Chapter Nine
“That’s…proportionally concerning.”
Vaughn’s hand covered his, guiding fingers to wrap around the outline through fabric. Heat radiated through the cotton, the shape of him heavy and insistent against Newt’s palm. His cock gave an interested twitch, apparently less broken than initially diagnosed.
“Still want to continue?” Vaughn’s voice had dropped an octave, rough enough to scrape against Newt’s remaining brain cells.
Instead of answering, Newt hooked fingers into the waistband and tugged. The boxers slid down, catching briefly before Vaughn lifted his hips to help. Then there it was, his mate’s cock springing free, thick and flushed and demanding attention.
Definitely proportionally concerning.
“Right then.” Newt wet his lips, studying the situation like it might bite. Which, given the size, seemed possible. “Any particular technique I should know about? Besides ‘don’t use teeth’ which seems obvious but worth confirming.”
“Just—” Vaughn’s words cut off as Newt wrapped tentative fingers around the base. “That. That works.”
Skin slid against skin, velvet soft over steel hardness. Newt gave an experimental stroke, watching Vaughn’s face for clues. His mate’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath stubbled skin. Good sign? Bad sign? The instruction manual really needed clearer indicators.
Leaning down required some creative positioning, but Newt managed it. The first touch of tongue to heated flesh made Vaughn’s hips jerk. Salt and musk flooded his senses, not unpleasant but definitely intense. He licked again, tracing the prominent vein along the underside.
“Fuck.” The word punched out of Vaughn, fingers tangling in cotton-candy strands.
Taking that as encouragement, Newt wrapped his lips around the head. The stretch made his jaw ache immediately. How had Vaughn made this look easy? Physics alone suggested problems, but backing down now seemed cowardly. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking experimentally.
The sound Vaughn made defied description. Something between a growl and a whimper that sent answering heat straight to Newt’s reawakening cock. He sucked harder, tongue working against the sensitive underside the way Vaughn had done to him.
Fingers tightened in his hair. Not painful, just present, guiding him into a rhythm that made Vaughn’s breathing go ragged. Each slide down took him deeper, until the head bumped the back of his throat and he had to pull off, coughing.
“Easy.” Vaughn’s thumb brushed his cheek. “Don’t have to take it all.”
“Competitive nature,” Newt gasped, wiping his mouth. “Give me a second.”
He dove back down, finding a sustainable rhythm. Bob and suck, tongue swirling on the upstroke. His jaw protested, but Vaughn’s bitten-off curses made the discomfort worthwhile. Power thrummed through him, unexpected and heady. He did this. Made his composed mate fall apart with just his mouth.
The realization sent fresh arousal pooling in his belly. His cock filled completely, pressing against his stomach as he worked Vaughn’s shaft. Each sound his mate made fed the heat building under his skin.
Without warning, Vaughn’s hands tightened. He pulled Newt off with a wet pop that would have been embarrassing if not for the wild look in his eyes.
“What—” Newt started.
“Up.” Vaughn hauled him onto the bed properly, movements sharp with intent. “Clothes off.”
The borrowed shirt disappeared over his head before Newt could process the command. Cool air hit heated skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature. Vaughn stripped with efficient movements, tossing his clothes aside without care for where they landed.
Naked, his mate looked like something out of Newt’s most private fantasies. All lean muscle and coiled strength, cock jutting proud between powerful thighs. Newt’s mouth went dry even as other parts of him got decidedly less dry.
“Admiring the view?” Vaughn prowled onto the bed, caging Newt beneath him.
“Cataloging for future reference.” The words came out breathier than intended. “In case this is a hallucination brought on by vampire-induced stress.”
“Not a hallucination.” Vaughn’s mouth found his throat, teeth grazing over his pulse. “Though we should probably discuss the virgin thing.”
“Already did. You were there for the dramatic revelation, remember?”
“I mean logistics.” Lips moved lower, mapping collarbones with focused attention. “How much do you know about…this?”
Heat flooded Newt’s face. “I’ve seen things. Drawings. One very educational tapestry in the palace library before they removed it for cleaning.”
“Tapestry.” Vaughn’s laugh vibrated against his chest. “Of course.”
“It was very detailed! The thread work alone—” Words dissolved into a gasp as Vaughn’s mouth closed around a nipple. “That’s cheating again.”
“No rules against it.” Teeth worried the sensitive peak while fingers found its twin, rolling and pinching until Newt’s hips bucked off the bed.
Sensation scattered his thoughts like startled birds. Every touch felt magnified, each brush of skin against skin sending sparks through overloaded nerves. His cock leaked steadily against his stomach, desperate for friction.
Vaughn’s hand slid lower, bypassing where Newt wanted it most to press behind his balls. One finger circled his entrance, dry and careful, making him tense.
“Relax.” Vaughn’s voice rumbled against his chest. “Need to get you ready.”
“Ready for—oh.” Understanding dawned with a mix of anticipation and concern. “Right. That’s happening. The thing with the…positioning.”
