“Ilikeyou, you utter clodpate. As in, against my better judgement and the tattered remnants of my sanity, I actually want to spend time with you.” Still held securely in Gethin’s broad arms, he slapped the shifter’s biceps. “Now fuck me, you fool, and make me feel it.”
“Clodpate?” But the vaguest twitch of Gethin’s kiss-ravaged lips told Sorley that his message was getting through.
He scoffed. “Don’t get judgey with me over my language choices. I’m three hundred years old. Gimme a break, daffodil boy and get your cock out.”
“We don’t have any lube.” Gethin hastily lowered Sorley to the ground and wrenched at his fly.
“Don’t care. I want it to hurt. I’ll heal within minutes. An hour if you really pound me.” Sorley shoved his trousers and boxers to his ankles and draped himself arse-upwards over a nearby pile of stones. “I can’t wait, Gethin, I need you.”
His vision blurred as the shifter pushed into him. The burn was exquisitely painful, bordering on too much. Gethin rocked in and out, sinking deeper with each tentative jab, until he groaned as he bottomed out. “Holy fuck, you feel so good.”
“I’ll feel even better if you move,” Sorley sniped, desire making him cranky. His cock was so hard, it ached. It was leaking copiously. He grasped it with the hand not holding himself steady on the rocks and whined. “Oh Goddd….”
Gethin took him apart, driving into him as if possessed by the Devil himself. Every thrust made him wail out loud, his nerve endings singing an aria of joyous pain until Sorley choked on his own saliva and came in a violent, reality-stealing rush that jellified his limbs and left his mind reeling. He had just enough capacity left to be aware of Gethin gasping against his neck as his own climax poured out of him moments later.
Slumped under the full weight of an orgasm-addled shifter, with his torso being grated against the unforgiving rocks, Sorley wondered if he’d ever felt happier.
Eventually, they parted, Sorley with a wince and Gethin with mumbled apologies for hurting him. As they had no means of cleaning up, by mutual silent agreement they began the sticky walk back across the sands and the climb up the hill to Sorley’s house. Once inside, Gethin’s body language stiffened as if he expected to be dismissed to the second floor. Sorley grabbed Gethin’s wrist, then palmed his face to bring the wolf’s gaze down to his level.
“Shower with me?”
Agonising seconds passed. Then Gethin jerked his chin. “All right.”
* * *
Lyingunder the duvet in Sorley’s bed, Gethin looked bemused. “What am I doing here?”
“I thought you might be up for round two,” Sorley purred. Now he’d begun to wrap his head around the concept of finding Gethin agreeable company, it seemed his body was eager to take every advantage. But the shifter frowned.
“No, I mean what’s the deal? We’re just blowing off steam, yeah? Two horny guys who’ve been thrown together and are making the most of the situation, right? I just want to be clear in my head.”
Sorley blinked at him, feeling he was missing a vital point but unable to see where he’d gone off track. He certainly wasn’t about to make a tit of himself by fawning over Gethin if the wolf didn’t want anything more than some quality fucking. He nodded briskly.
“What else would it be? You get my perky twenty-eight year old arse on repeat, and I don’t have to worry about random psychos trying to short circuit my nervous system with anonymous hook-ups.”
The shifter cracked a sudden blinding smile, then chuckled and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. “You’re twenty-eight? Lord, I’m such a dirty old man.”
Sorley raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh aye? Tell me more. And yes, technically I’m twenty-eight, although vampire, few hundred years, life experience blah blah…”
Gethin cleared his throat. “My current IDs all say I’m forty-four.”
“Respectable, but surprising, seeing as you definitely don’t look that old. Oh but…Oh!You have a grown-up kid, don’t you? You were either a teenage dad or you’re actually older. Go on, hit me. How ancient and wrinkly are you?”
“Cheeky sod, I’m not wrinkly in the slightest.”
Sorley couldn’t disagree. The man was head to toe toned, firm muscle and taut skin, and barely looked forty. “Okay, I’ll allow you that one. I know shifters don’t age like humans, but I am really interested.”
“I have three adult kids. Two sons and a daughter.”
“You’re stalling.”
Gethin rolled again, this time towards the window, and mumbled into the pillow. “Sixty-two.”
It took a second, but when it hit him, giggles erupted out of Sorley like champagne from a shaken bottle. “Oh that’s priceless,” he gasped between bursts of laughter. “You’re adaddy. And I don’t mean a father.” He rolled too, chasing Gethin across the supersized mattress with a filthy chuckle. “Are you going to spank me and make me drink my blood from a sippy cup?”
“No way.” Gethin’s shudder was telling. “No shade if that’s your thing, but I can’t imagine anything worse. Bad enough I have to think for myself and my pack, let alone anyone else, especially another adult. A well-placed flick on your bare arse with the corner of a towel is one thing, but otherwise...”
“Touché. It’s not my thing either.” He felt more giggles surfacing. “Sixty-two though…Are you even up for another round or should I let your ancient self rest?”
