35. I Peed on It, so It’s Mine
I Peed on It, so It’s Mine
Present Day
Mash
“Ican’t believe it. The great Mash Cassidy settled down. Pre-mated. I thought you were like me, man. Figured we’d be lone wolves forever.”
Sam was beautiful. More beautiful than I remembered, and perhaps it was the wisdom—the life—now etched into her features that was to blame. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl any more, she was a thirty-four-year-old woman. With a thirty-four-year-old woman’s body, and a thirty-four-year-old woman’s confidence.
If this had been another time—a few years ago maybe—we’d have wasted little effort jumping back into bed together. But everything was different now. I was different. I understood things about myself that I hadn’t been able to come to grips with before, and there was only one person I wanted now in that way.
And I wouldn’t risk what little time I had left with him for anything.
“Sam Dixon, fancy seeing you here. You’re looking—as always—radiant as fuck.”
“Why, thank you. I do try,” she said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I’m obsessed with your new look.”
“My new look?” I asked.
“This.” She motioned a hand towards my upper lip.
“Oh, the tash?”
“So new you forgot you had it?” she said. The wings of her eyeliner crinkled with her laughter.
I smoothed the bristles out with my forefinger and thumb. “Ci likes it. You still single?” I brushed the collar of her blouse aside to reveal a mate-bite-free neck.
“Perpetually. Terminally.”
“I thought that was your jam?” I said.
“It is.” Her fingers slid up my bicep, but she wasn’t flirting—I knew in my gut—this was just how Sam had always been. Basically, a feminine version of me, but a thousand times hotter. “I could never be tamed. Though I was in a polycule for a couple of years, but it didn’t work out. So, Cian, aye? Tell me about him.”
I bit my lip in anticipation, and shot Ci a quick glance. He was busy with Clem in the jacket-potato trailer, serving a customer I recognised as one of the Stewall pack.
I hadn’t seen Sam in over a decade and a half, but something deep in the marrow of my bones told me to be honest about my feelings. Like she would listen to me, and she wouldn’t pass judgement either way. She’d be a friend.
“Well, I met him my first year of uni. We were roommates.”
“Did you know then that he was your mate? I’ve heard that some wolves just know. They can smell it on the other person.”
“I had no clue,” I said. “But he made me feel . . . strange. Different. From that very first moment. And then as time went on, I got more and more confused about my sexuality. I thought, okay maybe I’m bi, but I never wanted another dude in that way. Ever.”
“So, you’re demi? With guys, I mean.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think I’m gay enough to be fully bi.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works. You’re either queer, or not. I don’t think you need to qualify for it by being a certain level of gay, like, there’s no test. No one’s going to tell you you’re not queer enough. Actually, that’s a lie. People say that kinda shit to me all the time, but fuck them, they’re trash.”
“Hmm,” I said. Made sense. Who needed gatekeepers?
“Anyway, I don’t want to know about your bi panic. I want to hear more about the man who lassoed Mash Cassidy.”
“Okay, so we met in uni . . .” While I caught Sam up on the history of Bangers and Mash, she tucked into her baked potato and I kept one eye trained on Cian. He seemed to be having a rather animated discussion with Clem, waving a metal scoop around. Sometimes bits of cheese flew about the place.
“He’s gorgeous, by the way,” Sam said. “My boy’s done good. I especially love his glasses. Never seen a werewolf with glasses before, but he looks great.”
A jolt of nerves speared my stomach. She was right, werewolves didn’t wear glasses. Our eyesight was twenty-twenty. Not until we got to Nana’s age did it typically start to deteriorate. Yet, nobody had mentioned the glasses. Maybe everyone assumed they were a style choice.
“He’s the perfect opposite of you,” Sam went on.
“He is,” I said with a sigh.
“There’s a but there.”
I sighed again. How did she know? “It’s why I’ve been putting off moving back for so long. He’s not cut out for this country living. It’s not fair of me to ask him to move here with me. To give up everything.”
Sam held up a finger. “One, he’s your mate. He will follow you wherever you go. And two, looks like he’s getting on fine as it is.”
He did, actually, chatting away to my sister. In fact, I’d seen Ci smile more over the past six weeks in Howling Pines than I think I had during the fifteen years of living in Remy. It gave me pause. Would he be okay here with me? Without the convenience of the city? The anonymity? The diversity, the variation, the pace?
