6. Evan
Chapter six
Evan
I t was a deep, consuming claim of a kiss.
Evan’s breath vanished—stolen as Silas’ lips pressed against his, firm and demanding, hot and unrelenting. His hand twisted into Evan’s hair, keeping him still, holding him there as he devoured his mouth. His lips were warm, impossibly soft, but his kiss— god —his kiss was anything but gentle. It was dark, hungry, full of raw heat and primal need.
Evan had never been kissed like this before.
Hell, he’d never been kissed by a man before.
And it was nothing like the shy, careful kisses he’d forced himself through with girls—nothing like the awkward, uncertain pecks he’d given back in high school just to keep up appearances.
This was heat and pressure and power. Silas wasn’t asking. He wasn’t hesitating. He was taking, and Evan felt it—felt it in the way his body responded before his brain could catch up.
A low, pleased growl rumbled from Silas’ chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into Evan’s mouth, claiming every inch of him. Evan’s body betrayed him, shivering as a helpless noise caught in his throat.
Silas groaned, tightening his grip in Evan’s hair, his fingers tugging just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure down Evan’s spine. He was drowning in it—in him —in the sheer heat of Silas pressing him down, in the scent of him, in the taste of him—earth and musk and something wild and dark and addictive.
And Silas—god, Silas was losing it .
A low, guttural growl tore from his throat, vibrating against Evan’s lips as he deepened the kiss with a fierce, unrestrained hunger. His body tensed, muscles coiled tight like he was barely holding himself back. Evan could feel the way Silas’ cock throbbed against him, hot and heavy, leaking slick precome that smeared across his skin with every desperate roll of Silas’ hips.
Silas growled against Evan’s lips, a rough, hungry sound that sent heat curling low in his stomach. His mouth was firm and unrelenting, claiming Evan’s like he had every right to take it. His hands roamed over Evan’s body, broad and strong, fingers pressing into his skin like he was memorizing the shape of him. Every stroke, every caress, sent a shudder through Evan’s body, twisting his insides with something terrifyingly deep and primal.
Evan’s hands clenched at Silas’ shoulders, his instincts warring against each other. He should shove him off, fight —but his body wouldn’t obey. His fingers only dug in harder, his lips parting as Silas deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against his own in slow, devastating strokes. Heat licked down his spine, pooling low in his belly. He felt Silas’ cock throb against him, felt the raw hunger pouring off of him, but it wasn’t just lust.
There was something more.
Something he didn’t understand.
Silas groaned into his mouth, pulling back just enough to let their breaths mingle. His eyes burned as he stared down at Evan, his gaze dark, feral. His chest heaved, muscles tight beneath Evan’s grip, his thighs bracketing Evan’s ribs, keeping him pinned. His hands flexed against Evan’s sides, stroking up his ribs, sliding lower, possessive and hungry.
But it was his next words that made Evan’s blood run cold.
“I need you,” Silas rasped.
The way he said it— not I want you —sent a sharp, panicked thrill down Evan’s spine. There was something more beneath those words, something heavier, something that made his stomach twist.
Silas leaned in, fingers dragging up Evan’s chest in slow, reverent strokes, like he was touching something precious.
“You don’t understand,” he murmured, his breath hot against Evan’s lips. His fingers traced up, skimming along his throat, over his jaw, until he took Evan’s chin in his hand, tilting his face up.
His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was claiming.
Those eyes bore into his, blazing with something wild and unchanging. “You’re my mate.”
Evan’s stomach dropped.
His mind stuttered, unable to process what he had just heard. What? He had to have misheard Silas. This was just… just sex. Just heat. Just a werewolf getting his fill on the hunt.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
Silas didn’t stop. His fingers tightened on Evan’s jaw, his other hand pressing flat against Evan’s stomach, feeling every rapid rise and fall of his breath. “I’ve searched for you for years,” he murmured. “And now I have you.”
Evan’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he could barely hear over it.
His body wanted this—wanted Silas, wanted the heat, the overwhelming need—but his mind—
“No,” Evan choked out, his voice rough, shaking. “That’s not—you don’t even know me!”
Silas chuckled, low and dark, lips brushing against Evan’s as he spoke. “Doesn’t matter. I know what you are to me.” His grin turned sharp, teeth flashing. “And you feel it too.”
Evan hated how his breath hitched. Hated the way his body arched instinctively into Silas’ touch, the way his own cock throbbed neglected and aching between them.
Because the worst part?
Some deep, hidden part of him did feel it.
And that terrified him.
This was reckless. Dangerous. Impossible.
His hands found Silas’ shoulders, pushing—not hard, not really trying—but Silas didn’t even budge. His strength was absolute, his grip steady as his hand slid lower, tracing the curve of Evan’s waist, spreading his fingers over his hips like he was staking a claim.
He wanted to shove Silas away, to call him insane, to end this before it unraveled him completely. But then Silas kissed him again, deep and slow and utterly devastating, and Evan broke.
His fingers curled into Silas’ shoulders, not pushing anymore but clutching.
Silas growled in approval, sliding his thigh between Evan’s legs, pressing up against his neglected cock. The sudden friction sent a pulse of desperate pleasure through Evan’s body, and he gasped into Silas’ mouth, back arching, instinctively grinding against the firm muscle beneath him.
