Chapter Thirty-Nine
Booker
Booker lay sprawled on his back, covered in cum, his eyes slitted against the light pouring through the open blinds. He had no clue what time it was, in fact, what day it was. Frey, for now, was asleep on top of him where he’d collapsed after the last bout of hot, sweaty, mind-fucking-blowing sex.
Booker had enjoyed sex and thought he had enough stamina to give his partner what they needed. It galled him that Frey might defeat him. Letting Frey down in that way… yeah, it didn’t sit well with Booker, or his bear. The very idea that they’d need to invest in a dildo made him grumpy.
Was Frey’s need because of his lack of a proper heat reaction? The drugs?
We’re just irresistible.
Booker rolled his eyes heavenward at his bear's choice. Granted, but what if we can’t give our mate what he needs?
You did, couldn’t you hear him scream our name repeatedly ?
Booker blushed at just how loud Frey had gotten and the fact his family was one floor below. Fuck, he was sure to be ragged on by his brothers for this. He could still see Lane and Derick’s amused expressions when he’d barged into the bedroom in a desperate hurry.
“Popi, Dad, please wake up,” he hissed into the darkness, doing his best to keep his voice down with Emmy asleep in the crib. He’d lifted the entire thing, forgetting to separate it from the stand in his haste to get back to Frey.
Lane was the first to reply as a soft light illuminated his side of the bed, allowing Booker to glance down at Emmy to see if it had distributed her. He breathed a little easier, though his chest remained constricted with Frey’s whimpering cries ringing in his ears after he’d locked him in the bedroom.
It was for his own safety.
“What is it? Is Emmy sick?” Lane kept his voice low as he got out of the bed, eyeing the crib as he came towards them.
“Popi, Frey’s in heat. He needs me, can you take Emmy for us?” Although it was a request, it came out as more of a demand, because he was already lowering the crib to the floor. His body burning with desire to get back to Frey. It warred with his need to keep Emmy safe, too.
With the crib on the ground, Derick got out of bed and strode towards him, his nose wrinkling as his dark eyes gleamed like polished glass despite the lateness of the hour. “Smells like you need to get back upstairs.” Booker heard the amusement, and it matched Lane’s as they grinned at one another .
“Will you watch over Emmy and keep everyone away? Please?” he begged, his own pheromones becoming more obvious as his bear got more antsy to return to Frey.
Lane laid a hand on his arm, smiling softly. “Go take care of your mate.”
Booker gulped at the truth. Frey was his—forever. And trust Popi to know this! The meddling ole coot.
Did he care? Not one iota. He affectionately kissed Popi’s cheek and then made a mad dash for the door, hearing them chuckling when he tripped, hit the doorframe and bounced right into the passageway, having to right himself before face planting the opposite wall.
Booker let out a soft chuckle. His parents were the best, they’d kept everyone away and left them trays of food so Booker could feed Frey and himself to keep their strength up. It eased Booker’s conscience a fraction when he thought about how Frey had cried when he’d left him alone. Although a valid reason, it still hurt him when Frey wasn’t in his right mind to understand. Booker hoped when Frey was fully out of his heat, there’d be no guilt at not thinking about Emmy’s needs. Booker had enough of those with how he barely had the wherewithal himself to ensure she was taken care of before leaving her.
Being a parent was fucking hard!
Frey moaned as he shifted, as if to get more comfortable, one hand running over Booker’s pec and landing on his nipple. All thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind. The pad of a fingertip sat atop the budded flesh and remained still for a few seconds, then it twirled over the sensitive bud .
Booker bit back a curse. His whole body ached and every sensitive nerve ending felt connected to Frey’s touch. Mates.
Lane was right, they were mates—soul mates. His to treasure for all eternity and wasn’t that just fucking perfect!
“Booker.” Frey’s sleep rasp was sexy as all hell. The edge of neediness wasn’t as prominent now, but Booker didn’t miss the desire.
He rolled them over and met Frey’s heavy-lidded gaze. The lust blown pupils juiced up Booker’s tired body and blood surged to his cock once again. It firmed as he rocked his pelvis against Frey’s. “What do you need, foxy love?”
Gentle fingers ran over Booker’s scalp, down to the base of his nape, where they dug in. Frey’s attention on Booker was as stimulating as his touch. “A kiss…” His lips puckered.
“Just a kiss?” he teased, lowering his mouth until it was barely an inch from Frey’s lush, kissable lips.
“For starters,” Frey murmured as he claimed Booker’s mouth. The bold little fox was all it took to bring Booker’s body fully back online. The kiss this time was a sexy, slow dance of plump lips sliding playfully over Booker’s. His taste was intoxicating. Their tongues danced to their tune of divine love.
A sigh escaped Frey as the kiss turned from one to two, until they were breathless, both of them aroused, but there was no sense of urgency. Just a slow build that made Booker’s heart beat hard against his ribs as he cupped Frey’s whisker roughened cheeks and held his stare, searching to see if there was any regret. Any fear .
