by Liv Rider
Noah was quiet, and Griffith could hear his brain turning. “Do you think it will be that easy for me?”
Griffith said honestly, “I don’t know. It’s different for everyone.” He pulled Noah closer to him. “You’ve got a lot of time tomorrow to think about this,” he reminded him.
“Mmm,” Noah said, turning his head slightly, a smile teasing his lips. “What did you have in mind?”
Griffith dipped his head to brush his lips against Noah’s. He tasted like the pepper from the steaks they’d had for dinner. Noah’s lips parted and Griffith dipped inside, tasting and teasing. He felt like a teenager again, necking on the couch, hoping his parents wouldn’t walk in and catch them at it. But it was so easy to get lost in Noah’s mouth that Griffith thought he could spend days there. Years.
Noah shifted, and his elbow jammed into Griffith’s ribs. “Sorry,” he murmured, at Griffith’s grunt.
Necking on the couch was fine when he was a teenager, but Griffith had since gotten used to more grownup amenities. “Let’s take this into the bedroom,” he said, and got an immediate murmur of agreement.
Somehow, they untangled themselves from each other and from the quilt, and Griffith led the way to the master bedroom. “Why is it so cold?” Noah asked, when Griffith opened the door and a blast of icy air met them.
The window. Shit. Griffith crossed the room to close it, but it would take hours for the heat from the woodstove to make its way through the ancient ducts to warm the room enough to sleep in.
“Change of plans,” he said decisively, and scooped up the duvet and pillows from the bed. They were chilly, but would warm more quickly than the room. He brought them back out to the living room and deposited them on the thick rug in front of the woodstove, then pulled the quilt from the couch for more cushioning.
Noah watched him silently. “You realize how ridiculously romantic this is, don’t you? Cozying up next to the fire? Watching the moon rise over the lake your family owns?”
“Never say I don’t know how to woo my mate.”
Noah crouched by their makeshift bed. “And it’s not even Valentine’s Day.”
“Come here,” Griffith said gruffly, pulling Noah to him. Noah overbalanced, ending up half on the duvet, half on Griffith. Griffith was just fine with that.
This was still new enough that every time they came together was like exploring uncharted territory. He maneuvered them so he could prop himself up on his elbow at Noah’s side. It was a view he’d never tire of: Noah’s gray eyes darkened into storm clouds, t-shirt clinging to long lean limbs. The t-shirt had ridden up above the waistband of Noah’s jeans, and Griffith took the invitation to trace the line of bare skin. Noah’s skin jumped and shivered under his fingers.
Noah’s eyelids were at half-mast. The bulge in his jeans was gratifyingly pronounced. Griffith played with the button to Noah’s jeans, tugging at the flap of denim until the button slipped slowly free.
“Are you going to get on with things or just tease?”
Griffith grinned. “I thought I’d tease for a bit.” He traced the seam of Noah’s fly and watched Noah’s eyes darken and his pulse jump at his throat. Noah’s lips parted ever so slightly when Griffith circled the outline of his cock; his eyes were beginning to glaze. His knees unconsciously spread to give Griffith better access.
Griffith took the zipper of Noah’s jeans between his fingers and inched it down.
Noah’s hips arched up with the slow parting of denim. Voice shot, he said, “I’m not going to last.”
Griffith definitely wanted this to last, so he didn’t resist when Noah grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward until their mouths met, Noah’s open and hungry against his.
Griffith’s dragon was just as hungry for his mate. Their last few weeks together had barely scraped the surface of it. He’d never felt such all-consuming need for another person; when they were apart, he was restless until they were together again. When they were together, he wanted as much as Noah could give him.
His jeans were beginning to constrict, so it was a relief to feel Noah’s fingers work his fly open, taking his time in retaliation for Griffith’s teasing. He relinquished Noah’s mouth long enough to push his jeans and boxers down and off, while Noah shifted his hips up to do the same. Shirts came off next, and then there was nothing between them but skin.
