Chapter Thirty-Seven
Frey
Heat poured from Frey as he rolled to get out of the bed, away from the radiator sleeping beside him. Sweat slicked his upper torso, and his cotton bottoms stuck to his lower half as he walked to the bathroom, thinking about any way to cool himself down.
Water. He needed icy cold water.
He closed the door softly, to avoid disturbing Booker or Emmy in the other room, before he switched on the light. White spots flashed in front of his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. He gave himself a chance to get his eyes working before walking to the sink. Dry mouthed, he placed his hands on the porcelain sink, enjoying the cold against his sweaty palms. When he glanced in the mirror, his lips parted and closed as everything registered at once. He counted back, staring at his appearance .
He couldn’t be?
Could he?
Swallowing hard, he reached with shaking fingers for the glass on the countertop and filled it with cold water, drank it, then refilled it, all the time staring at himself in the mirror. Rather, gawked at his feverish eyes and flushed skin. Drinking the second glass, he placed it down to reach for his toiletry bag to find his thermometer.
Two minutes later, he couldn’t look away from the reading that told him exactly why he felt so hot. Why Booker had mentioned his scent several times the day before. He was coming into his heat… was in heat!
His legs wobbled, and he dropped the thermometer. It clattered on the countertop unnoticed as Frey clutched at the unit. What was he going to do?
He inhaled and, at getting a good dose of Booker’s scent, a fog of lust came in an unexpected wave. His nose wrinkled as he panted, willing the feelings away. No matter how hard he tried to insist to his lust-addled brain that this wasn’t happening to him after the first epic fail with Ziggy, his body told him otherwise.
I need Booker.
I need Booker.
I need Booker.
It ran on a cycle through his mind, his cock hardening painfully as slick soaked his sleep pants. He panted harder, trying to fight his instincts, ones that this time came naturally .
The door behind him opened and in the mirror, he met Booker’s gaze. He stood looking all kinds of gorgeous. Hair ruffled from sleep, his broad, hairy chest naked, his sleep pants hanging off his hip bones, revealing his cum gutters. Frey’s ass dripped, and he got the insane urge to rip off Booker’s pants and…
“Shit, you’re in heat,” Booker uttered in a voice that was all deep and guttural.
It was sexy as fuck.
Frey turned and took a step towards him.
Booker held up his hands. “We need Popi.”
Frey’s lust fogged brain took a second or two to catch up. “Emmy,” he murmured past a dry throat.
“I’ll take her to Popi. Stay here, I’ll need to warn the others to keep away.”
Frey didn’t try to keep up with what Booker was talking about. His skin was alive with need at how Booker’s aroused scent surrounded him. Swamped him. He needed his bear to fuck him.
“Need you,” he demanded, ignoring Booker’s request. “Touch me.”
“Fuck! Please, Frey, stay here. Let me sort our daughter.” Booker jumped away from him, and Frey grinned at the challenge, giving chase.
A door slammed in his face and he heard the snick of a key in the lock. “Booker,” he cried out and hammered on the door, his thoughts chaotic as the violent urge to fuck took hold .
“I’ll be back in five minutes, I swear it, my love,” came the muffled response through the door.
Frey rested his head on the cool wood, his hands pressing hard against the doorframe. Breathing hard, he counted. His bear would come back and help him. He would.
Where was he?
He whined, his nose pressed to the wood, sniffing out their mate.
After what felt like forever, a sound came from beyond the door. Sweat stung his eyes as he lifted his head and mewled louder. “Booker?”
“I’m coming, love.” The door pushed against him, and he stepped back as it opened, revealing his mate.
Whatever logic Frey had was gone, his heat taking all reason from him. He launched himself at his mate and large hands caught him and stroked over his skin. The contact made the need inside him burn hotter than the fires of hell. His hungry mouth sought Booker’s and his hands were everywhere, touching the hairy body, growling at the rippling flesh. The kiss was full of desperation as his cock ached in his pants. He ground against his mate. When this wasn’t enough, he rutted.
A strangled moan rumbled through Booker and into Frey’s mouth.
“Fuck me,” he exclaimed against Booker’s parted lips, “now!”
Another groan came from Booker, and Frey found himself against the cool wood of the door. Booker held him up against it as he tugged his sleep pants down his legs. The air touching his sensitive skin was too much, yet not nearly enough.
