Chapter 13 #3
When Elias gasps, I look up, but he isn’t watching my face. His focus is on my cock. The intensity of his reaction stills everything else. My body stays steady beneath his gaze, doing exactly what it was made to do—hold, prepare, and not fail him.
When he doesn’t reel back in horror and instead flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, my cock twitches and another gush of lubricant pulses out of the passage that it all but erupted from. The small opening twitches with excitement, just as sensitive and as eager as my dick to be touched.
“Can I?”
His gaze snaps to mine, and I quickly nod, not sure I can manage a single word.
He trails his fingers over my warm, slick skin, and I groan, my stomach muscles pulling taut.
“You’re so perfect.”
I don’t answer as he continues to explore my length.
“You make your own lube.”
This time the tightening in my stomach is hesitation. Is that too weird? Too different?
“That’s so hot.” A smile that he manages to make look positively sinful stretches his lips. “And practical.”
Another moan spills free when he finally grips me. His fingers can’t touch, the girth too much for his human hand.
“And where does the slick come from?” Even as he asks, he starts to explore. When his fingers reach the base of my cock, he hesitates a moment. “Can I?” he asks with a shaky whisper.
I gasp, “Yes,” desperate for him to do just that.
He finds the rim of the opening my cock is usually enclosed in and the small slit underneath my shaft. More slick pulses against his fingers and my length at the touch, right at the gap, and tentatively, he dips a finger past the base of my cock, easing his finger inside.
A growl tears out of me from the sensation. He freezes until his eyes snap to mine, and he smirks.
“Feel good?”
I bob my head, hoping he doesn’t stop.
The slit stretches with his finger as he pushes farther inside, his skin rubbing against the long root of my cock that remains inside my channel.
“Is this—” He cuts off and swallows. “Is this still your cock?”
I nod. “Yes.” I shudder as he pulls out and pushes in two fingers. “The root is slimmer and doesn’t exit my body.” Another of my heavy moans follows when he strokes his fingers up and down my root, the channel stretching farther to accommodate him.
“Could I— Would I—” Elias’s cheeks turn crimson and his cock pulses against my palm, reminding me that I’m not doing a great job of taking care of him as I literally sit here with his dick in my hand, too caught up in the sensation of his exploration.
But I understand what he’s failing to ask immediately. “Can you fuck me”—I gently stroke his cock—“with this?”
A deep groan is my reward as he nods quickly. “Yes, that. Will I be able to?”
Just the thought of Elias inside me, rubbing against my root, makes my gut tighten with need. “Yes. My body can accommodate yours.” I know this with a certainty I don’t fully comprehend.
He clamps his top teeth into his bottom lip and his eyes glaze a little.
He’s as affected as I am. My heart hammers as fresh needs pulses through me.
I want that. Want Elias so much that the thought of not experiencing everything with him is almost enough for me to lose control and demand…
plead with him to do exactly that right now.
“And that would feel good for you?” he asks slowly, still pushing his fingers in and out of me.
“For both of us,” I reassure him.
Elias smiles again but slowly pulls out. When he latches onto my cock with his slick hand, I thrust into his palm. “Maybe we can do that sometime.” I nod as he continues, “But for now, I want nothing more than to be coated in your lube.”
Desire coils low in my gut, and what I’m sure is a feral smile tugs at my lips. “Now that is most definitely something I can take care of.”
I press his cock against mine and focus on ensuring every inch of him is shiny with my slick. Fern be, his cock looks good like this, coated in me. I want my scent all over him, inside him. I want him so saturated that even the tiniest of breezes will spread our combined scent.
The thought has me moving my hand faster as I work my palm over the two of us.
His creamy, pink shaft is rock-hard against my own, the soft skin in delicious opposition.
His cock is hot and perfect, the contrast between us so stark that I’m convinced there’s never been anything quite so extraordinarily beautiful as this.
With each slide of my hand, I learn what makes his breath catch, what makes his fingers tighten, what makes him bury his face against my neck.
Hot, strangling need wraps around me, the sensation of our cocks sliding against each other so very close to unraveling me.
“There. Just like that, Boone. Fuck, your hand, your cock—” Elias breaks off with a shuddery moan as he throbs in my hand a moment before cum pulses out of him.
