The Good Boys Club (Mythical Mishaps #2)

36. Rawdogging

Rawdogging

Present Day

Mash

“There are condoms and lube in my top draw—” I started to say, but Cian had already run from the bathroom.

I stepped out of the shower cubicle and onto the bath mat so I didn’t drip piss all over the tiles and make the floor slippery. My knots hadn’t deflated yet, and there was drying cum all over my stomach, but I was growing hard again at the thought of finally getting railed by my best friend.

“Do you want me to wash first then meet you in the bedroom?” I called out.

“Can’t wait that long,” Cian said, suddenly beside me, his hand on my hip. “I can only find werewolf condoms. I’m not sure they’ll fit over my knot.”

A sinking feeling hit my stomach. “Didn’t you bring any shifter rubbers?”

“I wasn’t expecting to fuck anyone here. And the shops in Lykos only sell were ones.”

“Can’t you just roll it down to your knot?” I asked.

Cian raised a single brow. We both knew that was one of the stupidest ideas I’d ever had, but I was edging into desperation.

One time, when I was younger and all I’d had available were human condoms, I tried doing exactly that. It ended very, very awkwardly. One lost condom, one mortified girl, one trip to the uni’s on-campus sexual health clinic to locate said condom, and a ridiculous amount of grovelling and begging for forgiveness.

“Fuck me bare, then,” I said.

“But—”

“I’m clean. I got tested in June, and the last time I had sex was in May,” I said.

Cian’s face fell into utter confusion. “May was like . . . four months ago. You haven’t had sex in four months? What about Laura?”

“Who?”

“The woman you were avoiding the last time you gatecrashed my office.”

“ Ohh ,” I said, drawing out the word. “Her. Yeah, no, we never banged. We watched movies and ordered a takeaway. The Fast and the Furry-ous ones, actually.”

“But you hate action movies,” he said.

“Exactly, she didn’t pass the vibe check.”

“But later, when you climbed in my bedroom window, you said, ‘I haven’t had sex in two days.’ ”

“Alright, memory police. I lied, okay?”

“Why would you lie . . .” He broke himself off, looked up to the ceiling, and shook his head.

I said nothing. Cian didn’t need to know that since the Winter Fest party on Howl’s roof, I hadn’t enjoyed sex with anyone other than myself. He didn’t need to know I’d thought only of him, or that the few times I’d had sex, I’d pictured his face. That in order to bring myself to completion, I had to imagine I was with him.

And I was only just figuring out that all the women I’d dated post drunken rooftop confession were my futile and half-assed attempts to move on. Maybe I was fooling myself into thinking I could have something even remotely similar to Bangers and Mash with another person.

Maybe I thought I could find someone I loved as much as Cian.

What a fucking idiot I’d been. And now I was about to mess up the first real—and possibly only—opportunity to feel him inside me.

Not happening. I could have my existential crises another time.

Like after the Hunter’s Moon in twenty-nine days’ time. When Cian would be back in Remy and I’d be sitting on my alpha throne, lording it over everyone, and crying like a newborn baby with a shitty nappy.

But not right now. Right now, I was about to live out a fantasy I’d had for . . . probably fifteen years.

I wound my filthy fingers into his hair. “We’re still fucking, yeah?”

“You want to?”

To answer his question, I closed the gap between our bodies and guided his head down to my shoulder. To the crook of my damp neck. He inhaled.

He ran the metal chain of the leash through his fingertips. “Okay, yes, we’re fucking right now. Get on your knees.”

“Are you getting naked?” I asked.

“No time.”

Damn, why was that so hot?

I bit my knuckles, barely suppressed a groan, and dropped to the bath mat, internally thanking whoever had chosen such a fluffy, plush cushion for my kneecaps.

Cian knelt beside me. “Mash, I’m gonna have to come inside you.” He closed his eyes, paused, groaned. It gave me enough opportunity to commit that sentence, his voice, the desperate look in his eye to memory. “Because—”

“Believe it or not, I know how knots work,” I said.

He nodded. “Obviously. I was just making sure you were on board.”

