by Julia Talbot
His breath hitched, his chest rising sharply. Barthe’s chuckle tickled, then he got a sharp hungry bite, Barthe’s teeth stinging.
Oh, he needed more of that. He reached for Barthe, wanting to clutch those broad shoulders and Barthe gave him another bite, teeth dragging on his skin. He pushed, pulled, his body not sure what to do to get closer.
Barthe’s hand slid under his butt, dragging them together, tight. He parted his legs, ready to take Barthe in. It was easy as pie, the burn sweet and deep. Oh, Barthe was big.
Better than anyone or anything he’d used to try and forget.
A soft growl caught his attention and they started moving. Yes. He needed to pay attention, to be right there with Barthe. The pressure inside him grew, stretching him as he let his mate in deep. He could hardly breathe once Barthe was seated fully inside him. They stayed still, but only for a second before Rene needed to move.
He rolled his hips and Barthe let out a sharp moan, beginning to rock again, Harder.
“Oui. Oui, cher. Jus’ so. Bartholome.” He loved how Barthe’s name rolled off his tongue.
His mate’s heavy head bobbed, throat working as that thick cock pierced his body. God, he’d needed this, He could hear Barthe now, thoughts jumbling into his head.
Rene sucked in wild gulps of air, caught, trapped in their connection, Barthe was right there with him, moaning his name, love words in all of their languages. He soared, sinking deeper and deeper into the river of Barthe’s thoughts.
Sweet chiot. Barthe’s mental voice seemed to echo, deeper than the spoken word.
“Yours!” He jerked and squeezed, working the heavy cock inside him.
“Mine. Oh. God, Rene. Tight. Made for me.”
Rene nodded furiously. Yes. Yes. He was the perfect fit for his lover.
Finally. Finally, things were right.
He clawed at Barthe’s back, trying not to think about the poor halfling who was still so wrong. He’d been broken for most of his life, he couldn’t waste another second.
“Love. My love. Finally have you.” The satisfaction in Barthe’s voice suited him, down to the bone.
Hell, he was pretty close to satisfaction himself, his balls drawing up, aching all the way to his spine. He wanted to smell Barthe’s come, wanted to feel it deep inside.
Barthe arched, bowing him, bending him as they slammed together. They rocked and panted and grunted, but they were together in this, perfect in their timing. For the first time, Rene didn’t feel as if he needed to struggle for his climax. This time he knew it was coming. Barthe pushed him higher and higher, but he didn’t worry about falling, either. He simply flew.
Bartholome moaned, encouraging him, adoring him, and his orgasm was secondary to that amazing flood of love.
He reached up to trace the line of Barthe’s cheek. “When you do, cher.”
His mate leaned into him, cheek heavy and stubbled, warm on his palm. Then Barthe kissed his hand before driving into him harder, faster, their hips slapping together.
It was the entire world, the universe. Perfection.
And it was his.
Barthe finally came for him, howling loudly, hips sawing back and forth as the orgasm ripped through him.
Rene’s voice joined his mate’s, their song lifting to the moon. They needed to celebrate, to show the lady they were happy with her match for them. Finally.
Blessedly.
***
Barthe slipped back into the room he shared with Rene at the camp, hating that they had to hit the road again. This time, though, they would go together. Always.
“Bebe. Wake up, chiot.”
Rene’s dark eyes opened, and he got a smile, arms opening to him.
Pulling Rene up, he kissed his lover, lingering over the sweet lips and stubbly chin. Lovely little wolf. He’d not expected Rene to be... charming. Dear. Once their bond had set, Rene’s frenetic worry had eased.
His boy was damned funny, and hot as hell, and Barthe could see why all those men he’d had to scare the shit out of over the years had wanted Rene’s fine ass.
Rene cuddled into his chest, legs wrapping around his waist.
Barthe chuckled. “We have to get moving, chiot. Bastien needs me to help drive. There’s a traiteur in Mississippi, a healer who might be able to help his Greg. We’re all a pack now, oui?”
“Oui. Oui, he’s hurting bad, huh?”
“He’s still stuck, I think we need hoodoo.” Bastien had tried everything from biting to beating to sex, the last not even happening, as it was too painful.
“When are we leaving?”
“Half hour? As soon as he can get Greg up and moving.”
They’d been keeping Greg drugged for the last eighteen hours or so.
“Good. That’s just... nasty.” Rene cuddled into him, let him comfort.
It made him want to howl some.
“I know.” Barthe kissed Rene’s cheeks, his chin.
“We need to find a place that we can call ours anyway, hmm? Somewhere safe to hunt.” Smart pup.
“We do. Does it bother you, Bastien being in our pack?”
It would be hard to leave his brother, but for Rene he would.
“Bastien is Greg’s and they need us. I think they work with us and four is stronger than two, right?”
“We so are. I’m proud of you, chiot. You have the right to ask for all of my time.”
Rene kissed him. “I want a real life, mate. A pack.”
“Me, too. Others will find us.” Barthe chuckled. “A pack of misfits.”
“There’s nothing new with that.”
“No. No, that’s true. It suits us.”
“Do you miss being the normal one? Being with them?”
“Not a bit.” He didn’t. Rene was his lover, and he had his Bastien now, too.
Greg he’d have to reserve judgment on, he guessed, but the man had been a vet. He was going to be okay. He had to be, Bastian was attached. Grinning, he thought of all the times Bastien had teased him about his freaky mate. Man, Greg had anyone beat.
Rene kissed him, the caress soft as feathers.
Barthe hummed, kissing his lover back. “Ready, chiot?”
“I am. Let’s go.”
So easy. Just like that.
He let Rene slide down to his feet before taking another kiss.
There was a hell of a difference between running and going. This was something they could do together.
For the first time in years, Barthe was excited to see what tomorrow would bring.
End
