“I can’t…,” he panted.
“I can.” While Bing’s legs gripped Walter’s backside, he used his hand to stroke himself. He timed everything together—Walter’s thrusts and his own—so that they were both squeezed at the exact same moment.
The pleasure was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.
“That’s. Amazing,” Walter said. His thrusts came in short, hard pulses along with his breath. Bing mirrored it. How could he not? They were eye to eye, body to body, and now…
Now…
Now!
It was like getting overpowered by waves of light. First the hot rush of a whiteout. Then a sonic boom followed, one he felt rather than heard. Then they came down, their breaths flowing easily, currents in the light, filled with warmth and….
Bing’s breath caught.
Walter.
The light was Walter. Or rather, the base of everything was Walter. The strength, the pleasure, and the warmth. He suffused it all in what seemed like light, but it was actually just him. And that allowed for all the rest. Because in that light was safety.
It was weird how Bing had never understood that before. He felt safe with Walter, who never assumed, never demanded, and always respected. From that place of safety, Bing could allow all sorts of wonderful things to happen.
Ecstasy. Happiness. Love.
While Bing was processing that—while floating on a cloud of sugar-sweet joy—Walter collapsed sideways with an “umph.” Because he still held Bing, they rolled together onto their sides. Chest to chest, face to face, they held each other while their breathing returned to normal.
“Ettr…,” Walter mumbled.
“What?”
He slowly opened his dazed eyes. “Better,” he said. “That was better than any of my fantasies. Ever.”
Bing arched his brows. “Are you sure? You have a very good imagination.”
Walter smiled. “I’m sure. And….” He hesitated, his cheeks tinging pink.
“And…?”
“And it was better than our first time. This was, you know, just us. No Monkey whispering in my head—”
“No Red Wolf.”
Walter smiled. “Yes.”
Bing smiled back. “Yes.”
As pillow talk went, it was fairly pathetic, but it didn’t stop them from saying it. They looked at each other, and occasionally one of them would smile. That would make the other one smile, and then one of them would say, “Yes.”
The word wasn’t always spoken out loud. Walter’s lips would curve in his distinctive way as he mouthed the word. Or Bing would release an exhale that whispered the word in a kind of slow sigh.
It was beautiful, and neither of them wanted to end the moment. They lingered there for as long as they could until Bing got cold. That was an unwelcome reminder of being fully human again. As a werewolf, he could be outside in the arctic and barely feel it. Not now.
Walter made a dry comment about cleaning up. Bing didn’t even really hear the words, but he understood the meaning. All too soon, they were doing necessary things before Bing scrambled under the covers and Walter came back from the bathroom wrapped in a cheap towel.
“What’s going on?” Walter asked.
Bing raised his brows in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve spent forever studying your every expression. You’re thinking about something that isn’t afterglow. If we’re going to keep doing this”—he gestured toward the bed—“and I really hope we do, you’re going to have to talk to me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”