“I’m so fucking on board. I’ve never been more on board in my life. Never wanted anything as much as I want you to fuck me into the bathroom floor.” I was hard again. Aching.

Cian kissed me on the lips, then pivoted my body away from his. I felt rather than saw him move closer to me, and heard him inhaling. Then he pressed a gentle hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me onto my hands so I was on all fours. The chain clunked against the mat.

His hands caressed my hips and buttocks. He reached between my legs and stroked my knots, my balls, my taint, and then his fingers were on my hole, drawing soft, teasing circles along my entrance.

“I’m gonna stretch you. I don’t think you’ll need a lot, but since this is your first time with a guy—and especially a guy with a knot—I want you to be as prepared as possible. I won’t be the one to hurt you. At any time, if it’s too much, tell me. I’ll let you know before my knot inflates, so we don’t hit that point of no return without your full consent.”

“Okay,” I replied, trying to work out how I could back up straight onto his cock, or his finger, or anything.

But I didn’t need to because the next second I heard the squelch of the lube in his hand, and a finger slipped inside me.

“Holy fuck, Mash, we’re really doing this,” he said, his voice strained. He pulled out part way and pushed it in again, curled the tip. This time downwards.

I cried out, dropped to my elbows, and pillowed my forehead on my forearms. “More. Give me more,” I whined.

Cian added another finger, like he’d done at the lake. Fuck, it felt good. He pumped them, slowly at first, gradually increasing his pace.

“I’m gonna add a third now,” he said, breathless, and I felt even more stretched as another of Cian’s fingers slipped inside me. “Gods, Mash, you are so perfect. So fucking incredible. Such a good fucking boy. I know you’re gonna take my knot so well.” He already sounded out of breath and he wasn’t even moving yet.

My piss-sodden tail flicked up over my back and swished left and right, the cold, damp tip gliding over my bare skin. The chain from my collar hung down between my arms, coiling on the bath mat.

Cian removed his fingers. “I’m just gonna . . .” And then I heard the squelching again. After a few more moments, he hooked a hand around my hip and the head of his cock nudged at my entrance.

Oh, yes. Holy gods, yes. This was actually happening.

How many times had I imagined this moment? Even before I’d ever considered I might be bi. I’d never once predicted we’d eventually fuck on my childhood bathroom floor, though.

“Mash, let me know if it’s too much, okay?” he said.

“Yes boss,” I replied.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was rolling his eyes.

He pressed harder against my hole. “Ready?”

“So fucking ready.”

“You sure?”

“Just fuck me, Ci, please. I need you to fuck me so hard they’ll hear my screams in Remy. Please, I’ll be such a good boy for you. I’ll do everything you want, but I need you to ruin this ass right n—”

Cian snapped. Pushed inside me as though he could no longer hold himself back. “Oh, gods,” he panted. “I can’t believe this is finally fucking happening.”

He slipped in a little deeper. Only a bit. Not to the hilt. Pulled out. And moaned. I crammed every single sensation, every single noise into my long-term memory bank. Didn’t need my online-banking password any more. Cian’s cries of ecstasy bouncing off the bathroom walls were significantly more important.

“Ohhh, gods, Mash. You feel . . .” He whined again. “Is that okay? Am I hurting you?”

“No, not hurting me.” My words were throaty, too breathy. I wondered if he even heard them.

“Good, because I need to fuck you now.”

“Yes, please,” was all I could say before Cian drove all the way inside me, only stopping when the metal teeth of his fly bit into my ass cheeks. I moaned, pillowed my face on my forearm.

Fuck, I was full. I felt like a piece of firewood ready to become two smaller pieces, and Cian’s cock was the axe.

I’d always joked that Cian had a massive cock, but in fact, it was entirely average for his height. Cute, what with his little sweater, but still average. A fact I was now extremely thankful for.

“Still okay?”

This time I couldn’t answer him with words. So I nodded. He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around my dick.

“Sometimes, getting fucked can feel too intense on its own. I find it helps to do this. Gives your brain another sensation to focus on.” He moved his fist in tender strokes.

“Yes,” I tried to say. “It helps.” But my words barely left my throat.

