by Willa Okati
Abram did know better than to push his luck, but…well. Even as much as he wanted to lift Nathaniel by the hips and sink deep inside him, he had to be sure. “You tell me again. Are you sure? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Nathaniel reached for Abram, linking their hands. “Surer than I ever have been about anything,” he said as he intertwined their fingers. “And positive that I want you to fuck me.”
Abram hissed in a breath. “Good God, the things you say. You are so beautiful.”
Nathaniel’s pupils dilated slightly in the brightening morning light—gilded, illuminated with the picture window as his frame. Abram could have looked at him forever, but as he devoured the sight Nathaniel hummed and parted his lips to moisten them. “If you mean that, then show me.”
In Abram’s opinion, those who had the courage to ask ought to be the first to receive.
Nathaniel was as good at kissing as Abram remembered, his lips soft, the bow of the top and the velvet fullness of the bottom slipping open on a breath. He shivered when Abram licked at the separation, instinct and memory and impulse his guides. That light ripple traveled from lips to the arch of his throat and to the width of his shoulders. Abram hated to let go of Nathaniel’s hand, but wanted more to follow that path with his mouth. He traced a heated trail everywhere he could reach, from slim but strong chest to sleek sides, to the narrowness of Nathaniel’s waist and the angel-wing angles of his collarbones.
“Fuck me,” Nathaniel coaxed, so sweetly. He was already close, so close Abram could feel the clenching flex of his thigh muscles as he fought it away. His pretty mouth curved in the most wicked of smiles. “Please, Abram. For me.”
“You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” Abram asked, holding Nathaniel back for one more look at him, so eager and wanting. “That’s all right. I’ll take you with me.”
Nathaniel nearly purred. He laid his palms flat on Abram’s chest and drew his short nails lightly down the skin, leaving delicious prickles in his wake. “Deal. But—lie still.”
Curious, Abram watched Nathaniel lean over him, going straight for the bedside drawer to rummage inside. “I could get that.”
“But I wanted to.” Nathaniel waved a packet of slick at him and tore it open deftly. “Lie still, I said. Don’t move a muscle until I say so.”
Abram disobeyed him only so far as raising one eyebrow. Not that he minded Nathaniel’s faith in him, but humankind hadn’t quite mastered telekinesis yet, and he couldn’t help wondering how he was meant to put the lube to use without—
Oh.
“You are going to kill me,” he blurted. He clapped his hands to Nathaniel’s thighs, holding him up as that wicked, naughty, wonderful minx slipped his own slippery fingers between his legs and moaned. “Twice. Maybe three times.”
“Twice at least,” Nathaniel informed him. He braced one hand on Abram’s chest for balance as he tilted his head back, his deft hand moving in strokes, his hips rocking gently. Another moan escaped him, low and sweet. Oh, they were doing this again. Abram could and would promise him that.
If he didn’t burst his seams from anticipation before then, anyway. His cock ached, hard and fat and bobbing against his stomach—jerking toward Nathaniel, wanting to be enclosed in tightness and heat. More so when Nathaniel let out a small cry and shuddered in exquisite balance. “I have little fingers,” he said, lips parting around the words, breathing in short sips. “I could put four inside myself and I wouldn’t be as big as you. I want you to fill me up.”
The devil he said! Abram swore under his breath. “Have some pity, Nathaniel! I’m not joking. You can do that for hours some other time, but if I don’t have you—”
“But you can have me,” Nathaniel said. He eased his fingers free, and knelt up to take Abram’s hand. “Hold your cock steady for me. Lie still until I say.”
Abram shut his eyes and ground his teeth as Nathaniel sank down on him, taking him inside. Blinded for the moment, he took Nathaniel’s hands as he had before, making a circle of their arms that gave Nathaniel something to brace himself on as he slowly came to settle with his ass flush to Abram’s groin.
“Oh God,” he breathed as their bodies made contact. “I knew you’d feel wider than you looked.”
And I could only imagine how tight you’d be, but imagination didn’t go quite far enough! Abram couldn’t say it out loud, but he had the oddest feeling Nathaniel absolutely understood him. His smile widened, almost drunk with dreaminess.
