27. Wet Dog Smell
Wet Dog Smell
Present Day
Cian
For the entire two-and-a-half-minute drive back to his house, Mash stared at me, his thumbnail tucked between his teeth as he tried to hide his smile. I’d seen this expression on him a thousand times before. This was his horny-as-fuck expression. It had never been directed at me before, though.
And fuck, that felt so good. To be the object of Mash’s desires.
The sheer number of times I’d prayed he would turn around and point those big green eyes towards me, bite his thumbnail, give me that dirty little laugh.
We parked up, and Mash dragged me by my wrist inside the house. I paused outside to tuck my erection into the waistband of my trousers in case anyone was in the kitchen when we marched through.
They were. Kimmy leant against the island, sawdust in her hair, pint of beer in her hand, as she chatted to Riley.
“Hi, sunshine,” Kimmy said when she saw Mash. “Boys,” she corrected when I followed him in.
Mash continued to march me through. “Can’t stop and chat. We had an accident in the woods and we need to clean up.”
“Oh, gods!” I turned my face away from the women so I wouldn’t have to look into their eyes.
“Why did you say that to them?” I asked when we got to Mash’s bedroom.
“They’re werewolves. They can smell it for themselves.”
“Fuck.” So gross. “That’s your mum.”
“I know, that’s why I didn’t hang about.” Mash stripped his tank off.
Every thought I’d just had about his mum and the mess in his shorts was wiped from my mind as I took in the whole of him. This was really happening.
Holy shit, this was really happening.
Mash crossed the bedroom in two strides and pulled my T-shirt over my head. “I’ve imagined doing this for so long.”
I wanted to say, “Me too.” I ached to say it. But I couldn’t let Mash know the extent of my obsession. We needed to take things at his pace, whatever that might be. I was simply grateful for a morsel of his affections.
Instead I said, “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” he replied with his bassy laugh, as though he was thankful I’d brought it up. “I’ve never been with a guy. And I want to make sure . . . you’re getting what you need.”
“We’ll go slow.” I couldn’t think what else to say, because just being here with him was more than I ever needed.
“Like, um . . . should I prep? And like . . . how? What do I do?” Fuck, he was so cute.
“We’re not going to fuck tonight, okay? So we can talk about prep another time.”
“Okay,” he breathed.
“Let’s get you in the shower and cleaned up.”
In my nine years of living with Mash, and often sharing a thin bedroom wall, I’d learned a few things about him. There were only so many times I could wear headphones around my own apartment. Plus, anything I missed out on hearing with my own ears, Mash would fill me in on at breakfast.
He was a very generous lover. Always made sure his date came before him—sometimes twice or more—and he enjoyed being told what to do. Not in a Dom-sub kind of way, but he was very much a good boy. Often, the noisiest part of Mash’s love life was his tail pounding against the wall.
I doubted a lot had changed in the six years since we’d moved into our own apartments.
“Shorts off,” I said.
“Yes, m—sir. Sorry, force of habit,” he said.
“It’s fine. You’re doing great.”
He beamed at me and pulled off his trainers and socks. I kicked off my own boots, undid my belt, and my trousers and underpants dropped to the ground. Mash pulled his shorts over his erection and down to the floor, making an effort to scrape most of the congealing cum away with the fabric.
I didn’t let myself think about what any of this meant. Didn’t let the doubts creep in. I knew they were there, yet whenever I heard the word “but” echo through my mind, I squashed it down. Blitzed it into dust. Like coffee beans in a grinder.
There would be a time and a place for buts. Not now, though.
I took him through to the bathroom and hit the “water on” switch. Mash watched me curiously. His unfocused eyes drifted over my naked skin, a smile on his face that I knew was his dopamine-rush smile. It was the same spacey grin he gave me when he was stoned, or when I cooked for him, or when I finger-combed his hair.
“I don’t know if it’s inappropriate to tell a dude he’s pretty, but you are. So beautiful.” Mash cradled my jaw and brought his lips down to mine again, and he walked me backwards until we were both standing under the “rainfall” setting of the shower head.
