Foot, Meet Mouth （Part 2）
The moment Killian was out of the cabin, he suppressed all his sounds.
He should’ve made it a priority to locate Crush’s second gun. The thing was, he hadn’t thought the attacks would be relentless like this. He hadn’t expected to be separated from Crush when danger came knocking again.
He kicked off his shoes and crept through the trees, holding his knives loosely in his fists. Two voices rang through the forest.
“If you’re going to divebomb me, the least you could do is bring some chips!” Crush.
The stranger replied, “I brought you gifts!”
“Like hell toilet paper is a gift!”
An indignant sniff. “Yeah, tell me that when you run out of TP. You didn’t buy that at the store, did you?”
No, they hadn’t.
Crush must’ve realized it too; he didn’t have a comeback for it.
The words sounded harmless enough that Killian relaxed slightly.
He continued to inch forward through the trees, toward the two men facing off with each other.
The stranger was shorter and slimmer than Crush, with a head of curly gray hair.
The strangest thing about him though, was the bright purple bathrobe he wore.
It came with a huge embroidered eggplant on the front, and a huge embroidered peach on the back.
What kind of person showed up wearing that in the middle of a forest?
Crush didn’t seem to notice Killian. But his visitor did, sharp eyes snapping onto Killian even though Killian was doing his damnedest to stay silent.
Killian froze. Crush looked over then, following the other man’s gaze. He clocked the knives in Killian’s grip and raised an eyebrow.
Killian scowled. “I thought we were being attacked!”
A slow smile spread across Crush’s face. “And the first thing you did was run out here with weapons. This is Hansel, my butler.”
That would explain Hansel’s lack of surprise. The Butler Brothers were shape shifters, employed for home security because of their unparalleled hearing.
Instead of staying shut, Killian’s mouth moved. “Where’s Gretel?”
Hansel gasped and grabbed his crotch. “Right here. I named him Gretel.”
Crush pinched the bridge of his nose.
Killian recoiled in horror. “I did not just learn that.”
Hansel wriggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “Gretel and I, we go everywhere together. We’re literally joined at the hip. Sometimes I build a gingerbread house around him. Then I bring in gingerbread ninjas and stage fights all around my stuffed gingerbread house.”
“Holy rabbit gods,” Killian whimpered, wishing he could bury his face in his hands. But he couldn’t do that without stabbing himself in the eye. “Why are we still talking about this?”
With a growl, Crush stepped between Killian and Hansel.
“You should try it, Howl Master,” Hansel said with a leer. “Have Killian build a gingerbread castle for your, ah, battering ram. You can decorate it with cock ‘frosting’ and spread it around with a butter knife. Or a fleshy rod. Add some sprinkles. It will taste like the rainbow.”
Killian buried his face against Crush’s broad back and tried not to perish from mortification. “Maybe I like thinking about, uh, your carrot, but not with an audience! No one enjoys carrots with an audience!”
Then he froze. Did I really say that? Out loud?
“My carrot?” Crush purred. “How big do you like your carrots, bunny rabbit?”
Killian wanted to bury himself under a pile of rugs.
“I need to stop talking!” But his mouth just kept going.
“Your carrot is like a tree trunk. Big and veiny. Like the tree of life. I thought it was going to rip through your sweatpants and charge into, um, a tunnel. To save a princess. But I don’t want you to change into a different pair of sweatpants, because then it won’t have the outline of your carrot anymore! ”
Why did I say all of that? Why? Killian needed to move to Siberia and never show his face again.
Hansel snickered. “Oh, my. You should definitely water your carrot, Wolf Consort. Carrots love being wet.”
“C-consort?!” Killian squeaked. He wasn’t going to think about Hansel’s advice. “Oh gods, oh gods. Carrots are like, my thing. I would go to sleep cuddling one if I could. They taste so delicious.”
Crush choked.
“They love being in deep, dark places,” Hansel said gleefully. “When you give them enough warmth, they will reward you by growing thicker. Some carrots even have a bulb at the base; they store more sweet goodness in there—”
“Hansel!” Crush snapped, but he sounded embarrassed.
“I love sweet good things,” Killian blurted, closing his eyes in horror. There was a trail of slick going down his thighs. It worsened when he nuzzled Crush’s back and got lungfuls of Crush’s scent. If he reached around, he would find Crush’s big, hard...
“Hansel,” Crush hissed dangerously. “You will shut up about cocks right now.”
“Oh? Because you’re the only person who can talk about them?” Hansel cackled.