He exhaled, and took a firmer hold of Abram’s hands. “Move, now,” he said. “Move. Fuck me, and don’t stop until I come. Until you come. Fuck me hard, and make me yours.”
“Your wish,” Abram said, driving up with a thrust that made Nathaniel groan. “My command.”
He’d always liked this position. Enjoyed having someone take control. He’d forgotten how intoxicating, how addictive the sight of someone taking all the pleasure they could hold out of riding his cock. God, yes. The way Nathaniel’s thighs trembled as he rose, and the slick-blunt-hard pressure of his dark-rose cock against Abram’s stomach when he sank down. A hot glove squeezing him, milking him stroke by stroke, until Abram dizzily wondered who was fucking who, in that bed.
It didn’t matter. Not in the least. Nathaniel’s breath came fast, small gulps that trailed off into soft cries, a counterpoint to Abram’s deeper growls. His cock trailed strings of clear, slippery fluid that it skated through, hard and awkward and maddening.
“Let go,” Abram managed. “Let me get my hand on you.”
Nathaniel laughed. “Don’t need to,” he said, barely out loud, head hanging back and a dark pink blush spreading from his throat to his chest as Abram watched. “Almost there. Almost, oh, oh, Abram—”
He curved forward in a tight ‘C’, shoulders mantled as if he would sprout wings. The quiet cries burst from him all at once in a throaty cascade of sound, and he covered Abram’s chest with a pool of hot spunk.
Abram shut his mouth with a groan and thrust up. Nathaniel tightened and loosened around him, a flex and grip that drove him mad—over the edge and down, flooding the amber-eyed beauty and marking him with the fierceness of his grasp.
But it wasn’t finished. Not yet. Nathaniel whispered words that weren’t quite words, a slurry-stream of praise and pleading. He reached between them to ease Abram out of him in a wash of cum and sweat, and dropped to lie atop Abram’s chest. He swept his hair aside and turned his head, presenting Abram with his neck.
“Please,” he begged, making Abram swallow down a mouthful of hot saliva. “Oh, please. Do it now.”
The width of Abram’s hand could cover the whole of Nathaniel’s nape. He took as gentle a hold as he could, turning Nathaniel a half-inch to the left. “You were right,” he said into the shell of Nathaniel’s ear. “My Nathaniel. My mate. Who’d have thought?”
Nathaniel was still laughing when Abram set the edge of his teeth to the smooth, pale skin and bit.
Mate. My mate. My Abram. Mine, now and forever, just as I am yours.
Happy endings always had been Nathaniel’s favorite.
He tucked his head against Abram’s chest, and found him a more than suitable replacement for any pillow ever dreamed of by man. His skin was warm, tacky with sweat and smears of cum he hadn’t managed to clean away. Nathaniel didn’t mind. Never would he complain about this.
He spread his fingers as wide as he could, and still couldn’t span the distance between Abram’s dark nipples. Instead, he contented himself with carding light patterns in the man’s chest hair, then tweaking one of those nipples when Abram’s attention veered away.
Abram cuffed him, no more than the barest of love taps, his chest rumbling with satiation and satisfaction. He stroked Nathaniel’s hair, smoothing it down. “If I told you I didn’t know what I was doing, would you believe me?”
“I would. Does that surprise you?” It was only true. He’d done this before, but they weren’t repeating history. They were makin
g it afresh, as their own. Nathaniel raised himself on one elbow to better look down at Abram’s face. Already beloved. “But as long as you’re willing to let me figure it out with you, I’ll be fine with a few stumbles while we’re finding our feet. And we will, you know. You watch and see.”
Abram chuckled again. He took Nathaniel’s head in the cup of his palm, and drew him down to be kissed then nuzzled contentedly over Nathaniel’s new bite mark. He laid his fingertips on the edge of Nathaniel’s soulmark, and let Nathaniel do the same with the decorations on his skin.
Nathaniel laid his head to rest again over Abram’s heart. It might not be easy. He’d admit that. But oh, it would be worth it. “Trust me,” he said, touching his lips to Abram’s chin. “We’re going to be amazing.”