“Such a romantic.” But Vaughn smiled as he leaned over to the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. “This helps.”
The first touch of slick fingers made Newt jump. Cool gel warmed quickly against his skin as Vaughn circled his entrance with maddening patience. Not pushing in, just touching, letting him adjust to the sensation.
“Still good?” Vaughn asked.
“Besides the part where you’re taking forever? Fantastic.”
Pressure increased. One finger breached him, sliding in with less resistance than expected. The intrusion felt strange but not painful, just…different. Full in a way that made his cock twitch with interest.
“Breathe.” Vaughn’s free hand stroked his thigh. “Just breathe through it.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with fingers in unprecedented places. But Newt tried, pulling air into his lungs as that finger worked deeper, exploring territory that had definitely never seen visitors.
A second finger joined the first. The stretch burned slightly, muscles protesting the unfamiliar invasion. Newt shifted, trying to find a comfortable angle, and suddenly stars exploded behind his eyelids.
“Holy fuzzy! What was that?”
“That would be your prostate.” Vaughn crooked his fingers again, hitting the same spot with unerring accuracy.
Pleasure crashed through him, electric and overwhelming. His cock jerked, leaking steadily as Vaughn found that spot again and again. Each press sent lightning up his spine, whiting out rational thought.
“Can’t…too much…” Words fragmented as a third finger joined the others, stretching him wider.
“You can.” Vaughn’s mouth found his hip, biting down just hard enough to ground him. “Doing so well.”
The praise shouldn’t have affected Newt, but warmth bloomed in his chest alongside the physical pleasure. He bore down on those fingers, chasing the sensation despite the burn. His body opened for his mate, accepting the intrusion, welcoming it.
“Think you’re ready.” Vaughn withdrew his fingers, leaving Newt empty and wanting.
“Think? You think?” Newt glared up at him. “After all that, you’re not sure?”
“Want to be thorough.” But Vaughn was already slicking himself, hand moving over his cock in long strokes that made Newt’s mouth water.
“Any more thorough and I’ll combust.” He spread his legs wider in blatant invitation. “Come on already.”
Vaughn settled between his thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Newt’s entrance. Even prepared, the size difference sent a flutter of concern through his stomach. This was happening. Actually happening. His virginity's last moments, and he was spending them panicking about logistics.
The first push stole his breath. Pressure built as Vaughn pressed forward, stretching him impossibly wide. Not pain exactly, but intensity that bordered on too much. His fingers dug into Vaughn’s shoulders, short nails leaving crescents in tanned skin.
“Breathe,” Vaughn reminded him, holding frustratingly still. “Need you to relax.”
“Relaxing would be easier if you weren’t impaling me with a battering ram.”
“Dramatic.” But Vaughn’s hand found his cock, stroking slowly. “Focus on this.”
The dual sensation scrambled Newt’s circuits. Pleasure from the stroking warred with the overwhelming fullness as Vaughn sank deeper. Inch by careful inch, until hip met hip and Newt felt split open in the best possible way.
“Fuck.” The profanity escaped without permission. “That’s. You’re. Very present.”
“Present?” Vaughn’s laugh sounded strained. “That’s one way to put it.”
They stayed frozen for long moments, Newt adjusting to the invasion while Vaughn clearly fought for control. Sweat beaded on his mate’s forehead, muscles trembling with the effort of stillness.
Experimentally, Newt shifted his hips. The movement sent Vaughn’s cock dragging against that spot inside, and his vision whited out briefly.
“Do that again,” Newt demanded.
Vaughn pulled back slowly, then pushed forward. The slide felt easier this time, friction eased by lube and Newt’s body accepting the intrusion. Another thrust, angle perfect, and pleasure sparked through him like touching a live wire.
“Better?” Vaughn’s voice had gone rough, control fraying at the edges.
“Getting there.” Newt wrapped his legs around Vaughn’s waist, pulling him deeper. “Maybe faster would help.”
“Faster.” The word came out half-laugh, half-growl. “If you say so.”
The pace increased. What started as careful became demanding, each thrust driving deeper. Newt gave up on coherent thought, lost in the slide of flesh against flesh, the building pressure that threatened to tear him apart in the best way.
His cock bounced between them with each impact, leaking steadily. When Vaughn wrapped a hand around it, stroking in time with his thrusts, Newt saw stars.
“Close,” he gasped. “Really, really close.”
“Good.” Vaughn’s teeth found his throat, not biting yet but threatening. “Want to feel you.”
The words should not have pushed him closer to the edge, but they did. Everything narrowed to sensation—Vaughn inside him, around him, the building pressure that demanded release. His balls drew tight, that familiar tension coiling at the base of his spine.
“Vaughn—”
Teeth sank into the junction of neck and shoulder, breaking skin.
They crashed together in a supernova that obliterated every thought from Newt’s head. His cock pulsed between them, release hitting with the force of a sledgehammer. Each spurt painted white streaks across his stomach while his body clenched around Vaughn’s shaft, drawing him impossibly deeper.
