“Now that’s a reaction that’s worth being rewarded for.” Taran’s fingers pull from my ass and I feel lost without some part of him inside me. I don’t wait long before he’s pushing my thighs up to cant my hips.
With a sharp jab, his thick cock is buried in me and I shout in surprise. The flash of discomfort passes quickly as my body adjusts around his thick shaft.
With teeth clenched and bared, Taran watches me as he picks up a punishing pace of thrusts, pounding into me. I don’t feel pain, just the blinding pleasure from being claimed so thoroughly as Taran mercilessly takes us both to the peak. Just before I can tip over and come, he slows until the urgency passes.
Then he does it again. And again. And again, until I am begging him to please, please let me come.
Taran finally obliges, taking my own neglected and weeping cock in hand, stroking in time with his thrusts until it’s all a blur. My orgasm surprises me, slamming into me with ferocity, and my cum paints my stomach with lines of heat.
As I slowly start to float back down on blissful hormones, Taran roars his own completion. The look of intensity on his face as he finds his pleasure is an image that I will treasure for a long time. It is the look of a man who gave over in complete abandon to someone else.
That someone else is me. Maybe that’s me painting my desire and bias onto him, but a deep knowing settles into my very being.
Taran falls forward, catching himself before he crushes me beneath his body weight, then tips to the side. Before I can shift, he gathers me in his arms and wraps around me. Cum is drying on my stomach and will soon start to itch, and my ass has been pleasantly abused, but with Taran wrapped around me so protectively, I will enjoy it while I can.
I’ve almost dropped off to sleep when Taran nudges me and I blink my eyes open to look at him. “Can you stay a while today?”
I’m willing to stay for as long as he wants, as long as this contentment never fades. I nod. “Today is my day off. I don’t have to be back to the gallery until tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” Taran says. He shifts around to get comfortable and closes his eyes, signaling that now is the time for a nap.
By the time morning rolls around, Taran has thoroughly exhausted me. I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the shower, but he is as attentive in there as he is in bed. He takes care of me, washing every available part of me before giving me the choicest, fluffiest towel.
Even breakfast shows deliberate care. Pancakes, fresh orange juice, excellent coffee, and bacon fried to just the perfect level of crispness.
Sitting at the table clad only in the towel, watching as he busies around the kitchen in his jeans, feels familiar.
And comfortable.
His back bears the marks of one of our many sessions, long deep red stripes. I didn’t see any blood on the sheets but I still feel bad. “I hope those didn’t sting too much in the shower,” I say, pointing to his bare back.
Taran looks over his shoulder before he shrugs. “Nah, takes a lot more than that to hurt me. You were getting into it and I was not about to stop you.”
I still feel bad about it, though. “It’s crazy.”
“Which part?” Taran hooks one of his feet with mine under the dinette table.
“This connection,” and I motion between us with my fork.
“I think what’s crazy is you coincidentally walking into my shop. But I don’t believe in coincidences so it seems like there’s really only one explanation.”
I fall silent as I consider that. It was as close as either of us got in conversation since yesterday to acknowledging that we might be fated mates. “Is it supposed to be this comfortable? I mean, Taran, we hardly know each other.”
“I don’t know. Maybe? It’s not like I’ve ever had a fated mate before. But they tell tales of it. Of a connection that runs deep and defies explanation.” Taran leans forward and takes the juice glass out of my hand, holding it in both of his. “I know one thing. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before.”
It really is a relief to know I’m not the only one. We never knotted the night before and now I want to feel it. I want to rest in the protective shelter of his arms, our bodies locked together by his knot, taking the final claiming to its logical conclusion.
Already my body agrees that it’s a fabulous idea.
Talking all the stuff about fated mates is one thing, but to finally have it out in the open and knowing it’s the cause of some of the most profound feelings I’ve had in a while…
It moves quickly into overwhelming territory.
“Hey, you’re thinking awfully hard.” Taran’s voice brings me back out of my head. He taps at my temple. “What’s going on in there?”
“Stupidly, I was thinking about how quickly I could get you to knot with me,” I admit in embarrassment.
Taran stands and draws me up with him. “Call in sick.”
“Taran.” I should say no. I want to say no because I really do have to go into the gallery. “There’s a show coming up and I need to get the gallery ready.”
I said the words but there wasn’t an ounce of conviction in them.
Taran readily picks up on that and grins. “Then meet me halfway. Call out until lunch.”
I’d be lying if I say I considered saying no after that.
Instead, I leave my towel at the table.
3
Taran
Day three of the shop being open is about as busy as day one was—just a trickle of customers after I’d left to take Nosko home with me. Varos tells me that word of mouth takes a little time to build up steam. I’ll have to take him at his word on that.
I’m oddly okay with the shop not being packed with people in this first week. Treasured Ink is a labor of love for me, just like it is for the rest of them. A place to kick up our heels, do what we love at the level we love it, and just let the rough end drag.