When he kissed me, he pressed his entire body to mine, crowding into every millimetre of space between us, as though he were trying to absorb me osmotically into his skin.
The water hit Mash first. It gushed down his bent neck and shoulders, rushing in rivulets between our mouths. But it was fine. I didn’t need to breathe. I could stop breathing right now and know my last moments were lived in absolute bliss.
He bucked his hips into mine, the head of his cock slipped against my stomach. Mine nudged his hipbone. Our knots, mine at the base and his either side, seemed to slot together like stacking doughnuts, one on top of the other.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said, pulling away to catch his breath.
“Me neither,” I admitted.
I would have gone an entire lifetime beside Mash as a friend—a close friend, but a friend nonetheless—and I’d have been happy. That in itself would have been reward enough. But to finally be on the other end of Mash’s affections was everything. It was peak life. Peak happiness. Nothing could take away from this moment. And I would let nothing take me out of it.
The world could burn down outside Howling Pines and I wouldn’t find a single fuck to give. I was not moving from this shower, from Mash’s arms, until we were both panting and spent, lying on the tiled floor.
If death came for either of us now, it would have to fucking wait.
“I need to look at you,” I said, spinning our positions around so that Mash’s back was against the wall.
I knew this body so well, yet I was used to stealing covert glances at it. Spying on his perfection whilst he was looking the other way. Even though Mash never attempted to hide any part of his physique from me, I always felt as though I was peeping.
Now I could stare without restrictions. Without feeling like a pervert banking up images of his best friend.
Mash was incredible. Taller than the day we first met, more muscular, hairier. So much hairier. Light, sandy-blonde fur covered his entire torso. Sparse enough to still see every line and ridge of his muscles and the tattoo in the centre of his chest, but thick enough for my fingers to get completely lost in.
And get lost they did. I dug my fingertips in, scraping his skin with my short nails, tracking the contours. Water coursed over my hands. I moved them to his shoulders, behind his neck, into his hair, and tugged his head to the side so that I could bury my nose against his nape and breathe in the scent of us, slightly dampened by the running water and fading a little—the last time we did the pee thing was almost a week ago—but he still smelled incredible.
We still smelled incredible. But I had the sudden urge to reinforce my wolfish claim on him.
“Mash, does cum strengthen the mate-bond scent?”
He nodded. “Not as much as piss, I think, but yes, it will.”
“So . . . if I cover myself in your cum, people will know I’m yours?”
Mash growled, actually growled, and seized my hands, holding them above my head against the tiles on the opposite wall. He dragged his mouth from my human ears to the divot at the base of my neck, pinning my hips, rocking his erection against mine.
He took his kisses down my torso, pausing at each of my tattoos, getting farther down my chest until he was near my stomach. I got the sense he was making his way to my dick, but I’d spent so long imagining all the ways I would make Mash fall to pieces if given half a chance, I wasn’t prepared to relinquish that control yet.
Tonight was all about him.
I pushed him away from my body by the shoulders. He blinked up at me, surprise and possible hurt in his eyes.
“I need you to fuck my mouth,” I said, like the idea had popped into my head only that second and I hadn’t been dreaming about choking on his cock for fifteen years. I pulled him upright and dropped to my knees.
“Oh my gods. You don’t have to,” he said.
Mash was a giver. I’d known that for so long. Even though it would be his first time giving a blow job, he’d want this to be the other way around.
“I know,” I said simply. I gazed up at his perfection. The shower water cascaded off him, tracked down his torso and thighs. His cock hung heavy and fat between us. His knots looked so big and swollen that they appeared painful.
I ran my fingers up the muscles of his thighs and laid a kiss against one of his knots. Mash cried out, his back flattened against the tiles. I kissed the other, flicked my tongue between them, cupped them with my palms, and licked up Mash’s cock. Then I buried the head in my mouth.