I’m transfixed, sweeping up his seed immediately as I continue to stroke, ensuring I spread him over my tightening skin. Elias shudders again, his gaze fixed on our cocks and my hand.
“That, Boone… I want to see—”
I cut him off with a strangled groan, my orgasm shooting out of me with such velocity, it hits his chin, spraying across his neck. My gut tightens at the sight even as pleasure continues to spiral through.
Elias covered in my cum is officially my new favorite thing.
“Holy….” He trails off, dipping his tongue into my cum.
“Elias.” The sigh of his name is all the warning I give him before I crush him to me and kiss him as fiercely as I dare. It’s all tongue and teeth as I lick into his mouth, the taste of me in both of our mouths.
The only thing that would make this more perfect if I’d thought to suck him clean before kissing him.
When he finally eases away, breathless and pink-cheeked in my arms, the knowledge that I am the one who put that look on his face, that looseness in his body, is almost too much to bear.
I press my forehead to his temple and breathe through my own battle with restraint, letting the wave pass with him held safely against me.
The forest hushes around us as we end up half reclined against the fallen log, Elias sprawled bonelessly against my chest. His legs stretch out along the moss, boots askew, one sock slightly askew as well from some point where he kicked a little too hard.
His curls are a mess, flattened in some places and standing on end in others.
There’s a dazed, satisfied softness around his eyes that makes my heart try to relocate into my throat.
My own body still hums with satisfaction and warmed-over hunger, but it’s tempered by contentment.
He breathes slowly, hand resting over my sternum. For a few minutes, we just exist. The trees sway. A bird scolds us from a nearby branch and then decides we’re not worth the effort. The sky, visible between the canopy, has shifted toward afternoon.
“Wow,” Elias says eventually, voice muffled by my fur. “Okay. That was… a thing.”
“Regrettable?” I ask, because apparently I enjoy suffering.
He lifts his head enough to give me a look. “Boone,” he says. “If I could bottle that and label it ‘stress relief,’ I would never need therapy again.”
“Good.” The word comes out more relieved than I intend.
He snuggles back down, humming under his breath.
After a while, I ask, “You really meant it? About Yellowstone?”
He goes very still. “Yeah,” he says. “I meant it.”
“You would leave all of this,” I say. “For three or four months. The data, the routines, the comfort. To walk across several states with a grouchy forest monster and go to a party you can’t talk about afterward.”
He lifts his head to look at me, his eyes steady and clear. “I wouldn’t be leaving it,” he says. “I’d be… expanding it. And I wouldn’t just be walking ‘with a grouchy forest monster.’ I’d be walking with you.”
My chest tightens.
“You understand how much your life will change if you keep doing this?” I ask. “More secrets. More distance from people who cannot know. More… me.”
“That last part is not a problem,” he says. “The secrecy, yeah, that will be an adjustment. I’ll have to be careful. But I already spend most of my time talking to trees. Talking to someone who talks back sounds like a major upgrade.”
“You say that now,” I murmur.
He considers me for a moment, then leans up and presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“I trust myself,” he says. “And I’m starting to trust you more than I trust most humans.
That says a lot. Also, logistically? Getting to see more of the country, more ecosystems, more protected areas?
That’s a dream. Getting to do it with you is…
” He shrugs, smile crooked and earnest. “A bonus,” he finishes.
I close my eyes briefly, because the feelings are too big to look at head-on.
“Fine,” I say. “We’ll figure out the details. When to leave, what to tell the rangers, how to keep you from terrifying half the monster population by tripping into their dens.”
He beams. “I will be so respectful. And quiet. And normal.”
“You can’t be any of those things,” I say.
He laughs. “True,” he says. “But you like me anyway.”
“I do,” I say, surprised by how easy it is to say it out loud.
We stay here a little longer, sprawled against the log, watching the light shift. Eventually, we have to get up. There are cameras to check and transects to walk and a world that still expects both of us to move through it like we’re solo organisms.
But it’s different now.
There’s a line drawn between us, thick and bright and unignorable. A promise of Yellowstone. Of Solstice. Of more shared paths and shared blankets and shared quiet moments where I don’t have to hold up everything alone.
When we finally stand, I offer him my hand. He takes it with a smile.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “Ready.”