Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
ATLAS
I’m honestly not sure if I’m hoping that the bond will work or that it won’t.
My heart thuds heavily inside my chest as Rune and I stare at each other for several seconds that manage to last an eternity.
He’s right though. It might not be romantic, but it’s practical.
If there’s even the slightest chance that the bond could work and he could become more powerful than he’s ever been, we have to try.
I can feel the fluttering tug in the center of my chest, the one that feels like Rune, and with our words still lingering in the air, I have to wonder if it’s a sign that he could be my fated mate. There’s only one way for us to find out.
“Well, are you waiting for me to buy you dinner first or what?” I tease, running my hands up his thighs, his light weight pressing down on me as he straddles my lap.
His lips twitch with a smile. “I was waiting for you to look less like you have a date with an executioner and more like a man about to get laid.”
A laugh rumbles in my throat, loosening some of the tension inside of me.
And then I force all of the worries and what-ifs about the future to the farthest corner of my mind and focus on him.
I move my hands to his arms and trace the pattern of his tattoos with the tips of my fingers, feeling the slightest crackle and spark of his magic stirring under his skin, coaxed by my touch.
That has to be a sign too, doesn’t it? Why would his magic react so strongly to me?
Why would it be inside me if we weren’t fated?
The tight knot of worry in my gut starts to warm into something else, something that feels a lot more like longing than fear.
“That’s better,” he murmurs, his smile getting wider as he leans in close, bringing his lips just an inch from mine. “And I don’t mean to put extra pressure on things, but we probably don’t have a hell of a lot of time before Lurch comes back.”
“Right, totally no pressure. Just hurry up and fuck you before we get caught and possibly murdered. Oh, and hopefully we’re fated mates otherwise we’re going to be totally fucked, and not in the good way.”
He snorts a laugh. “The sarcasm is a good start. I always figured if I had to have a mate or long-term partner, it would have to be someone fluent in sarcasm.” He brushes his lips lightly against mine and another warm spark ignites, the heat in my belly expanding to fill my chest and leach into my veins.
“Shit, if we’re going to avoid having an audience again too soon, we need to try to keep my magic flowing inside.
It’s the little sparks that are creating a scent and a palpable energy that keeps drawing them down here. ”
“I don’t know how to do that.” Even now, sliding my hands under his shirt, along his buttery soft skin, I can feel the sparks of magic my touch is creating.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, and he tugs off my shirt. I lift my arms to help him, and once it’s gone, Rune puts his hands on my chest. And again, his skin against mine immediately causes the now-familiar pulse of magic to start to dance along the surface of my skin, ricocheting between his hand and my chest.
“Focus on the magic,” he says, and I do that too. I picture it, feeling the shape of it as it pools right under the warmth of his hand, drawn to him like a magnet. “And now, imagine pulling it deeper into yourself, right towards your core.”
It feels impossible at first, like trying to grab the wind.
“Focus,” he says, brushing his lips against mine again.
I try to imagine it as something solid I can physically touch, and little by little, I manage to pull it away from the surface of my skin and hold it deeper inside me where it’s safe.
“Good. Hold on to it for me, let it build, and when the moment is right, let it fill me up so I can use it to create our bond.”
It’s impossible to not recognize the metaphor, to not imagine what else my body is aching to fill him with. I let my eyes flutter open and meet his. There’s the slightest glow behind his irises, hopefully just enough magic to tide him over until he’s ready for the rest of it.
“What about lube?” I ask, and he smirks.
“Already taken care of. All we need now is you…” He tugs the button on my jeans open. “And me.” He slips his shirt off and tosses it aside.
“Tell me what else you want in a mate.” I ghost my hands over his skin again. I can feel the pulse of magic growing, but I manage to hold it back, letting it gather and build in my gut like a writhing ball of electricity.
He grinds against me, teasing his open mouth over mine again, making my cock swell and tugging a needy rumbling sound from deep in my gut.
“I would want someone strong and brave.”
I nod, undoing the button on his jeans.
“Off to a good start,” I murmur.
He hums in agreement, flicking his tongue along the seam of my lips before climbing off my lap so we can both shimmy out of our jeans.