“You already gave me the book of pickup lines,” Crush growled. “I can handle everything else.”
“Oh, oh! Did you tell Wolf Consort why I gave you that book? It’s because—”
Crush stiffened; his back muscles bunched against Killian’s face. “Don’t you dare—”
“—Howl Master couldn’t shut up about this omega he met on a mission,” Hansel said, leaping away when Crush detached himself from Killian and lunged at him.
In a fake, deeper voice, Hansel added, “‘He has the most perfect face and ass. He fell asleep on my back and drooled on my fur. I never want to shower again; his saliva shall forever linger on my skin.’”
“I never said that,” Crush bellowed. He chased Hansel through the trees. “And I fucking showered!”
A helpless laugh burst out of Killian. “You talked about me?”
Crush met Killian’s gaze for a split second. Then he resumed chasing his butler. “Briefly.”
“He talked about you for days,” Hansel crowed, flouncing and flinging handfuls of glitter everywhere.
Crush turned red. He pounced and flattened Hansel against the ground, fangs extended, looking as though he wanted to rip out Hansel’s throat.
With a jolt, Killian realized that he was envious. Of Hansel. Who was trapped beneath the alpha, about to be bitten.
“I should get back inside,” Killian squeaked, flushing hot all over.
He turned tail and scrambled back to the cabin, making sure to tuck the knives back where they belonged. The shopping cart was doing a slow circuit around the living room, showing Naddie the pictures on the walls.
Killian breathed in deeply. “I need to forget I saw that.”
“Saw what?”
Killian jumped. “Why are you in here?!”
“This is my cabin.” Crush was leaning against the garage doorway, his arms folded, pecs and biceps bunching deliciously.
“Where’s your shirt?” Killian yelped.
“Around.” The alpha pushed away from the doorjamb. With slow, purposeful strides, he prowled into the kitchen, which suddenly seemed a lot smaller. Killian gulped. Crush opened one of the bakery boxes, picking out a flattened maple donut.
Pink lips wrapped around the side of the donut; Crush’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. His tongue flicked out, catching the bits of maple frosting stuck to his lips.
The corners of Crush’s lips tugged up. “Your mouth is open.”
Killian patted his own face, realizing that Crush was telling the truth. “Crap! Uh. Um. Sometimes I have trouble keeping my mouth shut.”
Understatement of the century.
Crush laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“It’s unfair, how good you look,” Killian blurted. He slapped his hands over his mouth. “Fuck!”
“I look good?” Crush finished the rest of the donut, licking his fingers. His tongue looked so damp and soft that Killian shuddered.
The alpha grinned, stalking closer. Killian backed away. Except Crush took larger steps, closing the distance between them.
There weren’t many points in his life when Killian truly felt like prey, but this was one of them. Crush towered over him, backing him against the counter, trapping Killian with his broad, muscular body.
“Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?” Killian squeaked.
Crush’s grin was all sharp teeth. “It might be you.”
Calloused fingers caught his chin. Crush tipped Killian’s face up so their gazes met. Somehow, Crush had another maple donut, and he took a slow bite out of it, never once breaking their gaze. Then he swallowed and nudged that sweet, soft treat against Killian’s lips.
“Take a bite, sweetheart,” Crush murmured.
It was the part where he had already bitten, teeth marks crimping the edge of the donut. When Killian sniffed, he caught a familiar forest scent.
His heart pounded. And he opened his mouth, biting into Crush’s bite mark, taking Crush’s scent and saliva into his mouth.
It felt forbidden. They hadn’t even touched intimately, much less exchanged fluids.
He chewed and swallowed, Crush’s taste and smell going down his throat. His scent is inside me.
“Good boy,” Crush purred.
Killian grew so wet, he swayed on his feet. “Um, wh-what?”
“Take another bite.” Crush trailed a corner of the donut over Killian’s lips, the ghost of a touch. “You like that, don’t you? You want to be a good omega. My good omega.”
Killian’s ass made so much slick, it drenched his underwear.
Crush’s pupils dilated. His nostrils flared, and Killian knew for sure that Crush could smell his slick.
“Oh gods,” Killian squeaked, shoving one hand over his mouth and the other over his ass, trying to cover up that scent. “You smelled nothing! That’s just... the dishwasher draining away the excess water!”
Crush watched him for a long moment. Then he smiled, taking another bite out of his donut. “You know what? Maybe it is just the dishwasher.”
And he turned away, stuffing the rest of the donut into his mouth.