“Okay…Emory’s lion? We haven’t met yet, but I’ve felt you reaching out to me before. I felt your energy when we were in bed on New Year’s Eve, and sometimes, when Emory and I hug and kiss, I can feel you then, too. I’m starting to really like you and Emory, and my octopus is as well. I’m so excited to continue our relationship and to one day get to meet you face-to-face, but right now, I’m really worried about Emory. He’s tired and so clearly working himself into the ground, and ruts are hard, especially for the alpha. I want to be here for him and here for you, but that means we can’t mate tonight. Do you understand? We still have more to explore in our relationship. Tonight is going to be a huge step in that, but it can’t happen if Emory is worried you’re going to disobey him and try to bite me. Can you promise both of us you won’t do that?”
Emory was silent for so long, Cameron was a bit worried he had walked away from the door. Talking to a person’s inner beast wasn’t particularlynormal. His parents had done it as a last resort when he was a child, and he spent more time as an octopus than a little boy. The therapists believed it was a trauma response, for his octopus to take over and ignore his younghuman brain. They encouraged his parents not to wait until Cameron was shifted to negotiate with his little cephalopod. Instead, his parents tried to address him and his octopus separately until, gradually, his octopus’ defense mechanisms lowered, and he began listening to Cameron.
Sometimes, during heats and ruts, a shifter's inner beast would lose all rhyme and reason, and they needed to be negotiated with—or at least that had always been Cameron’s experience. Perhaps it was why his heats and ruts with Thomas had always gone smoothly. He’d made sure to communicate with both Thomas the asshole human and his inner possum, who just wanted to follow his instincts during rut and heat.
“I think my lion is in agreement. He doesn’t want to mate you against your will—I mean, neither of us do. It's just… I haven’t been in rut with someone else for a very long time, and I’ve obviously never done it with a fated mate.”
Cameron bounced up onto the balls of his feet. His octopus, who had been following Cameron’s lead up until this point, sent out a burst of energy. He felt the moment it connected with Emory, because a sense of contentment enveloped him—followed immediately by an almost violent lust.
“Oh gods, Emory?—”
“Go wait for me in the bedroom,” Emory growled. His tone had dropped to something solid and commanding. It was more like the man Cameron had met at the airport, outwardly controlled even if he was uncertain underneath. “I’m going to take a few minutes to center myself—and my lion. I’ll be with you shortly.”
“You…you promise?”
“I promise. I will never lie to you, Cameron. That is also a promise.”
“Okay,” Cameron said with the same conviction he heard in Emory’s voice.
Thank the gods he’d been to Emory’s house before, because in his frantic dash for the bedroom, he might not have picked the right one if he hadn't already known where to go.
He threw himself onto the king-sized mattress, and before he could reconsider, he ripped off his hoodie and socks. Emory hadn’t told him how he wanted him to wait, fully clothed or naked, and in what sort of position. In his moment of hesitation, his octopus took over. He crawled backward and forwards across the bed a few times, his octopus prancing along with him, going up on two tentacles and then back onto all eight.
Finally, his octopus stilled, causing Cameron to settle down, slightly off-center in the middle of the bed. He leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs for his alpha.
He’d never done this for Thomas. He’d always been reluctant but willing to help Thomas through his ruts, and his heats were more a necessity than anything else. Right now, he was actually a little excited. He’d liked sex a lot before Thomas wrecked his confidence. Since then, he’d slowly rebuilt himself, and tonight would put that to the test. He wanted to make Emory feel good. He wanted to learn if Emory preferred a lighter or harder grip, if he liked scratches or love bites, and if he was going to like Cameron’s tentacles or?—
Cameron sat up a little straighter. He hadn’t shifted in front of anyone other than family in years. Not even a partial shift. His octopus had clearly put that thought in his head, but…was he ready for that?
He didn’t get the chance to ponder it any further because one moment, the doorway was empty, and the next, Emory was standing in it, completely naked. His lion claws were extended, and he dug them into the doorframe. Cameron watched in awe as flakes of paint and wood fell to the ground.
“Emory…”
“You really aren’t afraid of me? Of this?” Emory grit out, his eyes drinking in Cameron’s almost naked body.
Cameron shook his head firmly.
“Gods, you really must not be. To splay yourself across my bed…wearing just those gorgeous panties and…nothing else…”
A growl ripped itself from Emory's chest, and he reached out and sank his other claws into the opposite side of the doorframe.
“I—” Cameron tried to stammer out, but Emory growled again.
“You…are perfect. Our perfect fated mate. But we want to keep you that way, so I need you to prep yourself for me, honey. Get yourself really wet because when I let go of this doorframe, I’m going to pounce on you, and I might not let you up again.”
Cameron gulped, and his octopus quivered in pure elation. Emory's eyes were flashing between amber and brown. Every time he said ‘our’ and ‘we,’ it was clear he was speaking with his lion. It seemed the truce Cameron had garnered was holding steady, and both Emory and his lion were on board to spend their rut with Cameron, sans-mating.
Emory let out a plaintive whine as Cameron sat frozen in place.
“I’m not sure if you know this about water shifters, but we producea lotof slick,” Cameron said, instinctively spreading his legs a little wider. “I’m already dripping wet.”
Emory tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I can smell it. You smell amazing…but are you prepped? I’m quite large, honey.”
Cameron wanted to say he didn’t need prep, but realistically, if they were going to be fucking for hours, he probably should at least take a few fingers. He leaned onto one arm so he could bring a hand between his legs. He slid in one, then two fingers, and after a few sloppy thrusts and quick scissoring, he slid in a third. Emory watched with rapt attention, more pieces ofwood falling off the door frame as the muscles in his forearms quivered.
Cameron took a moment, while forcing in a fourth finger, to really look at his fated mate. He filled out a business shirt nicely, and Cameron had felt his toned arms and pecs when they hugged. He didn’t have washboard abs, but his core appeared strong and well-muscled under a soft-looking layer of fat. His obliques were stark, cutting down his hips and drawing a perfect line to a golden-brown patch of hair. Cameron wanted to trace his happy trail with his fingers…and maybe his tongue.
“Cameron…if you don’t want those panties destroyed, I’m going to need you to finish up and take them off. I’m not sure my door frame is going to last much longer,” Emory said, strain evident in his voice and the tight cords of his neck. “Do we need a condom? I’ve been tested, I’m negative for everything, and?—”
