by Noah Harris
“Good,” Dylan whispered, surprised by how hoarse and wrecked his voice was. He glanced up at Blake, eyes dark and lewd, as he ran his lips along Blake’s length.
Blake’s grip lost its strength, his resolution crumbling in the wake of Dylan’s desire. He could smell him. His scent hot and heavy even in the steam of the shower, leather and earth, musk and man. Dylan was drunk on it. Wanting more. Needing more.
He sank back onto Blake’s length, and it wasn’t long before the alpha was tensing, squeezing his hand in warning and letting out a choked and mangled version of Dylan’s name as he came down his throat.
Dylan swallowed as much as he could, pulling off his alpha’s length and letting the last few spurts run down his chin.
Blake slumped heavily against the wall of the shower, chest heaving with every breath, eyes low and lidded, brows pinched. His lips were wet and red from biting them.
Dylan stood, ignoring the pain that shot through his knees. They almost buckled beneath him, but Blake’s hands were there in an instant, holding him up, supporting him. He still looked wrecked, but nothing would stop him from checking to make sure Dylan was okay.
Dylan shot him a grateful smile, moving away to clean himself off in the shower spray. His knees still burned, legs aching. He hadn’t noticed the discomfort in the moment. He’d been completely oblivious to it, and it occurred to him that he would deal with a plethora of discomforts for Blake.
Blake stayed where he was, slowly recovering as he leaned against the wall, eyes raking over Dylan’s body as he took the time to clean himself. Dylan wasn’t oblivious to the fact that his scent was still strong with desire, or that his cock was still half hard and twitching with interest as he watched Dylan.
When he was done and had rinsed out his hair, he turned, pressing himself to the wall across from Blake and stepping out of the shower spray. He held his ass out, bent forward with his hands and chest pressed to the wall. He watched over his shoulder as Blake’s eyes widened, gaze moving up and down his body, eyebrows raised curiously. He shifted his legs further apart, exposing himself, his own cock hard between his legs.
When Blake finally locked eyes with him, Dylan licked his lips, speaking low and hoarse as he whispered. “Fuck me, Blake.”
Blake was off the wall in an instant, striding across the shower to press himself up against Dylan’s back. His hands were everywhere. Long slender fingers moved up and down Dylan’s sides, his chest, his stomach, his hips, his thighs. Dylan arched into him, head dropping forward as he pushed back, slotting his ass against Blake’s hips, feeling the press of his mate’s cock. He wanted it. He needed it. He definitely wasn’t above begging for it.
“Blake, please,” he whispered, hearing his voice crack and not at all ashamed of it. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted this moment to himself. Wanted to go back to a time where neither of them were parents and they only had to live for each other. A time when life was simpler.
The only thing in life he was sure of was his connection and spark with Blake. He wanted to revel in it, live in it, and let his worries fade, if only for a moment.
Blake leaned forward, nuzzling into the back of Dylan’s neck, running lips, tongue, and teeth along his shoulder and back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, lips moving against the junction between neck and shoulder. Then he opened his mouth and bit down, hard.
Dylan’s body jerked, pressing back against him as a shout ripped from his throat. Blake released him, licking over and kissing the marks he had left. “Blake, please,” Dylan repeated, body starting to shake.
“Please, what?” Blake said, a teasing edge to his voice.
“Fuck me, please,” Dylan whined, bracing himself on the wall to push back, rubbing himself shamelessly on his mate. “Please, I need you, Blake. I need—please—inside me,” he babbled between breaths.
“Always so needy for me, aren’t you?” Blake teased, voice low and molten as one arm wrapped around Dylan, hand inching up his chest and fingers settling loosely around his throat, tilting his head to the side so Blake could nip along his neck. “I love when you beg for me, Dylan. And you know I’ll give it to you, don’t you? Know I’ll give it to you good, baby. Like I always do.”
“Blake,” Dylan gasped as fingers slipped between his cheeks, pushing at his entrance. He didn’t even think before shifting his legs further apart.