“I’m fine.” Frey lifted to kiss him. “In fact, I’m more than fine, although my ass might not like me or you for a few days after,”—he blushed a deep pink but never looked away—“what we did.”
Booker’s chuckle held a wealth of relief. “Does that mean you don’t want…” he nibbled on Frey’s lower lip, “to do anything about the little situation that we got going on?”
Raucous laughter shook Frey’s body, making Booker moan at the cock rub he got. “There is nothing little about your ‘ situation ’. My ass can attest to that!”
“Cheeky imp!” Booker held in his amusement and delight for about a second before he couldn’t help himself.
“I’m telling the truth.” Frey moved his legs, and they clasped around Booker’s hips, pushing their groins together along with another part of him that was more than happy to go with what Frey was doing. “But maybe we need to test the theory, just to make sure I’m not lying,” he cheeked, smiling like an angel. Booker noted the devilish light sparkling in his eyes like a neon sign.
“Is that right, foxy love?” The kiss he gave Frey was hot and potent. Tongues sliding against each other, their lips clashed in a battle. Aware of his size, Booker was careful not to put all his weight on Frey as he rolled his hips, the head of his cock sliding over Frey’s wet hole. His slick aided Booker as he pushed against the rim, feeling it give before the head of his cock slipped inside. Incredible heat, the shock of it, without Frey’s urgency, sent Booker into a tailspin of desire. He eased in another inch before reversing, getting a thrill with each thrust as he repeated the move, until he was fully seated inside his lover.
His little fox’s breath came in short pants as wide-eyed wonder came with a heady look of lust. The combination was Booker’s undoing.
“I love you,” he moaned, kissing Frey once more, moving his hips in a sexy slow roll. Booker drank in the whimpers and cries Frey released as he made love to him. Cherished him.
When Frey pushed at his shoulders, Booker eased out of Frey and rolled them over. Frey didn’t wait a beat before straddling Booker and in a sexy ass move put a hand around—nearly—his cock as he angled it at his ass, then teased Booker by sliding the head against his slick. It dripped over and down his cock, covering them both while the little devil on top of him aroused them both.
“You’re playing with fire, foxy love.”
A low groan came as Frey pushed down, just the flared head of Booker’s cock sat in the incredible heat. Then Frey gave a slow roll of his hips, his ass muscles clenching and releasing.
“I like fire. Oh-hh… feels so good,” he rasped breathlessly, keeping up the motion, driving Booker to distraction.
“Show me,” he demanded, despite the growing need to thrust. To feel Frey clasp his throbbing shaft deeper inside.
“Like this.” He wiggled but only another inch down, biting his lower lip. The flirty side of Frey had captured Booker’s attention, but the shy smile he wore now was what kidnapped his heart .
Booker hadn’t failed to notice that Frey had gravitated to being on top during sex. Booker had no issue with that, not when he got to see Frey lose control all over him. Only, in the back of his mind, he worried it was because of what had happened to Frey before. He locked away the concern for now and clasped his hands around Frey’s waist as he rose, holding him in the same position, and leaving it up to Frey to move if he chose. Booker remained mindful of any change in Frey that indicated he wasn’t happy with the situation, as he had done every time they’d touched so intimately.
His nose touching Frey’s, he grinned sexily. “You are such a tormenter.”
Frey fluttered his eyelashes, and all the while, his ass squeezed the head of Booker’s cock until he thought his balls might rupture with the violent need to come.
“Who, me?” Frey went for innocence and would have succeeded had he not chosen then to move his pelvis in a slow rotation going down Booker’s cock.
“Mother fucker,” Booker ground out and had no chance to catch his breath as Frey slid the rest of the way down, not releasing his ass muscles. “Don’t move,” he gasped, slamming his eyes shut to avoid looking at the visual delight in front of him. Problem was, that made all his other senses come to full alert. The crazy tingles in the base of his spine said that if Frey so much as moved a hair, Booker would come embarrassingly fast. Last thing he wanted was to disappoint his mate.
He frantically searched for something to think about, anything other than what was happening. Frey, it seemed, had other ideas. Booker released a shuddery exhale, then chugged in a breath, but the air in his lungs stayed put as the imp relaxed. He lifted himself off, only to repeat the move, lowering himself fully on Booker’s throbbing shaft, seating himself. It was too much when he squeezed once more. Booker arched, a silent scream caught in his throat, along with the air trying to escape his lungs. He hung between heaven and hell, his body warring as cum filled Frey while he shuddered violently. His vision blurred as his balls ached at the suddenness of the release.
“Yes,” Frey moaned in delight, his hand working his cock, and moments later, he sprayed Booker’s chest with milky splatters of cum.
Booker’s lungs gave up trying to do anything as he collapsed backwards onto the bed, the aftershocks continuing to rock his world. His grip tightened on Frey, but not enough to prevent him following Booker and lying on his heaving chest. Warm breath danced over his sweaty skin when Frey breathed like a freight train pulling out of a station.