They were both flush from the fire and exertion, and Noah’s skin was hot under Griffith’s hands. He’d wanted to draw this out, but he needed to be inside Noah with an all-consuming purpose, and luckily Noah seemed to be on the same page. He grabbed Griffith’s hand and moved it to his hole. “Get me ready,” he murmured.
Griffith had to bite down on his lip to keep from coming. He didn’t have Noah’s excuse of age, either. The lube was in his jeans pocket, so he retrieved it from the pile of denim and slicked up his fingers, already anticipating the feel of Noah’s hot, tight muscle around him.
Noah propped one leg up to give Griffith access and lazily stroked his cock. His gray eyes were intent on Griffith as he knelt between his legs and slowly, carefully, pushed one finger inside. Griffith focused in on every flicker in Noah’s eyes, every hitch of breath. The connection that bound them together was written on his bones, and they’d be bound together even without this; Noah was as much a part of his soul as his dragon was. But to be physically joined made it that much more sublime.
He replaced one finger with two, and scissored them gently. He watched his fingers move in and out of Noah, fascinated by the sight. He found Noah’s prostate and pressed—and was rewarded with Noah’s quick gasp and thrust of hips, chasing the sensation.
He wanted to give Noah everything. The need was too big—his chest couldn’t contain it. He could only show it, like this, now and in the thousands of days they had to look forward to.
Noah was stretched enough, and Griffith couldn’t wait anymore. He lifted Noah’s hips and pressed the tip of his cock against Noah’s slicked-up hole.
“Okay?”
“Yes,” Noah groaned. “God, please—Griffith, now.”
Griffith was so hard that all he needed to do was push slightly to slide right inside Noah’s entrance. Noah grabbed the duvet in both hands. A shudder ran through his body. His hole clenched around Griffith, and Griffith closed his eyes, fighting for control.
When he had it again, he thrust in to the hilt, Noah’s heat cradling and enflaming him even more.
Orange fire licked across his skin, merging with Noah’s swirling white-hot dragon just below the surface. Noah’s sun dragon had no problem making itself known during sex, and with every thrust, Griffith’s own dragon reared up to meet it—he wanted to claim, to mark his mate again and again. Noah responded to his thrusts with equal zeal, leveraging against the floor to push down on Griffith’s cock.
“Shit…Griffith, I can’t….”
Noah’s hand worked frantically over his cock, and Griffith closed his hand around it. He thrust in as deep as he could go—and heard Noah’s gasp just as his own release took him, the hot fire of his dragon burning through his synapses as he pulsed deep inside Noah’s body.
He couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.
Noah
Noah woke to the sublime smell of frying bacon.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the wood in the stove had died down to embers. It was chilly on the floor without Griffith’s warmth, even with the duvet and quilt wrapped over him.
Griffith was in the kitchen with his back to Noah, standing over the small propane stove, the source of the rich, homey smell of eggs and bacon currently wafting through the room.
Noah found his jeans after some searching, and moved the duvet and quilt aside to pull them on. He made his way into the kitchen and propped his hip against the counter next to the stove. He took a moment to drink in the sight of his mate: Griffith’s thick blond hair, soulful brown eyes, the kind of body that spoke to years of hard work as a hunter tracking down shifters that broke human a
nd shifter law. Noah wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get so lucky.
“Morning,” Griffith said, with a sidelong look. His relaxed, happy smile made Noah’s chest tighten—it was a change from the Griffith he’d first met, and Noah still marveled that he’d played a role in that.
“Morning to you,” Noah said. Griffith was also in his jeans and nothing else, and Noah wondered that he wasn’t burning himself on the sizzling oil from the bacon. Not that he was complaining. “Are you trying to fortify me for all the dragon shifting I’ll be doing today?”
Griffith huffed a laugh. “It takes more energy than you think. And yes.”