Would he be okay without the job opportunities?
No, of course not. It was selfish of me to entertain that idea for even a second. I couldn’t ask him to give up those things.
“So you’re not staying? You’re going with him back to the city?” Sam moved into my space, pressing her chest against mine, her mouth near my ear. But again, she wasn’t flirting. Her body language was more threatening. “You would really put your pack through a power battle? Mash, you of all people should know not to go falling in love with city types.”
“I’m not going back to Remy,” I said, before Sam could climb any higher on her horse. “At least not to live there. I’ll only go back to sell my apartment and my car and pack up, I guess. I’m going to accept the alpha call at the Hunter’s Moon next month. I would do it tomorrow, but I need a little more time with him.”
“Oh, babes.” Sam wrapped her hand around the base of my neck, stroking gentle circles with her thumb. “You know what happens to wolves who are separated from their mates, don’t you?”
“I’m fully aware.” And I was, but it wouldn’t affect us like that. We weren’t mates. Weren’t even technically pre-mated. “We haven’t swapped mate bites yet, so . . .” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence.
Sam seemed to understand, regardless. “You’ve got nothing to lose by asking him to stay. He can only say no.”
I nodded, knowing full well I wouldn’t ask him.
“He smells great on you, by the way,” Sam said with a heavy sigh. The kind of sigh a person does when they know the other person is royally fucked and they’re out of legitimate advice.
“Right,” I agreed.
“What’s going on here?” Cian said, suddenly appearing behind me. He wasn’t smiling any more.
Sam pulled away from me, putting three feet of space between us, but her rabbit-in-the-headlights expression showed she thought the damage had already been done. My “mate” had caught us embracing.
“Bangers, this is—”
“Sam, yes, we’ve met,” he said matter-of-factly. Holy shit, he was jealous. And triple holy shit, he was fucking gorgeous when he was jealous. All brooding, moody, dark hair, and scowl. “Your ex-girlfriend.”
“Honestly, we were never like that,” Sam said, the panic clear in the wobble of her speech.
She was right. We weren’t ever anything close to boyfriend and girlfriend, and I should tell Cian that. Put his mind—and Sam’s—at ease. But . . .
Part of me wanted to see how far I could push him, how far I could take it, and what he’d do when he snapped. Jealous Cian was hot as fuck, and I was getting very, very inappropriate thoughts about him now.
“Not my ex. We never dated, but we hooked up a lot,” I said, watching the muscles in Cian’s jaw twitch as he ground his teeth. “Like all the time.” I had to clamp my mouth shut to stop my smile from giving everything away.
“Oh, what’s that? Someone on the other side of Lykos needs me? I’ll be right there!” Sam said. She called out the last part to no one in particular, and before either of us had a chance to say anything, she jogged away from us.
I took in a gulp of air and pursed my lips even tighter.
Cian hooked his fingers around the collar of my T-shirt and tugged downwards, pulling my face close to his. “You’re mine,” he growled.
Growled.
In an instant, the grin was wiped from my face, replaced by immediate, debilitating mega-horn. Now it wasn’t merely a curiosity—to see how far I could push him—but a need. I needed him to claim me. With every molecule of my being.
To show me what “mine” meant.
“I know I’m being out of line,” he whispered, his jaw still clenched. “But seeing you with her—with anyone else—it makes my inner wolf rage. When I go back to Remy, you can fuck whoever you want, but while we’re here playing this game of fake mates, you belong to me.”
Gods, yes.
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked.
“I’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
A guttural moan slipped from my throat. Cian could only be referring to one thing. I shouldn’t have been so turned on by the idea, but I was already hard, my pulse spiking, my breath catching.
Cian manoeuvred himself behind me. He placed a splayed palm in the centre of my back and began guiding me away from the party area.
It was still early, but I knew we wouldn’t be coming back to the feast, and I was too horny to say goodnight to anyone. I spotted Nana and Mam, and Dee-Dee and Riley. That meant the house was most likely empty.
As we walked up the main path to the house, Cian kept his hand on me. Almost like I would run away if he didn’t, or perhaps he couldn’t bear not to touch me for those five minutes.
“Keep walking,” he would say, his voice still barely restraining his inner wolf. “Faster.”
“Easy for you to do, but I’m rock-hard now. Knots popping and all.” Subtly, I rocked the heel of my hand against the crown of my cock, and bit down on my bottom lip to hide my groan.