“You’re already so wet for me,” he said, lips moving against Dylan’s ear. “So slick.” His fingers circled his rim, teasing. “You want me that badly, hmm? I bet you’re already loose, too. Your body is already begging to be fucked.”
“Blake,” Dylan whined, pushing back against his fingers.
Blake kept them frustratingly out of his reach, chuckling low into Dylan’s ear. “Eager, aren’t you?”
“Please—baby, please—fuck me, Blake. I want you—“ His rambling was cut off in a choked shout, dissolving into a moan as Blake pushed two fingers inside of him without warning.
He moved quickly, starting with two fingers that pushed easily past the ring of muscle of his entrance. Blake had been right. Dylan was already loose and eager for him. His body was practically dripping with anticipation. He breathed out heavily, his exhale trailing off into a moan as he canted his hips back against Blake’s fingers, taking in as much as he could but feeling the driving need to have more.
Blake didn’t have to wait long before he could add a third finger, and Dylan’s whole body shuddered. It burned, but it was a pleasant kind of burn. It was the dull ache of a stretch, one that would only get better in time. Blake drove his fingers into him, again and again. He set a relentless pace reminiscent of how Dylan had taken his cock into his mouth earlier. It left Dylan shaking, fingers sliding and grasping against the wet tiles, face pressed to the wall for support, lips parted and gasping with every breath.
Blake curled his fingers, and Dylan saw stars, his long moan choking off into a whine as his back arched.
He could feel Blake’s length, hot and heavy against his hip. He was hard again, and that knowledge in and of itself drove Dylan over the edge.
“Blake—please—fuck me, baby, fuck me—please—I need you—“ Half formed phrases dropped from his wet and swollen lips.
He could feel Blake’s smirk against his neck, feel his breath against his ear. He pulled his fingers out, and Dylan whined at the loss, the need to be filled. Blake chuckled, grabbing hold of Dylan’s hips and lining himself up at his entrance. His cock was hot and hard, tip brushing against Dylan’s quivering rim. “You want it, baby?”
“Yes, Blake—please,” Dylan whispered, the words hoarse and his voice half choked.
“You always want me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You need me to fill you up, don’t you?”
“Please.”
Blake pushed into him with a slow, steady thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Dylan’s body stiffened, back arching, head thrown back and eyes wide, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry. Blake curled around him, forehead resting on his shoulder, he was panting and his breath felt warm and heavy against Dylan’s skin. He stayed like that, waiting for Dylan to relax around him, and Dylan did, slowly. He was so full. So stretched. The pain dulled to a pleasant ache, one that begged for more.
“You feel so good, Dylan,” Blake whispered against his shoulder while his hands ran up and down his sides. “You feel so good. So tight. My precious, beautiful omega. My mate. My husband. My love.” His voice trailed off into a growl, hands moving to grip Dylan’s hips tight, lips running along Dylan’s shoulder, up his neck.
Blake pulled back, almost all the way out, and shoved back in, nearly pressing them both against the wall. Dylan gasped at the feeling of being filled over and over as Blake thrust into him. It was slow and precise, each thrust going all the way to the base.
When they had made love after Dylan arrived home, it had been fast and needy. Both of them had been driven to the brink with the need
to touch and taste all at once. That time it had been a frenzy, wrapped up in the fever of their bodies, unable to stop the force that drove them onward, quick and heavy and desperate.
This time, it was different. Each touch was slow and reverent. Each thrust was controlled. Blake pulled out, paused, and pushed back in. Each of them savoring the drag, savoring the feeling of their bodies lining up, becoming whole, becoming one. Dylan felt everything all at once. It was too much but at the same time, it wasn’t enough. He was at Blake’s mercy, and he was torn between enjoying the moment and begging him to speed up, but his words caught as moans in his throat.
He could feel Blake through their bond. He could feel the adoration, the love, the affection. He could feel his pleasure, his need, and the tight control he kept over it to stop himself from going too fast. He too, wanted to savor the moment and savor every touch, the feel, and the drag of Dylan’s body.