Despite his forced optimism, Noah still wondered if he’d be able to make the shift. He’d never gone that far in his sessions with Sofia—she was more about small steps laying groundwork for the whole. Lots of meditation and getting in touch with his dragon, and letting his dragon out in small doses without setting the Avila Youth Center on fire. Learning to control his own strong emotional responses, which seemed to trigger his dragon in uncontrollable ways. When he’d lost control before, it was from the rage that Madoc had inspired in him, and the fear of what he might do to Griffith. It was only Griffith who’d been able to bring him back from that edge.
After breakfast, they spent the morning around the cabin, Griffith doing chores as part of the cabin’s maintenance, and Noah helping out where he could. He knew Griffith was giving him space to decide when he was ready—and that Griffith would spend weeks up here with him if Noah needed that much time.
Part of him was just as willing to take the reprieve, to put off the moment of reckoning just a few more hours, but the rest of him was angry with his procrastination. Putting it off wasn’t going to make it easier.
“I think I’m ready,” he said finally, sometime around mid-afternoon.
Griffith sat back on his heels, hammer and nail in hand. He was patching the roof of the woodshed while Noah handed him tools. He said carefully, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Noah said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. He was afraid if he put it off until tomorrow, he’d never find the courage.
“All right, then,” Griffith said.
They cleaned up and headed out to the clearing in front of the lake, Noah trying to contain his nerves. A slight breeze blew up from the water. Griffith was waiting patiently, as careful as he’d been all trip not to put any pressure on Noah.
He closed his eyes and tried to dig deep into that part of himself. His dragon had always been a hot white light inside him. A coil of suppressed power, both foreign and intimately familiar. It was a part of him, but it was also a part that had nearly consumed him and everyone around him.
Now, it was staying stubbornly hidden. The only thing Noah felt was foolish, standing in the middle of the yard with his eyes closed, all too aware of Griffith next to him.
He opened his eyes. “It’s not working.”
“Don’t rush it. This kind of thing takes time.”
Noah ran a hand over his face, impatient with himself despite Griffith’s reassurances. “Maybe if…maybe if you shifted first?”
If Griffith was surprised by the request, he didn’t show it. Noah realized that he’d never actually seen Griffith in dragon form. It felt suddenly like an intimate request—was there some etiquette around revealing your shifted form to someone else that he didn’t know about?
But if he’d committed a faux pas, Griffith didn’t seem to mind. “Sure,” he said, backing up a few steps.
Griffith closed his eyes just as Noah had done. Afternoon light caught on Griffith’s skin, and as Noah watched, it began to take on the golden shimmer of scales.
Then, soft light filled the clearing, momentarily obscuring Griffith’s transformation—beneath the veil of light, Noah watched him grow and elongate, thick golden appendages expanding from his back until they took on the graceful shape of wings, Griffith’s neck getting longer and longer and his face transforming into something…else.
Noah realized that he was face to face with a dragon.
An elegant snout attached to a flat, angular head and snaking neck lowered to Noah’s eye-height. With a sense of relief, Noah realized that even with the dragon eyes, the soft golden scales and flared nostrils, he would have known him for Griffith.
Noah reached out wonderingly to touch the dragon’s cheek. The scales were smaller and softer there, growing in size down the expanse of Griffith’s neck and glinting in the sun. Griffith pushed gently into Noah’s touch. His eyes were golden, but Noah saw the familiar soft brown beneath the glow.
He was beautiful. And he was his mate.
His sun dragon recognized his mate just as clearly as Noah. The mate mark Griffith had made on his abdomen began to burn, not painfully, but with a spreading warmth that reached into the core of him. Flames licked across his skin. Hot white fire surged deep inside him.
The last time this had happened, he’d nearly killed someone. He took a deep breath. He could control this. Not suppress it, as he had unconsciously for so many years, but control the shift like Sofia had been teaching him. Acknowledge his fears, and put them aside. Trust that this was who he was, and that it was just as natural for him as being human had been for so many years. Reach out to his dragon as a partner, not an adversary.
Something tugged at the skin and muscles of his back, and he saw with shock that wings were growing from his back.