“We’ll deal with your knots afterwards,” he said.
Afterwards. I was—impossibly—harder.
“Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” I asked.
“I need everyone to know who you belong to,” was his gravelled reply. So yes, then.
“Hellooo?” I called out into the house as soon as Cian opened the front door and pushed me over the threshold. There was blissfully no answer.
“Bedroom now. Clothes off,” he ordered.
I practically ran there. By the time Cian sauntered in, I was naked. I’d also fetched something from one of my travel bags under the bed. I hid it behind my back and sat on the end of the mattress.
He walked up to me and placed a hand under my chin, tilting my face towards him. “I’m going to mark you now, like real werewolves do. Like my inner wolf is telling me to. I need your consent.”
“I’m already naked aren’t I?” Wasn’t that consent enough for him?
“Yes or no.” Apparently not.
“Yes.”
“Say the whole thing,” he demanded.
“Yes, mark me like a real wolf’s mate,” I said. Cian’s pupils dilated so much I could no longer see any blue. I presented the item I’d hidden behind my back—a leather dog collar and chain. “Leash me, please. Tell me I’m a good boy, and piss on me.”
A growl left his throat. He snatched the collar from my hand and smashed his mouth against mine.
“You brought this thing all the way from Remy even though you knew it was you and me only for two months?” His voice was still raspy, still barely containing the animal inside him. He buckled the collar around my neck.
“What can I say? I’m an optimist,” I replied.
At that, his stoic expression faltered, and a smile ticked the corner of his mouth. He reined in it and slipped his wrist through the leather loop, twisting the chain twice around his fist.
He didn’t raise a questioning judgemental brow. Didn’t tell me I was weird or perverted for wanting to wear a dog collar. And I didn’t have to spend weeks softening him up to the idea in the messaging channels of dating apps. He just went with it.
Because he was fucking incredible.
“In the shower now. On your knees.”
I slid from the bed to the floor and crawled to the bathroom because I was not doing things by halves, not now I had someone so ready to play along. Cian walked behind me, still holding the lead. My tail thumped against his leg.
The bathroom tiles bit into my kneecaps, but I was offered a few seconds of respite as I moved over the plush bath mat on my way to the shower. Inside the cubicle, I knelt, sitting on my heels, knees splayed. My tail poked out between my legs. My knots were full, cock hard, brushing against my stomach and leaving a sticky wet trail of precum.
Cian stepped into the cubicle with me, stopping between my parted thighs, my eyes about level with his belly button. His boots were still on, he was still fully clothed, the metal chain wrapped around his wrist. With his other hand, he stroked my head between my ears and then under my chin. My tail began tapping against my ankle.
“You’re a good boy, Mash.” He pulled on the lead, causing me to straighten my spine, then in that same wolf-gravelled voice of his, he said, “You’re my very best boy. This won’t take long.”
And I could only watch as he removed his fingers from my face and one-handedly unbuckled his belt. In slow motion, or at least it felt that way, he pulled down his fly, took his dick in hand, eased his foreskin back, and started pissing.
The stream hit me at the base of my throat, my collarbone, my pulse point, where my blood was closest to the surface. The wet heat gushed down my naked torso in fat rivulets. It worked its way into the fur covering my pelvis, sluicing over my knots and balls, rushing down my thighs, over my asshole.
My tail swished back and forth, flicking Ci’s piss over my feet, shins, knees. The runoff pooled along the rubber sole of his boots. Why the fuck was that, of all the things, so hot? I needed to touch my cock, wrap my fingers around it and relieve some of this desperation, but I knew it would be game over the second I got an ounce of friction.
The scent of Cian on me hit my nose. Not piss, but the scent of him, of us, of this make-believe bond we had, and I couldn’t contain my groan. His nostrils flared. The smell would be even more intoxicating to his senses.
Who would ever have thought this would be as hot as it was? I was panting, out of breath, chest heaving, and on the edge of exploding without touch. Again.
Cian finished, shook his dick, and pushed it back inside his underpants. He didn’t bother to do his belt or fly up. He stared down at me—naked, hard, and soaking wet. My tail still flicked between my knees, the chain still taut between my neck and his hand. He lowered his gaze until his eyes landed on my cock. I allowed myself one moment of indulgence and cupped my knots. My cry echoed off the tiles.