Vaughn’s rhythm faltered, hips jerking erratically as Newt’s inner muscles rippled around him. The groan that tore from his throat vibrated against the fresh bite mark, sending aftershocks through Newt’s oversensitive system.
Something shifted in the air between them. A pulse that had nothing to do with their racing hearts and everything to do with the invisible thread that had connected them since that first meeting. Energy crackled across Newt’s skin, raising every hair on his body.
From his chest, a tendril of mist began to rise. Pale violet, delicate as spun sugar, it wavered in the air like smoke caught in a nonexistent breeze. Another tendril emerged from Vaughn’s chest—deep amber shot through with threads of copper that caught the light.
“What—” Newt’s question died as the two ribbons found each other.
They danced in the space between their bodies, twining together in a spiral that defied physics.
Violet and amber merged without mixing, creating patterns that hurt to look at directly.
The tendrils pulsed with their heartbeats, and suddenly Newt felt it—Vaughn’s heart hammering in perfect synchronization with his own.
Two hearts beating as one, the rhythm so perfectly aligned it became impossible to tell where his ended and Vaughn’s began.
The intertwined ribbons hung suspended for a breathless moment.
Then they moved, striking like serpents.
The amber ribbon dove into Newt’s chest, while the violet one shot into Vaughn’s.
There was no pain, just warmth spreading from the point of entry, flooding through veins and settling into bones.
Vaughn gasped above him, eyes wide with the same wonder Newt felt.
The connection between them solidified, becoming something tangible.
Not just the physical joining of their bodies but something deeper.
Newt could feel Vaughn’s emotions bleeding through—possessiveness, satisfaction, and, underneath it all, a love so fierce it stole his breath.
“Mine,” Vaughn growled, the word reverberating through their new bond.
“Yours,” Newt agreed, though the word felt inadequate for what they’d just become to each other.
Vaughn’s hips stuttered, control finally snapping. He drove deep one final time, Newt’s name on his lips as he found his own release. Heat flooded Newt’s insides, marking him in ways that went beyond the physical.
For long moments they stayed frozen, bodies locked together while their hearts continued their synchronized dance. Sweat cooled on overheated skin.
Then Newt felt it. A shimmer in the air. A disturbance that had him scrambling for his clothes. “Get dressed!”
To his shock, Vaughn listened, tossing on his jeans just as a portal opened and his father stepped through.
Chapter Ten
Newt couldn’t believe his father was standing there.
Then again, he could. Hershel was all about himself, never giving any thought or regard to what his son wanted or desired.
That never mattered to his father. Pure instinct drove Newt to place himself between Hershel and Vaughn, though the absurdity of protecting a wolf shifter from a fae with delusions of grandeur wasn’t lost on him.
His bare feet slapped against the floor as he scrambled forward, still yanking his borrowed shirt down over his stomach.
Hershel Twistboot’s face contorted like he’d bitten into something rotten. His gaze raked over the rumpled bed, the scattered clothes, and finally settled on Newt’s disheveled appearance with disgust that could've curdled milk.
“What in the seven realms is going on here?” The words cracked through the air like a whip. “Newton Aloysius Twistboot, you will explain yourself this instant!”
Oh good, the full name. That always meant a delightful conversation was about to unfold. Newt’s stomach clenched, years of conditioning making him want to shrink into himself. Behind him, he sensed Vaughn’s tension, could practically feel the heat radiating from his mate's body.
“Father, I—” The familiar pattern of submission started automatically, words of apology already forming on his tongue.
“You’ve broken sacred law by leaving our realm without permission!” Hershel’s voice climbed higher with each word. “And now I find you here, half-dressed, consorting with a…a mutt?”
The slur hit like a physical blow. Newt’s hands balled into fists, fingernails cutting crescents into his palms.
“I can explain—”
“There is nothing to explain.” Hershel stepped fully through the portal, which shimmered and vanished behind him. “You’re coming home. Now.”
Behind Newt, bedsprings creaked as Vaughn shifted his weight. The sound sent a spike of panic through him. His father couldn’t know about the bond. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Father, please, just listen—”
“I’ve heard enough.” Hershel’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Newt’s wrist with bruising force. “We’re leaving.”
Pain lanced up Newt’s arm as his father’s grip tightened. The bandages Quinn had so carefully applied last night pressed into raw skin, and he couldn’t suppress the cry that escaped his lips.
Everything happened fast after that.
A snarl ripped through the room, primal and terrifying. Vaughn moved with predatory grace, one hand clamping around Hershel’s throat before the older fae could blink.
“Let. Him. Go.” Each word dropped from Vaughn’s lips like stones into still water.
After a heartbeat that stretched like taffy, his father released Newt’s wrist. His hands flew to his neck, eyes bulging with shock.
Hershel’s face flushed purple, hands scrabbling at the fingers cutting off his air supply.
Vaughn’s hand remained exactly where it was.
“My son,” Hershel wheezed, “is not mated to a mutt.”