Not the vast expanse of Griffith’s, but smaller and lighter; his body, when Noah looked down, was more serpent-like than Griffith’s classic dragon form. His scales burned with a whiter light: the yellow gold of the sun, versus Griffith’s deep burnished bronze.
Noah’s heart pounded in his throat; he couldn’t breathe. He screwed his eyes shut and realized that he was panicking.
Warm breath tickled his cheek. Noah took a deep breath and tried to slow his heartbeat. He forced his eyes open, and met Griffith’s soft orange ones. Griffith’s snout touched his.
I can do this.
He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, noses touching, while his heartbeat gradually slowed to a normal pace, Griffith’s warm breath calming and centering him.
As he steadied, he grew aware of another sensation building inside him. Lust.
Griffith was his mate, and Noah’s sun dragon knew it.
Like fire, awareness licked down his skin. Noah drew back and uncoiled his long tail from where it had grown, snake-like, and saw Griffith watching his every move, his dragon eyes filled with the same smoldering desire. Noah became suddenly aware of Griffith as a predator: not to eat him, but to claim him.
Noah wanted to make him work for it.
Griffith struck, and Noah just barely eluded him. His wings spread, angled to catch an updraft of air flowing in from the lake—and like that, he was aloft.
He heard a rumbling growl behind him, and knew Griffith had taken to the air after him.
His instinct to make Griffith chase him was strong enough to overwhelm the strangeness of suddenly being in the air, nothing between him and the glittering water beneath him. He wondered how he’d ever been afraid of this—it was glorious, blissful, and he’d never done anything that felt so right before.
He caught his reflection in the water below. When he looked down, he saw a blazing golden-white serpent, bits of fire from his skin falling to the water beneath him and leaving pools of steam in their wake. His body was long and snaking, ending in a forked tail he was unconsciously using to guide himself.
As he watched, entranced by his own reflection, he saw a larger one looming above: Griffith’s giant golden dragon, his long neck and forelegs swooping down to claim him.
Noah banked and slipped past the reaching claws and teeth. He flew with his wings close to his body: he was going for speed rather than height. If Griffith claimed the air above him, he’d be as good as taken.
He was faster than the larger dragon behind him, and could lead him on a merry chase for hours. But the lake that had
seemed so limitless as a human was fast running out: the trees along the far edge were growing closer and closer.
He felt Griffith’s hot breath on the back of his neck, closing in again for the claim
He banked again when the trees rushed at them, but he wasn’t fast enough. Griffith’s teeth closed around his neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to immobilize him, just as his claws fastened on Noah’s wings where they met his shoulder blades.
Noah tucked and rolled, nearly breaking Griffith’s grip, but the other dragon had too firm a hold.
Trees rushed dizzyingly at them. They were in a plummeting spiral headed for the not-so-soft landing of the far bank. Noah braced for the impact—and at the last minute he felt himself lifted, heard the whoosh as Griffith’s wings caught enough air to slow their fall, felt the strain of skin and muscle throughout Griffith’s body, plastered against his.
They fell, gently tumbling, to the grassy bank in a tangle of human limbs.
Noah blinked. He was pinned down by Griffith’s legs, the soft grass and earth cool beneath his vulnerable human flesh. They were both naked. Every brush of skin ignited a trail of fire. Griffith was hard, his cock lodged against Noah’s hip, and Noah was so aroused he thought he might lose it right here.
He looked up at Griffith’s intense, triumphant expression and choked off his bubbling laughter left over from the joy of the flight. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet,” Griffith said darkly, pinning Noah’s wrists to the earth. He loomed above him, his eyes still bright with dragon fire, and Noah’s dragon responded in kind.
Deliberately, he bared his neck—and heard Griffith’s quick indrawn breath at the submission.
He wasn’t sure what to expect, if he’d feel Griffith’s teeth at his throat in a more primal marking than the mate mark below his ribs. Instead, soft lips ghosted along the bared skin, tracing the line of Noah’s acquiescence. Griffith’s murmured, “I love you,” made Noah’s heart clench in unexpressed joy.