“You liked that more than I expected you to,” he said.
“Same, though,” I replied.
“You like being told what to do.” It wasn’t a question.
I answered anyway, my voice nothing more than a rasp. “Yes.”
I would be an alpha soon. People would follow my commands. Perhaps that was why I enjoyed being bossed around so much. Because for that brief moment in time, I had no responsibilities, no future obligations gnawing away at my insides. I wasn’t in charge, and I didn’t have to think.
Following other people’s orders was hot as fuck.
Cian rubbed his fingertips over my head again, stroking my hair between my ears. “Now be a good boy and touch yourself.”
“Really?”
“I told you we’d deal with your knots afterwards. Fuck your hand and let me watch.”
I didn’t wait for further confirmation. I needed this friction more than I needed air right now. I moved my fist from my knots to my cock. The relief was instantaneous. My eyes rolled upwards into my skull. My head fell back against the tiles, tugging on the chain between Cian and me.
“Ci, I won’t last long.” I dragged my gaze to his.
His eyes were shadowed by the overhead light, his knuckles white against the metal leash, and his breaths echoed throughout the shower cubicle. His lips parted as I began stroking myself, but he still said nothing.
This, right now, was the single hottest moment of my life.
“You’re doing so good,” Ci said, his voice still just a resonant growl. “You put on such a beautiful show for me.”
I stopped my movements long enough to swipe my hand through the slickness around my neck, and then returned to my cock. Using Ci’s piss as lube, I slipped my fist up and down. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upwards because I knew the moment I looked at him, saw the predatory way he was watching me, it’d all be over.
I slowed my rhythm. Cian kept one hand tight on the chain, and the other snaked round into the back of my hair. A second later I felt his breath on my face, and after that, his lips on mine. Agonisingly soft, wet, tender kisses. His tongue brushed the seam of my lips, asking for an invitation into my mouth. I opened to him without hesitation.
I was no longer in control of my movements. My pace sped up, the intensity building to near breaking point. So close to cresting that hill.
“Ci, please,” I begged. He wouldn’t deny me—I knew that much—but I really fucking loved begging. “Please, can I come?”
I sensed him crouch in front of me, and I forced my eyes open. He looked more desperate than I felt. His brow furrowed, his lips swollen from our kiss or from biting them, his face flushed to the tips of his human ears.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Come for me. Let me see you fall to pieces.”
Before he had finished his sentence, I broke. My orgasm erupted over my fist, hit my chest in stripes. I didn’t take my eyes off him.
Cian cradled my jaw in his hand. “Such a good boy,” he whispered, the gravelled, desperate edge in his voice gone. Or buried. He’d obviously sated his inner wolf. Now there was only tenderness present in his features.
I had the absurd and horrifying urge to tell him I loved him. I mean, I’d told him I loved him a thousand times before, but this felt . . . different, like . . . real love, true love. More than the love of two best friends.
Sam’s words echoed through my mind. “You’ve got nothing to lose by asking him to stay. He can only say no.”
I wasn’t ready to hear that “no” again, though.
“How long do you have to leave the piss on before you can shower?” he said, saving me from my thoughts. “Because I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a mess right now.”
I snort laughed. “I think—though I’ve never actually done this before—but I think you can shower straight away and the scent will linger. Like it’s a chemical reaction . . .” As a scientist, I should have a better understanding. “When the piss hits your skin, it changes the metabolic structure of your biomes or some shit.” I shrugged, gave up. I was a fucking tree doctor. How should I know the technical ins and outs of werewolf golden showers?
“Can you stand up?” He held out his hands, the loop of the lead still wrapped around his wrist, and gingerly I pulled myself up.
My feet had gone to sleep, and pins and needles were tingling my toes.
“Wait,” Cian said. He flattened a hand against my damp torso. His chest began rising and falling rapidly. His mouth opened, short even breaths puffed out. His eyes widened, pupils dilated.
Oh.
He’d caught his scent. His wolf was back.
Cian stepped closer . . . closer still. Until his chest pressed against mine, the fabric of his T-shirt soaking up the residual piss and cum that covered me. He moved his face between my neck and shoulder, and breathed in deeply, letting out the air and sucking it in again and again.
Then he pushed a gap between us to look into my eyes as he said, “I need to knot you. Right this fucking second.”