One of his hands threaded into my hair, gripping it tightly. The other braced against the ceiling, his biceps flexed like he was already holding himself back from coming. Mash was a big guy. Tall, with muscles everywhere, and a massive cock. I swallowed it down as far as I could take him—to the top of his knots.
I kept replaying the memory from earlier when Mash came in his shorts . . . just from kissing me. I couldn’t stop picturing his expression when he fell apart. How his brows seemed to arch in surprise. How his lips formed the perfect O shape. How his eyes never left mine, like he’d been searching for something within my soul and had, at that precise moment, found it.
I needed to see that again, needed to make Mash break at least once more. I continued sucking him, moving my mouth up and down on his cock. He alternated between tipping his head back and moaning, and caressing my cheeks with his thumbs while watching me work him into a frenzy.
He was getting close, his breath hitching, his stomach muscles spasming, his cock swelling, his knots growing to an almost unimaginable size. I was so close to breaking myself.
“Oh, fuck. Oh my fucking gods. Ci, you’re so good at this. Holy shit. Feels so fucking . . .”
I caressed his knots with one hand, while jerking myself with the other, moaning my ecstasy onto his cock.
“Fuck, Ci, fuck. You gotta stop, I’m gonna come. Oh gods, fuck, Ci.”
I looked up at him.
“Gods, you look so good on your knees for me. Can I come in your mouth?”
“Mmhmm,” I said, nodding slightly but not taking myself off him.
“Fuck. Are you gonna swallow?”
This time I shook my head a little, but Mash caught the smile in my eyes.
“Oh, gods!” he cried out. His back arched off the wall and his release hit my tongue.
I held it in my mouth as he continued to moan towards the shower ceiling, and I gently sucked him until his shoulders sagged.
After I let him go—careful not to spit the cum out too soon—I pushed to my feet and pulled his lips down to mine. Then I buried my tongue in his mouth.
Mash’s cum gushed into his open mouth, down both our chins, and dripped onto my chest. He whimpered at the taste of himself and dug his tongue into my mouth, seeking more. I made sure to angle our heads away from the deluge of shower water.
Then I swiped my hand up over his neck, his chin, his lips, dipped two fingers inside his mouth to scrape up any remnants, and then I rubbed Mash’s release onto my neck and collarbone as though it were moisturiser.
“Gods, fuck, why is that so hot?” he said, before pushing his nose against my pulse point. “We smell like we belong together.” I didn’t think he knew what he’d said.
I threaded my fingers into his hair and guided him to his knees. He seemed to know instinctively what I was asking him to do, and lowered himself until he was balancing over his heels, his face in line with my chest so he could watch me fucking my own hand.
I jerked myself quickly, mesmerised as Mash’s gaze flitted between my cock and my face. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and flashed me that same contented dopamine smile of his.
“We smell like we belong together.”
I fell, over that peak, Mash’s name on my lips as I striped his chest with my orgasm.
“Oh, baby,” he said, stroking his fingers up his abdominals to collect my cum, kneading it into his collarbone as I had done.
Then, without taking his eyes off me, he sucked two fingers into his mouth.
I bent down to his level and swiped my tongue across his chin, then kissed him so I could taste both of us at the same time. Mash pulled me on top of him, and we kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Until all the cum had washed from our bodies. Until my face was numb again from the scratch of his stubble. Until the water ran cold. Until both our knots had fulfilled their purpose and deflated.
Eventually, Mash switched the water off and fetched us both towels. We said nothing to each other; we simply smiled and laughed as we dried. Mash scrubbed the towel over his hair and got into bed naked.
“We’ve already completely destroyed our friendship. You might as well back that thing into me,” he said.
So I did, scooting along under the blanket until his soft cock was nestled against the top of my thighs.
He draped his arm over me, pushed his nose into the crook of my neck, and breathed in deeply. “We really smell amazing together.”
Less than five minutes later, Mash was asleep. He’d left the lamp on. I stared at the veins in his forearm and tried not to think about his words.
“We’ve already completely destroyed our friendship.”