“Touch me,” he demanded, trying to swing his body closer to Booker’s.
Booker pressed his hard body to Frey’s, pinning him fully to the door. “Are you sure?” Booker asked, his lips teasingly close to Frey’s, making him cry out once more.
“Kiss me, fuck me.”
“Please, Frey. I need you to try to think about what you’re asking of me.”
Frey gasped in jagged breaths, working to understand, to fight past the clawing need to impale himself on Booker’s cock pressed against his belly. Hot, pulsing and ready for him.
“Fuck me, you’re mine.” Sharp teeth dropped from his gums, and he surged forward and bit true. The coppery taste drove his desire. He swallowed, scenting cum as wetness splashed his belly. He rutted madly against Booker until his cock exploded over the one pulsing next to his.
His teeth released. “Bite me,” he growled.
“Are you sure?” Booker gasped.
“Mine. Mine. Mine,” he rasped, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. “Always mine.”
The noise Booker made drove the desire beyond Frey’s control. Lips trailed hotly down the side of his neck until Booker reached the base of his throat. Frey pushed up, offering himself.
“Be mine,” Booker snarled, “forever,” as teeth bit hard .
They both groaned loudly, shuddering in pleasure as more cum spread between them, aiding the glide of Frey’s cock tunneling over Booker’s slippery belly. Slick trickled out of Frey’s ass, scenting the air. Frey’s hands reached up blindly to take hold of Booker’s head, keeping him right where he was as emotions, not all his own, surged through him. His cells buzzed as if he’d developed the worst case of pins and needles.
He embraced it. Felt liberated somehow. Not only because of the love he felt deep in his heart, but from the soul's connection. The unbreakable bond he shared with his precious bear.
“Mine,” he moaned in approval.
Teeth released his skin, and he felt the loss before a tongue lapped at the wound. “Yours forever,” Booker responded, then the head of his cock was there against Frey’s slick skin.
Impatient, Frey bucked his hips forward, impaling himself on the head. His body was ready for this and all that came from the move was pleasure. Deep-seated, it coiled through him while he clasped the hard flesh, wanting it deeper when he understood it would help with the fire inside of him. He hung on to Booker and shimmed down the long shaft. His body responding to the need for this. Needing it to survive.
“Yes,” he cried out. “Give it to me.”
“Slow, my love, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t! Please,” he begged unashamedly, his damp palms sliding over Booker’s shoulders, trying to convey his want.
“Hold on.” Booker’s teeth gritted together .
Frey did, his ankles crossing as he linked his hands around his bear's neck. The move shifted the cock deeper in his ass and Frey groaned anew at the flood of erotic gratification that followed. Inch by delicious inch filled him, the fullness strange, but there was no pain. His body wanted this. Needed this.
“More,” he whined, pressing his sweaty forehead against Booker’s, eyes locking.
A blaze burned intensely in his bear's gaze, one Frey wanted to unleash. “Give me everything,” he demanded sassily, his ass squeezing the hard length pulsing inside him.
“Fuck,” Booker roared, and Frey’s body was once more pinned to the door, the shaft going deeper until Frey became consumed by the fierce driving passion. Nothing existed but this. The cock inside him touched him like no one ever had or would again—only Booker. It was liberating. On some level, he understood Booker was freeing him of his past. Replacing the terrible memories with new, brighter, bolder ones. Ones he could live in, forever.
They moved as one, slick and sweaty. Skin slapped against skin, the sound, its own music, driving Frey to want more. For it never to stop.
“More. More. More,” he chanted around choked cries as their hips moved at a frantic pace.
The rasp of breathing came with wicked moans and groans, along with his harsh demands until Frey had no voice left. He used every fiber of his being to express his needs. Riding the waves of pleasure that were never ending. He surfed over them, fighting for the next one. Each time his cum sprayed Booker, his need drove him to do it again. To cover his mate in his scent.
Vaguely aware they moved from the door to the bed, his only thought was ‘more’ . He needed more. He rose over the man on the bed and impaled himself on the hard shaft, groaning wildly as he rocked blindly. The change in position allowed Booker to go deeper, to allow Frey to feel the shaft throb inside his pulsing sheath as he clenched tight on each downward thrust.
Heaven!
“So beautiful. So perfect.”
Words fluttered in the air like confetti. They touched him but left little trace as he sought to assuage the driving desire to fuck.