They so rarely got to take their time with each other these days. Rarely did they get to enjoy the primal feeling of their joining, of alpha and omega, of mates becoming one.
If Dylan closed his eyes, he could pretend they were young again, new to each other’s bodies and without the added weight of familial responsibilities.
“Stop holding it in,” Blake said, voice rough and harsh yet soothing and demanding all at once. He nuzzled into Dylan’s neck, inhaling deeply as he licked along his scent glands, humming with satisfaction as he thrust in again. “I want to hear every sound, all of them. I never get to hear you anymore, my love. Let me hear you.”
And Dylan couldn’t refuse him, even if he tried. His bottom lip slipped from between his teeth. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d been biting it. Sound immediately bubbled out of his throat. A strange yet beautiful symphony of moans, cries, and whines, keens and groans, choked off and strangled every time Blake thrusted into him. He was loud and he knew it. He always had been. And he played on it, making himself louder, not holding back, knowing that Blake loved hearing him and he’d do anything to make Blake happy.
“You sound so good, babe, so good. Feel so good.” Blake’s voice was getting ragged, cracking at the edges, his hips thrusting a little faster, more desperate and erratic. Dylan could feel both their bodies shaking where they touched. “Come for me, Dylan.” Blake reached around his waist and took hold of his leaking cock, stroking it firmly in time with each of his thrusts. “Come for me.”
Then Blake bit down on the juncture of his neck, hard and rough, and Dylan came with a shout, seeing stars.
6
As it turned out, apologizing was the easy part.
Blake was a man who had his pride. He was a competent and capable alpha, so owning up to any sort of mistake, on his part, grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. Dylan knew he didn’t like admitting to such alpha tendencies, but he could see the struggle in his eyes. He was also a logical man and as such, he could push his pride down for the greater good. He never wanted to be one of those alphas who let their pride come before their fall. He was far too smart for that.
After their shower, during which they had thoroughly enjoyed one another, they lounged on the bed. It was plush and soft, the sheets like silk against their bare skin. They revelled in one another, as they hadn’t been able to do for so long. They spoke in whispered tones, as though anything too loud might break the moment. They shared small smiles and reverent touches. Their fingertips and hands constantly roaming, unable to get enough and stay still.
He cherished these soft moments. They came few and far in between their busy lives now. It was exactly what Dylan had been craving: a pocket of time where he and his mate could simply exist together, enjoy each other’s company, and not have to worry about missions, Lily or anything that might come between them.
In these peaceful moments, time seemed to stand still, even as the sun faded and chased colors across the room. Dylan felt lighter than he had in days and felt the tension ease from Blake’s shoulders. A spark returned to them, a soft happiness that had been missing and drowning between the chaos that had become their lives.
As the sun started to set on the horizon, casting orange and red hues through the windows, elongating shadows in their room, they heard the dinner bell. A soft and muted gong echoed across the compound, letting everyone know that dinner was served.
Blake had sighed, attempting to sink further into the blankets, but Dylan hadn’t let him. He was pregnant. They’d had a good workout and he was starving. With an amused smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he pushed Blake out of bed and made him get dressed.
They made their way to the dining hall, Blake’s arm around Dylan’s shoulders and Dylan’s arm around Blake’s waist, held tight to each other’s sides. They waved in greeting to those they recognized as they passed by, filtering into the large room. It was lined with long tables and benches, plenty of room for everyone in the pack. The head table which was perpendicular to the others to give Arulean a view of the entire room, was at the far end of the hall.
Arulean’s spot was empty, as it had been for several days now, and Blake’s chest tightened. He hated seeing the dragon and his friend like this, in turmoil. He detested the guilt that bubbled in his gut because he hadn’t been able to find anything and Arulean was counting on him.
It only further hardened his resolve to make things right.
They found Lily first, sitting at a table with Lucy and several of the other children. She was talking animatedly with another young girl with dark curls, and a soft smile graced Blake’s lips.
