Chapter Eigh #2
“I know.” Bayne finally entered the kitchen properly, moving with that fluid grace that made him look like he was stalking even when just walking. “I’m not good at this. The talking part.”
“You seemed pretty good at talking when you were threatening Vaughn.”
“That’s different. That’s protecting. This is”—Bayne gestured vaguely between them—“complicated.”
Clint turned off the heat, plating the reheated pasta with more force than strictly necessary.
“Everything about this is complicated. You show up bleeding, can’t remember anything, someone’s hunting you, and now apparently, we’re mates, which means something I don’t fully understand but sounds pretty fucking permanent. ”
“It is permanent.” Bayne’s voice had gone serious again. “For me, anyway. You can walk away if you want. I won’t stop you.”
Something about the way he said it, careful and controlled like he was preparing for rejection, made Clint’s chest do uncomfortable things.
“I’m not walking away.” The words came out before he could think them through. “I’m just pissed you didn’t tell me.”
Relief flickered across Bayne’s features, there and gone so fast Clint almost missed it.
Setting the plates on the table took more concentration than it should have. Every movement felt too aware, too conscious of Bayne watching him. The familiar routine of lunch had gone sideways, charged with something that made his skin feel too tight.
“Eat,” Clint said, sitting down harder than he’d meant to. “Before it gets cold again.”
Watching Bayne eat shouldn’t have been interesting, but somehow it was.
The way he held his fork, the careful attention he paid to each bite despite probably being able to inhale the entire plate in seconds.
Even annoyed, Clint found himself tracking the movement of Bayne’s throat when he swallowed.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
“This mate thing,” Clint said, needing to fill the silence before it got too heavy. “Is it why I can’t stop...”
“What?”
Heat crawled up his neck. “Nothing. Forget it.”
But Bayne was already leaning forward, eyes focused. “Can’t stop what?”
“Thinking about you.” The admission came out rough, embarrassed. “Even when I’m pissed, I keep noticing stupid things. Like how you hold your fork or the way your jaw moves when you’re thinking.”
Something shifted in Bayne’s expression, pupils dilating slightly. “That’s not the mate bond. That’s just attraction.”
“Oh.” Clint stabbed at his pasta with unnecessary violence. “Great. So I’m just regular pathetic, not mystically pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic.” Bayne’s hand moved across the table, fingers brushing Clint’s wrist. Just that small touch sent heat racing up his arm. “The bond doesn’t create feelings. It just recognizes what’s already there. Or what could be there.”
“Could be?”
“If we let it.” Bayne’s thumb traced a small circle on Clint’s pulse point, and breathing suddenly required conscious effort. “The bond doesn’t force anything. It just says ‘this person matters more than anything else ever will.’”
Clint should pull his hand away. Should maintain some distance while his brain processed all this. Instead, he found himself turning his wrist, letting Bayne’s fingers slide against his palm.
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Only if you let it be.” Bayne’s grip shifted, fingers interlacing with Clint’s. “Right now, it’s just us. In your kitchen. Eating mediocre leftover pasta.”
“Hey, that pasta is perfectly adequate.”
Bayne’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but made Clint’s stomach flip anyway. “Adequately mediocre.”
“Ass.”
“Probably.” Bayne’s thumb kept moving against Clint’s hand, each sweep sending sparks up his arm. “But I’m your ass, apparently.”
The laugh bubbled up before Clint could stop it. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
“I’ve got worse ones.”
“God help me.” But the anger had mostly dissipated, replaced by something warmer. Still complicated, still overwhelming, but less sharp around the edges.
Bayne stood, tugging gently on their joined hands. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you and reaching across the table is uncomfortable.”
“You want to kiss me, but I have to come to you?”
Bayne was out of his chair in seconds, pulling Clint to his feet. They stood close enough to share breath. Then Clint smelled something incredible—soap from the morning shower, the faint musk of wolf underneath, and something wild Clint never wanted tamed.
“Still pissed at me?” Bayne’s free hand came up, fingers threading through Clint’s hair.
“Yes.” But it came out more breathless than unconvincing.
“Good. I deserve it.” Bayne’s mouth brushed against his jaw. “But I’m going to kiss you anyway.”
“Arrogant.”
“Definitely.” Another almost-kiss, this time just below his ear. “Tell me to stop.”
Clint’s hands found Bayne’s chest instead, fingers curling into his shirt. “Stop talking.”
Bayne’s mouth claimed his with intent, tongue sliding past his lips with a confidence that made Clint’s knees weak. The hand in his hair tightened, angling his head for better access, while the other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against that solid frame.
Heat flared through Clint’s body, every nerve greedy for more. His hands fisted in the thick fabric of Bayne’s shirt. Soft lips pressed to his, not just once, but over and over, mouth moving in lush pursuit. At first, slow, savoring Clint, then hungrier.
“Now are you still pissed at me?” Bayne murmured, breath warm against his lips.
“Starting to reconsider my position.” Clint’s fingers found skin where Bayne’s shirt had ridden up, tracing the muscle there. “Multiple positions, actually.”
Bayne made a sound that was pure wolf—hungry and approving. His mouth moved to Clint’s throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the sting. “Want to take you apart. Want to learn every sound you make.”
“Are you going to tell me about any other life-altering supernatural bonds first?”
A quiet laugh rumbled out Bayne, a sound that tugged at something low and needy inside Clint. “Just the one.”
Moving required coordination neither of them really had.