It’s approaching lunch and the only client in the shop is in Bronaz’ chair, leaving me to put the finishing touches on Nosko’s design. Nosko’s due in soon and I want to have several designs ready to show him. Now that I’ve had an up-close-and-personal look at the ink sight, the outer forearm, I know what to expect in terms of detail I can do.
And I’m acquainted with his pain threshold, too.
I have to shift in my chair before I spring a boner thinking about that again. Little omega was feisty. While I have fast healing, it still takes some time for deep scratches to fade.
Distantly, I hear the door chime over the sound of the blaring music Sako insists on blasting through the speakers. As long as it fits the atmosphere of the shop, I don’t really care what it is. Keeping the vibe up is key. It helps keep the clients engaged and when in the chair for long periods of time, gives them something to zone out over.
Varos peeks around the divider that separates the waiting area and reception counter from the main body of the shop. “Heads up, Taran. Client here to see your sketches.”
“Is that what we call it these days?” Bronaz teases, not even bothering to look up from his work, the jerk. I show him my middle finger. I know he saw that when he bursts into laughter.
When Nosko comes into view, fighting that boner is now a full-time job. He’s dressed for work in a nice pair of slacks and a crisp white shirt. The tie is understated as well. If I didn’t know better, and I do, he looks like any nervous salary man in the city.
His nerves are anything but that. Looking at him, I don’t think anyone could tell with his darting looks and flighty mannerisms, but I know even without having fucked him. Nosko is just observant. I learned that the morning after when I took him back to bed for one final roll before we had to return to the normal world.
I shift onto my stool and wave him over to take a seat in the chair. “Afternoon, Nosko,” I say, flipping the pages on my sketch pad back. “Or is it evening?”
“After work is a time caught in that weird between time,” Nosko says. He pauses, looking at me, his gaze da
rting to my lips like he was thinking about kissing me. Something stops him and he slides awkwardly into the chair.
“I’ve been working on some ideas,” I say to cut through his awkwardness. “Ready to see them?”
Nosko rubs his hands along his thighs and takes a deep breath before nodding quickly. When he does that, he is every bit the younger dragon I know he is.
I flip the pad open and hold the book out to him. “That one, and the next four after it.”
Nosko’s lips part with a small gasp as he looks through them, flipping back and forth between the pages. “They’re amazing.”
Well, yeah, I admit they are. Some might accuse me of being arrogant. Maybe I am.
I’m damn sure confident in my ability to create art on someone’s skin. Many years apprenticed to some of the best masters in the business, along with, what I’ve been told, a natural artistic ability, has made me one of the masters of ink now. I trade on it.
Nosko is not going to get less than my best, either.
“I can’t decide,” Nosko says, setting the pad on his thighs. “They’re all so beautiful.”
“Here,” I motion for the pad and then Nosko’s arm. “Push up your sleeve.”
Nosko complies and extends his arm. I hold the pad beneath his arm and position the sketch next to it. “Use your imagination.”
Confusion crosses his features before he catches on to what I’m doing, and he takes the pad from me again and starts to compare the sketch next to his forearm. A few times, he turns his arm over to see what it’d look like on the inner arm area. “What do you think?” he asks.
“It’d look great,” I say, eyeing him. “But it depends on your threshold of pain. That’s not my first choice for someone new to tattoos.”
Nosko considers that for a moment and nods, turning his arm back over. “I hate pain.”
Yeah, he says that but his sneaky smile lets me know he remembers the night we spent together. While I wasn’t rough or anything, he didn’t encourage me to be gentle, either.
“Cheeky,” I say with a laugh.
“Which one do you like?” he asks a little more solemnly. “They’re all perfect.”
We talk a little bit about the purpose of the tattoo. I know what he said when he first came in, but it helps to reinforce in his mind why he’s doing it.
After some deliberation, he opens to the sketch I made of a Whiptail dragon stretched out pre-flight from a rock in a small pond. “This one.”
If I didn’t already know we were fated mates, I’d think that was coincidental. Instead, I know better. I knew it the moment I drew it that it would be his pick.
It was a fairly simple design, all things considered. “I estimate this won’t take long at all. Three to four hours? Again, it depends on how long you can tolerate the pain before we have to stop.”
That sly smile crosses Nosko’s lips again. He makes it damn hard to resist leaning over and taking that smirk in a kiss. I manage to avoid doing that and sit back on my stool.
“Do you have time to start tonight?”
I glance around the shop. “I don’t know, we’re pretty busy right now…”
Nosko flaps the pad at me before holding it out. “Smart ass.”
I take it and store it under my cart. “We can do the line work and start the shading tonight if that’s what you want. Let me grab the waivers and get your arm prepped.”
I’ve never been an office sort of guy, spending all my time working in shops. Or any place that would allow me to keep it real. The standard dress for me is always t-shirt, jeans, and boots.
Nosko was dressed casually the other day, and now he’s all kitted out in office attire. So when he strips off his shirt, he’s wearing a white t-shirt beneath it. I didn’t think they still did that.
Then again, men’s fashion was never my thing anyway.
At any other time, I would have thought it a very geeky move. Only nerds wore t-shirts beneath their dress shirts, right?