“But I don’t have to trust. I know now,” Abram said, drawing the duvet up over them both. He’d caught his breath, and his body was interested in claiming Nathaniel again—and again, and again, oh, and again, if Nathaniel had anything to say about it—and he did, now.
“Then tell me,” he coaxed, moving atop Abram. “Tell me once, and take me twice.”
“You,” Abram said, meeting his gaze. “It’s clear as day, my Nathaniel, and I’ll say it every time you ask, because it’s true. As I was meant for you, you were meant for me.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later
Nathaniel perched on the low stone walls that belled out from the coliseum’s stadium entrance. Behind him, late summer azaleas and marigolds had burst into a rush of home team color and lushly crisp fragrance, but overhead the skies were grayer and the breeze that tickled at his skin much cooler than in recent days.
The seasons were turning at last, he decided, eyes closed to enjoy the clean air against his face. But that was all right. Nothing came to an end. Only to a new beginning.
He knew the shape of the shadow that fell across him then as intimately as his own, and smiled without looking. “Hello, Abram.”
“Look at you, soaking up the last of the daylight like a little basking lizard,” Abram said, faux-chidingly. He tapped Nathaniel’s cheek, and when Nathaniel opened his eyes the burly man showed him a pair of paper tickets. “Nosebleed seats, but I got them.”
Nathaniel tucked flyaway strands of hair behind his ears and crinkled his nose at Abram. He’d chosen a light heather-gray sweater and dark jeans that fit him as finely as a caress. He smelled of clean soap and light cedar aftershave. Gorgeous, gorgeous man, and all Nathaniel’s. “That’s fine. I doubt we’ll actually watch that much of the game, will we? I know I don’t plan to.”
“Fair point,” Abram conceded. He dropped down to sit next to Nathaniel, a comfortable and enticing solid wall of warmth that Nathaniel wanted to snuggle into, but—not just yet. “Your brothers are starting to get restless. Cade in particular. Looks like he has fire ants in his pants.”
“As he should. I promised him he’d meet my soulmate tonight.” Nathaniel laughed quietly. So far—deliberately—Cade only thought of Abram as one of Ivan’s friends. A fifth wheel. The likely look on his face should be worth all the anticipation. “I’m surprised he hasn’t imploded yet.”
Abram snorted. “Give him time. I told them I’d come hook you out of dreamland and back to the rest of the party. If you’re ready. Are you?”
“Hmm. Almost. Give me one more minute to enjoy this.” Nathaniel wrapped his arms around his knees and cushioned his cheek on them as he turned to watch his brothers, their friends, and all their mates milling about the coliseum gates. It’d been Abram’s idea to arrange a group gathering at the last home team game of the season. Everybody in one place at one time.
They were well-suited as mates. Nathaniel hummed, pleased, and watched his family.
Robbie stood to one side, Ivan with him. At a glance, Robbie seemed to have shed ten years. He stood taller, more easily, and held his head high. He even smiled. Ivan, too. They talked as quietly as mice, watched each other with deep affection, and leaned comfortably against one another.
Ivan’s friends Nick and Barrett were caught up in a mock argument. They’d been in charge of sorting out rooms for the night, as well as most of the tickets to the game for everyone else. Born to take charge and to nurture, both of them. Nick’s thick blond hair had burst free of its ponytail and whipped about his face as he dodged his mate Barrett’s playful grab. Nathaniel didn’t know them well, but anyone could see the love there. As it should be.
He barely knew Jesse and Daniel at all, but of course family didn’t stop with blood. Nathaniel watched the quiet soldier and how he leaned on his mate’s arm, content to be there in his company. He might not be fully healed of his battle scars quite yet, but he was on his way. He’d get there in the end. They were men of sober disposition, more so than Robbie and Ivan, but utterly faithful. Abram had promised Nathaniel he would get along well with them, and Nathaniel figured he’d called that one right.
And there came Cade, roistering with his Dennis. Honestly, if he’d been given a choice, Nathaniel couldn’t have picked a better partner for his wild brother. Dennis tolerated precisely zero bullshit, and gave as good as he got. He poked Cade in the stomach when Cade’s gesticulating grew too wild and laughed when Cade pretended to have the wind knocked out of him—then looped an arm around Cade’s neck to draw him close for an affectionate kiss.
