are work, but I’m pretty sure if it was me sitting in there, not wanting you to trouble yourself with my heat, you would never tell me you didn’t want to help because it's ‘too much work.’”
Of course he wouldn’t. Emory would love nothing more than to help his fated mate through heat. But that was different. “It would not be a hardship to help you through heat.”
“Just like it won’t be a hardship to help you through rut,” Cameron said. His voice shifted and came even closer to the door as if he were pressing his head against the wood. “Emory, I know our relationship has been progressing slowly, and that’s partially due to me and my hang-ups on relationships, but I’m here now because I want to be. I want to keep exploring our relationship and getting to know you, and sex is an important part of a relationship to figure out.”
Emory had to admit, part of him had been worried that sex was going to be another hard thing between them because he hadn’t been sure what flavor of abusive piece of shit Cameron’s ex had been. In the small snatches of free time Emory had, he’d done some reading on victims of abuse and had been prepared to work through it with Cameron if he so chose. Sex was an important part of relationships to him, but he had been in no rush and only ever wanted to do what Cameron was comfortable with.
Could he truly be comfortable with this?
“I hate to have to ask this, Cameron, but I just want to be sure I understand. Your ex, who was an abusive piece of shit, never…hurt you?”
Cameron let out a sharp noise, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “He hurt me, usually emotionally and mentally, and sometimes, he would grab me or pinch me to get his way, but he never hurt me in bed. That is one type of trauma I don’t have, thank gods. Now, watching all those documentaries on that serial killer who would lure omegas back to his house for sex and then force them to shift and lock them in aquariums? That may have traumatized me a bit.”
Emory’s head was beginning to go fuzzy again as his next wave of rut approached, but he was pretty sure he’d heard his omega correctly. “Aquariums?”
Cameron laughed a little hysterically. “Yeah. I watched a documentary about it a few years back, and it’s one of the many reasons I don’t date. I was very happy to see you didn’t have any aquariums on New Year's.”
The tension in Emory’s spine eased the tiniest bit as he laughed. “No, I definitely do not have any aquariums—nor any inclination to put you or anyone else in one.”
“Then I don’t really think there’s any need for this door between us.”
Emory was grateful for the door between them as he came up onto all fours and began to thrust his hips. An alpha’s base instincts took over when they were in rut, and Emory could feel his thoughts slowing down as his body took over. He looked around frantically, found his discarded toy, and clenched it tightly in his fist.
“Cameron…it’s too late to debate this with you now. I… Why don’t you go and wait…somewhere that’s not on the other side of this thin door where you’ll have to hear me—nghh,” Emory groaned as his hips snapped forward, and he tried to wait a littlebit longer before he began fucking the toy. He couldn’t be quiet during his rut, and he really didn’t think the first time they did anything sex-related, it should be with a door between them.
“I don’t mind listening. I could even talk to you…if you want?”
“Honey, I’d love that, but you don’t have to,” Emory said, unsure where that admission came from. Maybe from his lion, who purred and flexed his claws each time their fated mate spoke.
“I can! I mean, if you want me to, I can do that!” Cameron said, his voice gaining an edge of something—maybe excitement, but also possibly nerves.
Emory didn’t have time to parse it out because his hips began thrusting of their own accord. He felt awkward on all fours with Cameron on the other side of the door, so he crawled forward before turning around, forcing his back against the door, even as his hips continued to thrust uselessly into the air.
“If…that’s what you want to do, Cameron…I can’t hold back much longer. You’re going to hear things if you stay here, one way or another.”
Every muscle in his back tensed, threatening to break him in half if he didn’t do something right now. He groaned pitifully and pressed the still sticky toy down onto his cock.
Pleasure shot from his dick all the way down to his toes and up to the tips of his hair. He rocked his head back against the door so hard he almost missed Cameron’s soft cry of, “Emory!”
Chapter Nine
Cameron
Cameron was telling the truth when he said that Thomas had never physically sexually abused him. What he’d left out was that Thomas had all but shattered Cameron’s confidence in the bedroom. One of his many control tactics over Cameron had been to degrade him, in every aspect of his life, so he felt that his only choice for a happy future was with Thomas. Even though, realistically, Cameron had been anything but happy with him.
Emory, though… Cameron thought maybe they could be happy together. When Emory was struck by a sudden rut, the first thing he did, according to Christopher, was try to protect Cameron. Thomas would have demanded Cameron drop everything to take care of him. Emory had locked himself in his office to avoid risking Cameron’s mental health or their relationship.
He knew he had scars that ran more than skin deep from his parents and Thomas. His lack of confidence in the bedroom was one of those scars, but he would conquer it tonight for Emory.If that meant sitting on the other side of a door while he went through his next round of rut, Cameron would do it.
Besides, Emory’s moans were almost like an aphrodisiac. Cameron pressed his palm against the front of his leggings and let out his own moan, higher in pitch and lower in volume than Emory’s but just as desperate.
“Cameron,” Emory groaned from the other side of the door, and even through the wood, Cameron could hear the distinct sound of flesh slapping on flesh. He closed his eyes and pictured Emory stroking himself, maybe with his hand or some sort of toy. He knew there were toys for rut just like there were for heat, but he’d never used one before. He’d always used his own body to pleasure Thomas. He couldn’t do that through a door, though.