On Nosko, it’s sexy.
Sexy as hell.
He’s smaller, as omegas usually are, but like I discovered when he was in my bed, his body holds a quiet strength to it.
Bent over his arm, I concentrate on the lines, first. The hum of the machine provides the perfect thing to focus on to keep my mind on my work and not on his whipcord body.
I’m so thankful that Nosko finds things to talk about to fill the time. If it puts him at ease, all to the better.
I half respond as I focus on the needles and the ink, tuning in to his discomfort levels.
Sitting back to see how the lines are coming along, I am once more confident that I’m doing some of my best work, even if the design is simple. “Was she married?”
Nosko is intently watching as the design slowly takes shape on his forearm. “Twice. Lost her first husband. No one knows to what. She never talked about it. Then she married my grandfather. That didn’t last long, either.”
“She lose him, too?”
There’s a pause before Nosko laughs. Damn, it’s nice to know someone who gets my sense of humor instead of being all pissed off and offended.
“Sort of?” he finally answers. “Turns out even car wrecks can take out a dragon if the damage is severe enough to their human form.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.”
“It’s okay. She decided after that she was done with the whole relationship thing and got involved politically.” Nosko leans back and closes his eyes. “She never gave up on love, but decided the pain was not worth the risk.”
“That’s a tough philosophy. Guess it didn’t stick with her kids.”
“I’m living proof. My parents are ridiculously in love. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her so much and her death hit me really hard but I didn’t agree with her.”
“You think love is worth the risk of getting hurt?”
“Yeah. I mean, you know, love is what makes all things worth it. What about you?”
I pause to straighten my back and roll my head to work out the tension from being hunched over. “Relationships?”
The question is obviously earnest and it’s hard to miss the hopefulness in Nosko’s eyes. If he was any other guy, dragon or not, that I had no interest in pursuing things with, I might even be a little pissed at the pressure.
Nosko isn’t any of those from my past. There is no mistaking he’s my fated mate.
And if there were any doubt, my dragon would remind me rather aggressively every time I look at Nosko.
I still don’t have an answer for him that would make sense. I don’t really know if I can put it into words if I did know. “I used to think relationships took time to develop.”
With Nosko intently watching me, I avoid his gaze by getting back to work. Having that to do is a good place of safety to work through these conflicting feelings.
“You don’t now?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
A chuckle. “Guess not.”
I leave the conversation there. Not that I’m avoiding the subject, although I probably am, just a little bit. But only because I really haven’t given it much more thought. It’s obvious Nosko has, and that puts me at a disadvantage, which is uncomfortable for me.
One thing that I can’t deny is this intense attraction I feel for Nosko. It doesn’t even cross my mind to fight it.
“Here’s the care instructions,” I say as Nosko buttons his shirt. He smooths his hand over the bandage and I smack his hand away. “Leave it alone. All I have left is color and you’ll be done. We can finish it up next week.”
“How much do I owe you?”
Yeah, this is the part I wasn’t looking forward to. This is my fated mate that I just inked. What exactly is the protocol for that? Half price? Free? Let him pay?
What kind of jerk makes his fated mate pay for a tattoo? This is stupid for me to even get upset about.
My dragon stirs restlessly and growls deep in the pit of my core in agreement.
“Drinks
,” I offer. “Unless you have to go back to work.”
Nosko puts his watch back on as he checks the time. “No, it’s fine. I closed the gallery before I came here.”
“So drinks it is. This time, I pick the place.”
Giving Bronaz a shout that I’m leaving, I steer Nosko out and direct him down the street. “A good place is just around the corner. Dragon owned. They even have pool tables, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Backgammon is more my speed,” Nosko says.
Nosko’s hand fits so perfectly in mine. I don’t mind being seen walking with him as he quizzes me on the best product to use on his tattoo once we’re done and how to properly care for it.
We push into The Air Lair and immediately the thump of the bass coming from the DJ’s station beats like a mother’s heartbeat. Even in a no-smoking zone, the air is thick with it. Part from the fog machine, part from the game of Dragon’s Fire at the far end of the bar. Humans and dragons alike test their mettle with the fiery concoctions, although dragons have the advantage. Humans are none the wiser, thinking that the dragons are just better at it or used to it.
Dangerous. But not surprising. Humans have that tendency to not think things through.
Although, I’m not really sure dragons are much better at it.
A table against the back wall opens up and I take the lead, cutting through the heavy crowd with confidence. Nosko’s grip tightens on my hand so we don’t lose each other.
Nosko once again saves us from the silence, finding conversation topics which have us talking like old friends. Maybe we were, long ago, in different incarnations of life.
It’s comfortable. It’s easy. I’m more at ease with him than I have been with anyone in a very long time.
This thrills me, and makes me uncomfortable.
We barely know each other and I find my thoughts drift to what it would be like to come home to Nosko every night. How my thoughts for the past few days have been filled with him and little else.
Then, there was the conversation about love in the shop. Stirring up all kinds of feelings that I’m not ready to process.
Alpha Dragon_Taran Page 3