Cum and sweat slicked them both and Booker had a thought to clean them, then he remembered nothing, exhaustion knocking him straight into sleep.
Legs weaker than a newborn kitten, Booker limped to the bedroom door. He wasn’t too proud to admit that Frey had more staying power in his heat than Booker had ever encountered. That last round, though not as energetic as the others, had wiped him out. Frey was definitely making up for lost time. To think he’d thought himself defective when his last heat hadn’t gone to plan. Booker was eternally grateful to be able to support Frey the way he had. Whatever came next, he would make sure to be more prepared.
The urge to kick himself for not planning for this eventuality re-emerged at how frantic Frey had gotten at him leaving. Fuck, why hadn’t he understood, with Frey’s scent change, that he was coming into his heat? Emmy had taken a good chunk of their time and energy, though he would not blame their little girl, hell no. It was all on him.
He reached the door and took a breath, his hand resting on the door handle, preparing for what was going to come his way from his brothers. Booker rolled his shoulders at the stiffness in them and dragged his ass out the door.
When did they last eat?
It felt like days to Booker. Utterly spent, he needed fuel. After having debated for a minute on whether to shower before seeking food, he’d had the quickest wash to get rid of the cum crusting his skin. Now, dressed in old sweats and a T-shirt, his hunger drove him on. He was starving to the point his stomach was cramping painfully. He’d eaten everything on the trays Lane had left outside their room with notes updating them on Emmy, who had remained fine.
The last had been days before—or so he believed. It was hard to tell; they had lost track. Although his belly rumbles had gotten him out of bed and into the shower, Frey remained asleep. He’d looked so peaceful, Booker didn’t have the heart to waken him. His scent, softer, warmer than the sexy spicy undertone that had increased during his heat, made it a simple choice to leave him.
With thoughts of bringing up another tray of food and getting some Emmy cuddles, Booker continued down the stairs. A scent wafting from below had him increase his pace from a snail to more of a tortoise. Hurrying wasn’t an option with how he ached everywhere, despite smelling Bessie’s homemade meatloaf.
Booker groaned at how his body protested on the last flight of stairs. Whether Frey’s behavior during his heat was because of the lack of a proper one in the past, Booker wasn’t sure. It was a comfort, with how fast everything had turned on its head, that what had happened between them was in a place where he could keep Frey safe.
“Oh, lover boy has decided to make an appearance.”
Booker grunted in Rue’s direction, finally noticing the other man standing by the door, a computer case sitting next to a suitcase.
“You going away?” he asked as he came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, working to keep control of the heat of his embarrassment.
Rue laughed as he shrugged off his suit jacket and, like they all had a habit of doing, hung it on the bannister post at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve been and come back in the time you’ve been— ”
“Don’t say it,” he threatened, seeing Rue’s expression, one that suggested he would not hold back. “I don’t wanna have to ram your teeth down your throat again.”
“You loosened one tooth, and it was an accident.”
Booker gave Rue a toothy grin. “Was it?”
Rue’s eyes narrowed on him. “It was.”
“Whatever you say.” Booker swung in the kitchen's direction, his nose twitching as his mouth watered.
“Where you going?”
“I need food,” Booker answered, but didn’t stop walking.
“Not fucking surprising from what I saw in the group chat. Your fox sure knows how to get his freak on.”
A growl roughed up Booker’s throat as he swung around and jabbed a finger at Rue. “Do not talk about my mate like that, you hear me!”
“What’s all this,” Lane demanded, from behind Booker.
“Ask him,” Rue muttered, stomping towards Booker. “It’s not like the whole fucking house didn’t hear or smell them! Now I’m not allowed to talk about the bear in the room.”
Lane stepped between them as Booker went to get into Rue’s face. “Now, we’ll have less of that. I have just gotten Emmy down for a nap, and you two will not make a racket and wake her up.” He looked at both men. “Am I understood?”
Lane might be a lot smaller than both of them, but Booker noted Rue wasn’t unaffected by the ‘don’t mess with me’ tone Lane could rock.
Rue nodded and threw Booker a look that suggested he wasn’t going to let it drop .
“I saw that, Rue,” Lane smacked at his chest. “Behave.”
Booker’s lips twitched, and he suppressed the urge to smile, knowing better. “Is Emmy okay?”
“Now he asks,” Rue muttered, stomping off.
“She’s absolutely darling.” Lane slipped his arm through Booker’s and gave him a knowing smile. “So, how are you feeling?”
Never really a squirmer, Booker had to resist doing so now as Lane’s gaze moved to the neck of his T-shirt. His nose wrinkled and his smile spread to his eyes.
“Oh…” he sniffed, and Booker groaned internally at seeing Lane get all damp eyed.
“Please, don’t,” he begged unashamedly, with no brothers around, “don’t cry.”
“You found your mate,” he sob-sniffed, eyes glistening bright as jewels.
He couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he picked up Lane and hugged him. “I did,” he sniffed, ignoring the sob that caught in his throat.
I’m not crying.
I’m not.