Chapter 4 Guy
Guy
Tabarnak, Fable was totally jerking off in the shower.
And he wasn’t even trying to be quiet about it.
I lay there on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the slap, slap, slap as he went to town on his cock.
Fuck me, the image that came unbidden to my mind was obscene, and I groaned, squeezing my hard-on through my jeans.
This was the worst kind of torture. And of course, I’d had to go and suggest we wait until morning to work out the room situation.
Did someone screw up our reservations? Sure seemed that way, but I would be blind not to recognize fate’s hand in this.
I hadn’t been looking for my mate, but who was I to turn him away now that I’d found him?
If he were a shifter, I’d have been buried deep in his ass right now.
Instead, it felt like my balls were clamped in a vise.
The tempo of wet slapping increased, and I closed my eyes, cursing to the high heavens.
Sweat beaded on my brow as I struggled to keep myself from breaking down the bathroom door and claiming my mate.
Every single muscle tensed as my balls tucked up.
Fuck, I could come just listening to him pleasure himself.
And then his rhythm stuttered, and he let out this little muffled whimper that seemed to echo through the entire cabin.
Silence descended at last. With a shuddery sigh, I pried my fingers off my erection.
It was finally over. Under different circumstances, I would go outside and shift.
Allowing my beaver to swim in the ice-cold river would be the ultimate cure to my current dilemma, but if I was gone from the cabin when Fable came out of the bathroom, I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t lock me out.
He was human, after all, and while he obviously sensed a physical attraction, he wouldn’t understand what mates were.
How unbending my devotion to him would be from here on out.
Right now, I was nothing more than a stranger.
Of course he didn’t trust me, but I would do everything in my power to change that.
By the time the bathroom door swung open, I was still half hard, but the way Fable sauntered out, cheerful and sated, it got me straight back to where I’d started.
His glasses had fogged up in the steam, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of Christmas-tree-patterned pajama pants, his freckled chest still damp and glistening.
There was a line of colorful tattoos down one shoulder, and I wished I had the time to examine them, and his permission to trace them with my tongue.
Gritting my teeth, I averted my eyes and bent my knees to hide what he was doing to me.
He bent down over his suitcase, looking for something, and I ogled his ass shamelessly. Soon, I told myself. He’d be mine soon. “So, did you check if the couch pulls out?” he asked, standing up with a hoodie in hand.
“Pardon?” I asked, reverting to French on reflex. Luckily, that word crossed the language barrier just fine.
“The couch,” he repeated, gesturing to it, before pulling the sweatshirt down over his body. His head popped out the top, hair disheveled and sexy as hell. “It would be more comfortable for you if it pulled out.”
We both turned to look at the couch. Even if it did open—which was unlikely—there wouldn’t be enough space for it to unfold.
I rolled off the bed and stood beside the couch.
Next to my frame, it looked more like doll furniture.
I was all for chivalry, but my legs would no doubt hang over the end, leaving me unable to walk by morning.
“I can’t sleep on that,” I said, simply stating a fact.
I could barely sit on it, let alone stretch out.
Fable scoffed, pulling his hood up over his head. “Well, I’m not sleeping on the couch. I paid for the cabin. I deserve the bed.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I also paid for the cabin.” If he wanted to get technical.
He punched his hands into the front pouch of his hoodie, averted his gaze, and hunched his shoulders up to his ears.
“Well, I mean, if I paid for the room and you paid for the room,” he drawled, “maybe we should… share…” His cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink that had nothing to do with the shower.
I fought to keep my grin contained, even as my stomach did a swan dive down to my toes.
At least my beard was thick enough to hide my dimples.
I cleared my throat before I answered, aiming for blasé.
“Hm, I guess that’s fair. The bed is plenty large enough, and we’re both adults.
I’m sure we can handle sleeping next to each other for one night. ”
“Great, perfect. Okay.” Fable’s voice came out as a breathless squeak, like air escaping a balloon. “Then I guess we should get ready for bed?”
“Yes, let’s.” It wasn’t that late, but it’d been a long day of travel.
I wondered where Fable had come from or what he was doing in Pinevale.
I was dying to know everything about him, like I knew he was single, but he’d mentioned an escort.