“Good. Good boy. Such a good fucking boy, Mash.” He took his hand away and then guided my own to where his had been, and his hips began bucking, like he was trying to hold himself back but was failing spectacularly.

So I fucked my own fist for the second time that evening, as my best friend, the guy I’d known longest and loved the most, fucked me in the ass. His hands grabbed at every part of my flesh he could reach—my hips, my stomach, shoulders, tail—as he built up his pace.

I’d never been more conflicted in my entire life. I wanted this moment to last forever, slow it right down and savour each second, or at least stretch it out into the dawn. But at the same time, I was desperate to feel the heat of his release as he came inside me.

I was panting like a dog, sweating, and—I remembered—still covered in piss and cum. Cian made the cutest, hottest little grunts that echoed through my core. My own squeaks of pleasure were exactly that, squeaks, each time he hit that magic spot inside me.

“Mash, are you close?” he said, grabbing frantically at my hips. “My knot is . . . it’s right there. Fuck. Are you ready for me?”

“So fucking ready,” I whimpered.

“Are you sure?” He was out of breath.

“Yes. Do it now. Come inside me.”

“Oh, gods.”

Moments ago, Cian’s cock had stretched me to near breaking point. It was nothing compared with the sensation of his knot inflating. My asshole was a rubber band, pulling in every direction. The base of his shaft grew, pushing almost painfully against my walls, against my p-spot, locking him to my ass. We wouldn’t be able to separate for at least another twenty, thirty minutes.

“Mash, fuck. Mash,” he cried as he stilled. His cock twitched and then emptied jet after jet inside me.

I sped up my fist. Cian reached a hand forward to cup my knots, and I shattered, spraying the bath mat with my orgasm.

Behind me, Cian sagged. “You were so good. You were incredible.” He brushed the sweaty hair from my temple. “How are you feeling?”

I half turned to him. “So tired. So fucking tired.”

His fingers still danced through my hair, making me instantly sleepier. He laid a gentle kiss on my shoulder. “Is there anywhere on that mat that isn’t covered in jizz?”

“No, not an inch. Looks like it’s been snowing.”

He gave a peaceful, sated laugh. “Okay, well, we’ll just have to lie in it while we wait for my knot to go down. Grab that towel.”

I stretched forward and tugged the bath towel from the rack. I passed it to him, but instead of using it to mop up the cum, he eased me onto my side, big-spooning my body with his, and arranged the towel over my arm like a blanket.

Cian kissed me again, this time at the base of my neck. I still wore the collar, but I was too exhausted to take it off. His arm snuck around my waist.

I closed my eyes, and replayed his words from earlier.

“Finally,” Cian had said. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

I woke up naked and shivering on the bath mat, the towel still draped over my shoulder and arm like a blanket. Cian roused behind me, fully clothed except for his soft dick hanging out of his cords. No boner, no knot.

My asshole felt weird. Raw and stretched and . . . oh, gods, I was . . . leaking.

“Oh, my fuck, I’ve shat myself,” I said, reaching a finger under my tail and gingerly feeling my hole. “It’s still coming out.” I could feel it oozing down my thigh. “I can’t keep it in. My sphincter is broken. You’ve broken my dirtbox with your massive shifter knot.”

He laid a hand on my arm. “You didn’t shit yourself. It’s cum and lube. And I didn’t break your hole, it’ll bounce back. You’re werewolf, you heal fast. It was your first time, things are gonna feel weird down there. That’s totally normal. First time I ever took a knot, I thought my asshole was hanging out like a sleeve afterwards.”

“Yeah, that’s what it feels like. Is it hanging out?” I asked.

“No.”

“You didn’t look at it. Look at it and tell me, or get me a mirror.”

Cian gave an exaggerated huff, like looking at my butthole after he’d annihilated it was the most taxing thing he’d done all year, and pulled my cheeks apart. There was a second when Ci’s mischievous grin graced his face, like he was going to tell me he’d destroyed it beyond surgical repair.

“It’s fine. Your hole is fine. Happy Harvest Moon day, by the way.”

Yes! Shifting day. Always the highlight of the month. Almost good enough to make me forget about my leaky, broken asshole.

