That alone nearly undoes me.
My hands settle at his waist, thumbs brushing warm skin, and only then does he move. His hands come up slowly, cuppingmy sides, anchoring me there like he’s afraid I might vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.
The kiss is soft at first. Exploratory.
Water beads along his jaw, sliding down the column of his throat. I taste salt and the familiar comfort that’s simply Boone—steady, grounding, real. The kiss deepens gradually, pressure increasing in small increments until my breath stutters and I press closer without thinking.
He makes a low sound, barely more than a hum, and I feel it resonate through him.
“Elias,” he murmurs, like a question.
I nod, forehead resting briefly against his. “I’m here.”
His hands tighten, then flex. The restraint in that small movement sends need pooling low in my belly.
When I speak again, my voice is quieter. More vulnerable. “Can I… ask you something?”
His thumbs trace small, grounding circles at my ribs. “Yes.”
I swallow. “Like this. While you’re… human. Would you want to… be with me like this?”
The pause that follows is charged, not uncertain. He searches my face, eyes dark and intent, reading me the way he always does—carefully, completely. “Yes,” he says finally, voice roughening. “But only if you’re sure.”
“I am,” I say without hesitation. Then, because honesty feels easier with him than it ever has with anyone else, I add, “And I want your other form too. I just… think I’ll need time. To build up to it.”
A soft, surprised laugh escapes him. “You plan everything.”
“I plandangerousthings,” I correct, smiling despite the nerves fluttering in my chest. But seriously, the size of his cock in cryptid form is enough to make me wince, but not back away completely. It’ll have to be a time when we have days to stretch and plan.
Hmm, I wonder if there’s somewhere I can buy poppers. Not that I’m usually down for drug use, but I want to take all of him, and if it means I need some extra help to be able to accommodate him, damn straight I’m keeping my options open.
His expression warms, fond and heated all at once. “That’s wise.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the world narrows.
He slides his hands with purpose now, mapping my back, my waist, my hips, learning how I fit against him in this smaller, closer space. The water slicks everything, warmth and friction blurring into sensation until my thoughts scatter.
I press him back gently, until his shoulders meet tile, and he lets me—lets me take that small bit of control. The look he gives me in response sends a jolt straight through me.
“You’re looking at me like I’m prey,” I murmur, half teasing.
He exhales slowly. “You’re not prey.”
“Good,” I say, kissing him again. “Because I don’t feel hunted.”
His hands shift, cradling me closer, his presence solid and protective even as the moment grows hotter. When his touch dips first to his exposed cock, then lower to my ass, it’s unhurried, deliberate, checking in at every step.
I tense for a moment at the first touch—anticipation, nerves riding me. He stills instantly.
“Talk to me,” he says quietly.
“I’m good,” I assure him, meeting his gaze. “Just… feeling everything.”
He nods, adjusting his fingers before pressing one thick finger inside me.
“Oh my—fuck!” The word pushes out of me with force. He stills. “Keep going,” I say quickly. His finger is deep, and when he moves it, I groan. “Holy! How?—”
His brows dip in confusion, but I can’t form words. Heck, I can barely catch my breath, as with every dip and swipe of his finger drags across my prostate.