So much love. Nathaniel drank it in, basking as he had beneath the sun, and only then did he slide off the stone wall to stand. He beckoned Abram with a tilt of the head.
“Showtime at last?” Abram inquired. His broad grin warmed his face and made him look younger than his years. Nathaniel meant to make sure it would stay like that for many, many years to come. “How do you want to play this?”
Nathaniel considered the group in front of them. Cade had come to a dead stop, eyes narrowed as he flicked an assessing stare between himself and Abram. Wouldn’t take him long. Hmm.
“You could kiss me,” he said, looking up at Abram. “That is, if you’re up for it.”
“God, watch how you say things like that,” Abram said. He raised an eyebrow at their group of friends. Cade wasn’t the only one watching them now, though he might be the closest to putting his finger on the button.
Nathaniel laid both hands lightly on Abram’s forearms. “Is that a yes?”
“What do you think? Absolutely yes,” Abram said. Sturdy arms went around Nathaniel to pluck him off his feet, to lift him high, and to hold him tight to be kissed. Abram’s lips fitted just so with Nathaniel’s, and the span of his hand fit exactly right with the length of Nathaniel’s neck, to brace him.
Even while being kissed, Nathaniel could quite easily make out Cade’s massive squawk of indignation. “Him? Him? I didn’t guess him? Damn it! Wait, that’s not possible. Is it? How is that possible?”
“Shut up, middle brother,” Robbie rumbled. “Does it matter? Look at them. It’s true.”
Ivan whistled—at least Nathaniel thought it was Ivan—and applauded. “Now it makes sense,” he said. “That’s the way to do it, Abram, you lucky bastard.”
Abram was, by then, laughing too hard to carry on kissing Nathaniel, but Nathaniel didn’t mind. He rested his forehead against Abram’s to soak up the warmth of his skin and the sturdiness of bone, and to taste the salt of his skin.
“Think they got the point?” he asked Nathaniel.
“You could kiss me once more for luck,” Nathaniel suggested, letting his eyes slide closed as Abram took him up on the offer.
The game would start soon, and the seasons change. But that was all right. As he’d reminded himself before, nothing ended without making way for a new beginning.
All things were possible. Even those meant to be impossible.
They always had been, all along.
Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!
St. Hawk’s Medical: Take Heart
Willa Okati
Excerpt
Wednesdays were underrated. Any
thing could happen on a Wednesday.
Evan dropped the magazine he’d tried—and mostly failed—to keep himself occupied with, waiting. Dr. Kelly could get behind on his schedule before the day even started, and he’d learned a long time ago to come to his check-up appointments prepared for a good old-fashioned campout.
Momentarily distracted, he ticked the list off on his fingers. Sudoku, if he could find a book with puzzles left undone and a pencil. Snacks if he could get away with them, fresh sweet almonds or a granola bar with a touch of fresh-ground peanut butter on the top. A travel mug of herbal tea at the very least, hot and fragrant and sweet with a spoonful of raw clover honey mixed in.
He’d forgotten to make enough tea to take with him when he’d rolled out of bed that morning. Shame. Some days started flurried and didn’t let up, but that was all right. Good things happened to balance them out.
He lifted his head at the cheerful rapping on the door that heralded the arrival of one of his favorite nurses. Darry, as big and broad as the side of a barn, topped off with a full blond beard, poked his head in and grinned at Evan. “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget you. Dr. Kelly called in sick.”
Evan cocked his head to one side, curious. “Doctors can do that?”
“Can and do,” Darry said. “Would you mind if we brought a sub in for the last fifty yards?”
Once a football player, always a football player. Evan grinned to himself before answering, “Sure, why not?” He only needed a quick once-over, after all. Regular check-ups weren’t too much to pay for the gift of a new heart.
“Good man. Hang tight, and we’ll get you sorted out soon.” Darry cocked his head. “By the way, did you know you have fennel in your hair?”
“I do?”
“Not on purpose, I take it,” Darry said with a rumbling chuckle.
