Is the chill of his body unpleasant?
Simon’s fingers flex, making Cody groan and rut forward. His cock slides hot against Simon’s thigh. Not unpleasantat all, then.
“Come on,” Simon grits out as another thick finger pushes in. Warmth seeps into him with every stretch, and the heel of Cody’s hand rolls over his balls. That’s great—fantastic—but Simon needs more. “Give it to me, wolf.”
With a savage grin, Cody slows to a leisurely, messy pace. “You know, I’m kind of liking the bratty thing.”
Then he hooks up, directly into Simon’s prostate. Simon whines, arching off the bed. “You fucking tease.”
“Yes,” Cody purrs into Simon’s neck. “Like that, you beautiful brat.”
Simon should be offended. At a mere twenty-eight years old, Cody doesn’t know anything about anything. But Simon can’t bring himself to care. Every deep stroke sends him writhing, cock straining. He jerks upwards, seeking friction, but finds only heated air.
Fingers slip away with a filthy sound. When Cody repositions, Simon moves in perfect concert with him. Their bodies align, Cody’s blunt cockhead nudging Simon’s entrance.
With one long shove, they’re together.
When Simon first turned, the night was an awakening. The world brightened and darkened, sharpened and softened, every element intensified. Simon felt every faint promise of pleasure and pain. Everything ordinary became new, and Simon reveled in it.
The spark faded over the centuries. Age and loneliness dulled his senses. Now, Cody’s touch makes him feel like a fledgling again.
Only this time, the architect of Simon’s transformation is just as overcome. Cody fucks with unrelenting force, eyes wild buteach thrust slow and deep. Pleasure crashes through Simon, and his mouth waters. His teeth ache.
“Your eyes are red,” Cody says. Fascinated. Not alarmed. Not stopping.
Thank fuck. Simon rocks into each thrust, his bloodthirst transfigured into something even more primal. “You smell delicious,” he manages on shallow breaths. “Don’t worry. I won’t mar your virgin throat.”
“What a coincidence,” Cody says, just as breathless. “You smell delicious, too.” He adjusts, forcing the angle slightly off, slightly painful. Just one thrust, but Cody must see how Simon’s whole body sings in response. Because he repeats that every few thrusts.
Each fleeting hurt binds Simon to the present moment. He needs Cody so deep inside him that no part remains untouched. Physically and mentally. Cody’s concentration is absolute. Simon feels it in the precise force of each movement. The tension of Cody’s broad shoulders. Clenched jaw and closed eyes, before Cody drops his forehead to Simon’s collarbone.
Cody hooks one hand under Simon’s thigh, and Simon bends nearly in half with the push. Deeper. Better. Exactly what he needs, even before Cody’s other hand drops to Simon’s aching cock.
One rapturous touch, and Simon falls silent, rigid, blinded with pleasure. Like staring into the sun after centuries of night. His release spills over Cody’s hand.
With a final, brutal thrust, Cody shudders to join him. Hot come paints Simon’s insides, almost too much for overstimulated nerves. Lost in the sound of Cody’s harshbreath, Simon falls back onto the mattress. His fingers loosen with difficulty from Cody’s biceps.
They’re still joined when Cody collapses on top of him, all scratching hair and sweat-slick skin. Cody mumbles, “You’re incredible.”
Simon isn’t sure if he’s supposed to have heard that, so he decides not to answer. To be polite. Not because he’s too dazed to formulate a response. Better to close his eyes and relish the calm. He deserves this respite.
He wouldn’t mind having this forever. That isn’t impossible—but Simon shies away from all the questions and decisions that would entail. Now isn’t the time to think about the future.
Eventually, Cody pushes up with a grunt. His softened cock slips away, and his hand lingers, tentative, on Simon’s hip. Cody lies beside Simon, still surrounding him with sweat and heat.
Simon rolls over and touches Cody’s throat. Blood pulses temptingly beneath his fingertips. Pulses even faster as Simon leans in for a wet, lazy kiss.
“Don’t say anything,” Simon whispers.
Cody obeys his plea by silently pulling him close. Perfect. Simon doesn’t want to speak or listen or even think. He just wants to curl up—like this—under Cody’s strong arm, pillowing his head over that thundering heartbeat.
Chapter 22
Cody
Cody adores the chill of Simon’s body. A month ago, he would have scoffed at the thought. But now, everything about Simon is perfect. His eyes shifting between blue-green and red as Cody drove him wild. His taunting words. His death-cold flesh tempering the heat of Cody’s desire. A soothing balm during a fever dream.
Fine hair tickles Cody’s chest. No breath, because Simon only breathes when he wants to speak. His weight fits perfectly beneath Cody’s arm.