My eyes follow the pendulum of his hard cock, swinging between his thighs, long and slender, begging for my mouth again.
I lean forward and catch it between my lips, laving my tongue over his crown to taste the salty-sweet flavor of his precum just starting to bead on his slit.
He groans and sways forward, thrusting deeper into my mouth, dragging his length along my tongue and bracing his hands on my sturdy shoulders.
I pull back, wrapping my hand around his base and looking up at him with his cock still poised near my lips. His hips twitch and his eyelids flutter.
“What else?” I wrap my lips around him and swallow him down again.
His head lolls back and he moans quietly. “Good oral skills are high on the list.”
I rumble a laugh, and he gasps at the way the sound vibrates down his shaft.
“Kind, I suppose,” he says more quietly, digging his fingers harder into my shoulders and flexing his hips forward again. “Someone to soften me, balance me out.”
I grab his ass cheeks and encourage him to thrust. His breath hitches and he starts to slowly fuck my mouth.
“Attractive,” he adds, sounding a little more breathless now as my fingers wander into the crease of his ass. “I’ve always had a thing for muscles and beards.”
His hips snap faster. I don’t know if he’s flattering me, trying to pretend like I’m everything he would want in a mate, or if these are really and truly things he’s thought about before.
I’m going to pretend it’s the latter, because I want it to be true so damn badly.
I want this to work and for there to be some way for us to be together when this whole mess is over.
My fingertips find the tight pucker of his rim, and just like he promised, it’s already slicked and slippery. I circle it with light pressure, coaxing him to relax and waking up all those lovely little nerve endings that will make him gasp and writhe for me.
“Atlas,” he gasps, his knees quaking and his thrusts stuttering.
I growl around his length and dig my free fingers into his ass cheek to pull him deeper into my mouth again.
I know he said we don’t have time, but I’m not about to let him take my cock without loosening him up a bit first. I carefully slide one finger past the outer rim of muscles that clench and flutter around me, and his cock jerks against my tongue, spilling another mouthwatering burst of precum.
“I need a mate who doesn’t mind that I’m feral,” he pants with a hint of laughter, resuming his thrusts, fucking himself on my finger, and then back into my throat in an increasingly desperate rhythm.
“I need the freedom to be myself and someone confident enough to know that I’ll always come home to them. ”
His hole clenches tightly around my finger and my cock aches impatiently, desperate to feel the tug and squeeze of him around me, riding the ridges of my girthy shaft.
If he is my mate, I can be the things he wants, the things he needs.
I want to promise him all that and more, but I don’t want to let his cock slip out of my mouth long enough to tell him that, so I suck him harder and add a second finger instead, eager to get to the part where he etches himself permanently onto my stone.
Rune grinds himself onto my fingers, gasping and groaning.
“Fuck, right there,” he whines, hardly bothering with any rhythm anymore, just bouncing on my fingers while his cock twitches and dribbles against my tongue.
I wish we had more time. I’d spread him out face down on the bed and spend an hour licking and fingering him open, getting his hole soft and pliant and driving him to the edge of madness until he’s begging for me to fuck him already. Next time, I promise myself. If there is a next time.
I ease my fingers out and let his cock fall from my mouth. He groans in protest, his hips twitching.
“Come here, baby,” I murmur. “Climb on my cock and let’s find out if we’re fated.”
RUNE
In other circumstances I might be embarrassed by how fast I scramble to climb on top of Atlas.
If I’m honest, most of my sexual encounters involve me making them beg and acting like I’m doing the other person a favor by even being there.
But there’s just something about the gargoyle that makes it feel okay to be a little vulnerable.
Like he won’t judge me or use it against me if he realizes that maybe I sort of, kind of, like him just a little bit. Or maybe even a lot.
I push him down onto the cot and straddle him, taking his massive cock in my hand and stroking him slowly as I get myself into position.
“I meant it,” I tell him, looking down at his hard, chiseled body and the surprising amount of tenderness in his eyes.
He cocks his head questioningly, then bites back a moan as I notch his cockhead against my slick, soft hole and give his base a tight squeeze.