Silas groaned, his body shuddering. “That’s it,” he murmured against Evan’s lips. “Feel me.” His hands slid over Evan’s body, caressing, claiming, stroking down his sides and back up, fingertips pressing into every dip and curve of him like he was memorizing him.
Evan tried to hold onto his last shreds of resistance, but Silas was unraveling him, taking him apart with every kiss, every touch, every slow roll of his hips against him.
“This—” Evan gasped as Silas bit at his jaw, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin beneath his ear. “This doesn’t mean anything…”
Silas laughed. It was dark and knowing, vibrating against Evan’s skin. “Liar.”
His fingers drifted lower, skimming the waistband of Evan’s pants, teasing, making heat coil tight in Evan’s belly. His hand dipped just beneath the fabric, fingertips brushing against the hard length waiting for him.
Evan twitched, a sharp gasp ripping from his throat.
Silas purred. “Your body knows the truth.” He dragged his lips down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Evan’s throat, his collarbone, his chest. “And so do you.”
Evan’s breath came in ragged gasps, his world narrowing to nothing but Silas—the heat of him, the scent of him, the devastating way his hands were exploring every inch of him.
Silas’ voice dipped lower, rough and possessive.
“You’re mine, Evan.”
And the worst part?
Evan didn’t know if he wanted to fight it anymore.
Silas kissed him again, deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world to break Evan apart piece by piece. His lips were warm, demanding, coaxing Evan into surrender with every brush, every slick slide of his tongue against Evan’s own.
There was no hesitation in the way he claimed his mouth—no doubt, no second-guessing. Silas knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted.
And that was Evan.
Evan tried to hold onto the last fraying threads of resistance, tried to remind himself that this was reckless, dangerous , that he should be shoving Silas away, not melting into his touch. But every time he thought he had a grasp on control, Silas stole it from him with a roll of his hips, a slow, devastating stroke of his tongue, a possessive hum deep in his chest that rumbled through Evan’s bones.
He was dizzy with it.
Silas shuddered, breath hitching as he broke the kiss just long enough to let out a ragged groan. “Fuck, Evan…” he rasped, voice thick with something almost pained. His hands clenched at Evan’s waist, gripping him, possessive and unyielding, as if anchoring himself before he lost all control.
And still, his cock pulsed between them, twitching, aching, demanding.
Evan’s breath was ragged, his lips tingling from the bruising intensity of Silas’ kiss. His mind was spinning, grasping for something solid, but then the words Silas had murmured minutes ago slithered back into his thoughts.
Bet you don’t even realize how good you’d look wrapped around me, do you?
His stomach tightened, heat curling low in his gut.
He could do it. Right now.
His gaze flickered down, drawn helplessly to the thick, pulsing length trapped between them. The heavy weight of it, the way it throbbed against his stomach, leaking hot slickness against his skin. It was huge , impossibly thick, and the thought of taking it into his mouth made his pulse stutter.
Could he even do it? Fit that thing between his lips? He imagined it—his mouth stretching wide, his tongue sliding over the flushed head, tasting the salty slickness of him…
His own cock throbbed, still neglected, aching, straining against the fabric of his pants.
His face burned. God, what the fuck was he thinking? He should be trying to get away, not… not entertaining thoughts like that. Not letting the hunger in Silas' eyes seep under his skin like something dark and intoxicating.
Slowly, deliberately, Silas’ lips curved into a knowing smirk. His sharp eyes, molten and feral, locked onto Evan’s with sharp, predatory amusement.
Evan’s breath caught. His heart slammed against his ribs as realization crashed over him—Silas knew .
Silas growled low in his throat, a sound of raw pleasure, his breath ragged as he shifted up over Evan’s chest in one fluid, predatory motion.
Evan’s pulse thundered in his ears as he looked up, his breath catching in his throat. His hand, still wrapped around Silas’ cock, stuttered to a halt—because now, now it was right there , thick and aching, hovering just inches from his lips.
Silas’ hand slid into his hair, fingers threading through the strands, firm but not forcing—not yet—just guiding. The weight of that touch sent a shiver down Evan’s spine, an unspoken promise thrumming in the air between them.
And it was clear what that promise was.
Evan's gaze locked onto the cock in his grip, and fuck—he had felt it before, the size of it, the impossible heat, but seeing it up close was something else entirely. It was huge , heavy and swollen, flushed a deep, needy red, veins thick and pulsing with barely restrained hunger. A bead of precome gathered at the tip, glistening in the low light, slicking over his fingers where he still held it.
He swallowed hard, heat curling deep in his gut, his own cock twitching against his thigh in response. He had thought he was in control, had told himself he could manage this—but Silas was undoing him, piece by piece, stripping him of every last denial, making him want in ways he had spent years refusing to acknowledge.
He should say something. Push back. Make some last attempt at resisting the inevitable.
But the words weren’t coming.
Because the truth was, he didn’t want to resist. Not anymore.
He couldn’t take his eyes off Silas’ cock, slick and eager, so fucking big that he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to take it. But the thought only made the heat in his belly coil tighter.
Tentatively, almost hesitantly, he parted his lips, breath shuddering out against the thick, waiting length before him.
Silas’ grip in his hair tightened, a sharp inhale dragging through his teeth.
Evan felt the reaction—felt the way Silas’ cock twitched in his grasp, as if his body was aching for it.
And fuck, so was Evan.