“Happy Harvest Moon, Bangers.”

He pushed himself into a seated position. I didn’t dare try the same, for fear of exploding all over the mat.

“You said that the pee thing will work if it’s showered off straight away?” he said.

“In theory, but I’ve never tried it before. It dried into my skin, so I’m pretty sure if I washed now, I’d still stink of you.”

“No, what I’m asking is if you piss on me now and then we showered together, would I smell of you, or would it wash off?”

“Only one way to find out, I guess.”

“Let’s do it.” Cian stood, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it towards the laundry basket.

“Okay, but you’re gonna have to come here, because I can never stand up again.”

He rolled his eyes. “And who’s going to clean up the bathroom floor after you’ve pissed all over it? I meant let’s do it in the shower.”

“Sure, but like I said, I can’t stand up. There will be untold horrors not only on the bathroom floor, but all over your boots if you don’t move outta the way.”

Cian didn’t step out of the blast zone. Instead, he held out his palm for me. “Flex that sphincter for just a few seconds and then go and sit on the toilet.”

I nodded. I could do that. I clenched my butt as tightly as a butt could be clenched, and took his hand, getting to my feet as though it were my first time standing. Cian guided me to the toilet, and I sat down, bunching my tail over my hip and into my lap. My thigh muscles burned. I clamped my bum hole closed like my life depended on it. Then he made to leave the room.

“Where are you going?!” I yelled.

“I thought you might want some privacy.”

“When have I ever wanted privacy? You did this to me. You must witness the consequences of your actions.”

He returned.

“Thank yewww,” I said, squeezing as much sarcasm into those two words as possible. And then I unclenched my muscles, and holy gods, maybe I should have accepted his offer of privacy. “When will it end? How is there this much?”

Cian bit back his smile. “How are you feeling?” he asked, kneeling in front of me.

I buried my face in my hands. “Like I’ve been rawdogged by a wolf shifter.”

He snorted.

“I think it’s all out now.” I gave another push. Still more in there. What the fuck?

“We’ll clean you up in the shower, okay?”

While I was dripping out the last of Cian’s mess, he stripped off his pissy boots and socks, and his cords and underpants until he was also naked.

“Do you need help standing?” he asked.

“No,” I said, because it was the truth. My asshole was sore, my knees were raw, and my quads were gelatinous, but I could move just fine on my own.

However . . . “I mean yes. I need your help. Take care of me, Daddy.”

Cian huffed and held his hands out for me. I winced as I stood. It was painful, in more than one place . . . and icky. So fucking icky and wet and gross.

He unbuckled my collar, letting it drop to the ground. I’d forgotten I had it on. Then he took his glasses and smart watch off, and placed them on the little shelf above the sink. He climbed into the shower cubicle, kneeling in the same spot I had earlier.

We didn’t speak, didn’t need words. Cian closed his eyes like he was getting ready to sleep, then tilted his head back, and I marked him the same way he had marked me.

Only this time it wasn’t electric with sexual charge. This time I wasn’t barely holding myself together, and neither was he. It was actually . . . tender.

When I finished, I knelt next to him, straight in the runoff.

“We should wait for it to dry at least, and then we can wash,” I whispered. “Are you cold?”

Cian shook his head. His gaze fell to my lips, and I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I kissed him. Butterfly soft and savouring. I tried not to breathe in too deeply in case the smell of me on him triggered the desperation in my inner wolf. We were both sporting semis, but they went ignored as we stood and began washing.

Hot water sluiced from our bodies. We took it in turns to dip under the stream and rinse the lather off. In between our regular cleansing routines, we paused to kiss, but nothing more. Not even to speak.

Once clean, we climbed into bed. I could smell my scent on Cian as he cuddled up behind me, big spooning me for a change, but again, I didn’t breathe him in. I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

This beautiful, serene, achingly tender moment.

Outside the window, the sky had lightened, with its eerie morning greys bleaching the colour from everything else. Birds were beginning their dawn fanfare. The curtain flapped against the wall.

I’d never felt more peaceful, more sore, or more loved.