He gave Dylan a light squeeze before slipping away from his side, striding up to Lily and lifting her out of her seat. As soon as she recognized him, her arms immediately reached for him. She introduced her friend and babbled to him about her day He listened, offering input when needed. Dylan stood back and watched, arms crossed loosely over his chest. As he watched, Blake seemed to further relax, the tension easing out of him and his smile becoming more genuine.
Dylan felt a twinge of jealousy. He didn’t think he ever felt himself relaxing like that around Lily. Even when he was happy to be around her and things were going fine, there was always an underlying seed of anxiety and nerves that he couldn’t quite get rid of. It all came so naturally to Blake, though. Sometimes Dylan wondered if Blake wouldn’t have been better off with someone else who was just as suited for parenthood as he was, but Dylan was too selfish to give him up now.
Blake eventually set her back down, greeted Lucy and thanked her, before turning back to Dylan. He pulled his mate in, holding him close to his chest and buried his face in Dylan’s neck. Dylan closed his eyes and let Blake’s dark earthy scent wash over him. All too soon, Blake pulled back and sighed.
Dylan simply gave him a light squeeze before murmuring a soft “good luck.”
Blake had left him then, weaving across the dining hall to the table at the far end, nestled into a corner and away from the main crowds and conversations. Out of the way, nearly hidden, still and calm compared to the writhing mass of the pack, sat the witches.
As Dylan watched, a mixture of nervousness and pride welling up in his chest, Blake spoke to the witches. After a moment of hesitation, Adelaide stood and followed Blake out of the room. Dylan exhaled heavily through his nose. It was up to Blake now to fix things.
_______________________
“And you think this will work?” Blake eyed the circle drawn onto the floor in salt, symbols and runes written in chalk around it. There were a few crystals at even points around the circle, chalk lines all pointed to the center where Rajiah’s phone sat, innocent and unmoving. A cord connected it from where it sat to one of Blake’s laptops, a tracking program was open on his screen.
Adalaide looked up from where she was crouched next to the circle, leaning back to survey her work. She gave him a tired smile, running a hand down her face. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if anything will work. But it’s worth a shot, right? Nothing to lose at this point.”
/> Dylan watched from across the room, curled up on the couch that stood against the wall. They had been at it for hours. One by one, the other witches had filtered out of the room, seeking rest. Dylan had left to go and put Lily to bed, and had returned to find them still going at it. They had tried several ideas, but so far nothing had worked. Running on nothing but cold coffee and fumes, they were trying one last experiment for the night.
Blake had tried to get Dylan to go to bed, but he had refused. He wanted to be here for Blake, but also because he was restless. As foolish as it seemed, no matter how useless he was here, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be left behind if he wasn’t around. He wanted to be a part of this mission, even if it was only for moral support at the moment. Being alone, restless, and left awake in bed while he wondered and waited didn’t sound appealing at all.
Even from across the room, he could see the heavy bags under both of their eyes, the lines of exhaustion cutting across their faces, and he knew he probably wasn’t in a much better state.
The room was dark, lit by a couple lamps in the corners and the bluish glow from the computer screens. It reflected off Blake’s face as he stared at them, making him look sickly, pale, and far, far too tired, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that refused to lie down and die.
“Alright,” Blake said with a shrug. Straightening and twisting his back to crack it, and stretching his arms out in front of him, he continued “let’s give this a shot.”
Adalaide nodded, sitting cross legged just outside the circle and picking up the small, ceremonial knife that had been sitting next to her. She pricked her finger, her face unflinching as she did so. “Can you light the bundles?”
Blake acknowledged by silently reaching over to the wrapped bundle of herbs and who knew what else, holding it to a candle until it caught fire and then letting it burn for a moment before blowing it out. He set it down to smolder on a glass plate next to the circle. The smoke filled the room with various scents, difficult to place, but easy to feel the effects they sparked within him. They calmed him, set him at ease, and called out to his baser instincts. He could feel the man being pushed aside, and the wolf rising. It was a call to power, a way to center a witch and her magic and strengthen it.