I was going to need answers, and if he was moving to another cabin in the morning, I had to make the most of my time with him.
“First, some ground rules,” he said, drawing back the quilt.
“For all I know, you are the dreaded stranger my mother warned me about when I was a child, just waiting for me to let my guard down.” The words would’ve stung if he weren’t smirking as he said them.
There were extra pillows, and he grabbed a couple, shoving them into the middle of the bed, creating a barrier.
“You are to stay on that side of the bed at all times. Understood?” He jabbed his finger at me in the air between us.
I set a hand over my heart and said solemnly, “Je te promets.”
He scrunched up his face. “I… don’t know what that means, but it sounded serious, so I’ll accept it as legally binding.”
I rounded the bed. “Do you mind?” I asked, indicating my shirt. “I promise, clothes or not, I have no expectations.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course. I don’t expect you to sleep in your jeans. You didn’t bring pajamas?”
“I usually sleep naked, but for your sake, I’ll leave my boxers on.”
“Th-thanks?” Why did that sound like a question?
He paused in the middle of climbing into the bed, eyes fixed on me as I unbuttoned my shirt. And he remained in that frozen posture, one knee on the bed, throat flexing with a gulp, until I had slipped off my jeans too, leaving me in nothing but a pair of red-and-white-patterned boxer briefs.
He huffed a shaky laugh. “Wow, you Canadians sure do love your plaid.” If he kept staring at my crotch like that, he would see how much I loved his attention on me too.
Much to my dismay, Fable did not undress in kind. In fact, after crawling into the bed, he hiked the thick quilt up so high that all I could see were his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked. His body was quivering.
“Nomno—” he began, voice muffled, then jerked the comforter down and tried again. “No, I’m not okay. It’s freezing in here! How are you okay in just your boxers?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t like I could simply explain that shifters ran warmer than humans.
“Well, do you mind if we light a fire? It’s only going to get colder overnight.” His face turned pleading.
I gestured for him to stay where he was, and I crouched in front of the fireplace.
Someone had already set the kindling and starter, ready for a match, so within a few minutes, I had a decent little blaze going.
I added a few of the split logs from the stack and then closed the grate.
It wouldn’t last all night, but it quickly began to heat the small space.
Turning off the light, I crawled under the covers. “Good night, Fable.”
He peeked out, limning his profile in muted golden light. “Good night, Guy.” Before he disappeared once more into his blanket cocoon.
I watched him, unable to peel my eyes away from him.
Long after his breathing had deepened, I obsessed over the array of his eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, the crimp in his left eyebrow.
My mate’s presence on the other side of the pillow barrier called to me, but I was a man of my word.
I would not cross that line until he asked me to.
Eventually I drifted off to dreams of what future may lie ahead for us, the endless possibilities that could bring us to a happy ever after.
I woke sometime in the early hours of dawn, a strange vibration shaking the bed. Frowning, I cracked my eyes open to see that the fire had died down, and Fable was shivering violently. I could hear his teeth chattering even over the howling wind outside.
Seeing him like this made me ache in a way I’d never felt before. Like the phantom pain I’d heard described after amputation, like there was a piece of me missing, and I needed to make it right. I reached for him but hesitated, my hand hovering over the pillow barrier.
Notre ame s?ur. Réclamez-le, my beaver said, urging me to claim our mate. To take him and protect him forever.
No, I made a promise. But even as I said it, I remembered the exact words. My promise had been to stay on my side of the bed. Neither of us had said anything about him being on my side…
I bit my lip, battling the inner tug-of-war. On the one hand, I was desperate to show he could trust me. But at this rate, it was practically a matter of life or death, right? I mean, he was literally freezing! Sharing body heat was a legitimate survival technique.
Decision made, I threw the pillows aside and snatched Fable around the waist, dragging him until he was up against me.
Instantly, even in his sleep, he registered the change in temperature and burrowed even closer.
His nose was like an icicle on my chest, his fingers and toes even worse, as he sought out the source of heat.
His shaking settled, and he sighed blissfully in his sleep.
I wondered if he felt the same contentment, the same sense of rightness, as I did.
I sure hoped so, otherwise I could have a fight on my hands in the morning.
Smiling, I decided it was worth it. I brought my arms around him and closed my eyes, ready to face everything that came next.