They kept stopping to kiss against walls, Bayne’s hands sliding under Clint’s shirt, mapping skin with calloused fingers that left trails of fire.
By the time they made it upstairs, Clint’s shirt was gone and his scrub pants hung low on his hips.
Bayne pressed him against another wall, mouth dropping to Clint’s neck, biting, sucking, making him whimper.
“You make such beautiful noises,” Bayne said, voice jagged, already breathless. “Keep going.”
Lips dragged down Clint’s jaw, nipping at his throat. He gasped and clawed at Bayne’s torso.
They made it to the bedroom, though Clint couldn’t say how.
One minute they were making out in the hallway, the next, clothes hit the floor.
Bayne’s skin was golden under the warm lights, muscles flexing as he moved.
Clint couldn’t stop touching him. The ridge of Bayne’s shoulder.
His biceps. The small freckle just beneath his collarbone.
Every inch was distraction and invitation, and he needed more.
He leaned in, grazing his teeth over Bayne’s ear, then down to his throat, tasting him right back. Bayne arched against him. Clint felt the tremor in the man’s body, the way Bayne pulsed under his tongue.
“Damn, Clint,” he groaned, “if you keep that up, I’m not gonna last.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to last,” he teased
Growling, Bayne’s hands slid lower, fingers gripping Clint’s ass. “You’re trouble.”
“You love it.”
Bayne smiled wickedly, gaze hungry. “Damn right I do.”
What followed was systematic destruction.
With each touch of mouth against skin, Bayne mapped out areas on Clint’s body he never knew could make him gasp.
A brush of lips against the hollow of his neck.
The gentle scrape of teeth along his hipbone.
A warm tongue gliding over the inside of his wrist where his pulse raced wildly against his sensitive flesh.
By the time Bayne’s mouth reached his cock, Clint was already wrecked. Fingers twisted in the sheets, back arched, every nerve ending lit up like a city grid.
He devoured Clint like he was starved, like he’d been waiting for this all night. Maybe his entire life.
Clint wanted him to take whatever he wanted. It felt fucking incredible. Bayne lapped at the head, tongue swirling over the slit. Clint almost lost it right there. His whole body trembled, hips jerking up for more.
Bayne nipped Clint’s inner thigh, then worked his way up, licking and sucking every inch. When he reached Clint’s balls, his mouth was hot, greedy. He took one in, rolling it on his tongue, then sucked the other, while stroking Clint’s cock with his hand.
With a wet pop, he released Clint’s balls. “Could do this for hours,” he said, breath ghosting over Clint’s sensitive flesh. “Take you to the edge over and over without letting you fall. See how long before you beg.”
“I don’t beg.” A complete lie. Clint would beg right now if his pride would let him.
“We’ll see.” And then Bayne’s mouth was on him, hot and wet and perfect.
Time went sideways. It could’ve been minutes or hours that Bayne worked him over, bringing him close before backing off, until Clint was gasping and cursing and maybe actually begging a little. His thighs trembled with the effort of not just taking what he wanted, hips held down by a firm grip.
“Jesus,” Clint gasped, clutching the blanket. “Please… Fuck, please.”
Bayne pulled off, lips swollen and eyes dark with want. “Please what?”
Pride officially deceased, he grabbed Bayne’s hair and pulled him up for a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. “Want you. Want to feel it tomorrow. Want—”
“You want me to fuck you?” Bayne’s voice had gone rough, eyes dark with the same need coursing through Clint’s veins.
“God, yes.”
Bayne caged him in with his arms. The position should’ve felt threatening given their size difference, but all Clint felt was safe. Protected. Wanted.
His eyes never left Clint’s, not for a second.
“Tell me you have supplies,” Bayne said, voice jagged, already breathless.
“Nightstand.” Clint reached for the drawer, fumbling for the lube he kept there.
Bayne took it from him, sitting back on his heels. The way his muscles flexed as he moved had Clint drooling.
Heat shot through Clint as Bayne poured lube onto his fingers, coating them with slick. Cold hit Clint’s ass, then Bayen’s finger pressed against his hole.
Clint gasped at the first touch. Bayne circled his rim, teasing, then pushed the tip in. Pressure burned, then melted into pleasure. Clint’s pulse pounded in his ears.
“Relax,” Bayne murmured, voice soft.
Clint tried. The next finger slid in easier. Bayne stretched him with slow, twisting motions, scissoring his fingers inside him. Sensation built, sharp at first, then sweet, so good Clint’s toes curled.
Then he fucked himself back onto those fingers. Needed more.
“That’s it,” Bayne praised. “Open up for me. God, you’re perfect.”
A third finger was added, and now Clint was panting. Sweat slicked his chest, his cock leaking onto the comforter.
Bayne worked him open, fingers thrusting, stretching. Each time he crooked his finger, pleasure exploded through Clint.
“You’re so fucking responsive,” Bayne marveled. “I could watch you all night.”
Clint almost came, right then. Had to bite his lip to stop it. The fingers withdrew, leaving Clint empty and desperate. Breathlessly, Clint watched, hungry for his wolf.
More lube sounds then Bayne was kneeling between his legs. Strong hands gripped Clint’s thighs, spreading him wide, then Bayne pressed the head of his cock against Clint’s entrance.
Slick heat built as Bayne worked the tip past the ring of muscle. The pressure stole Clint’s breath. His body clenched around Bayne, desperate and greedy.
Slow but steady, Bayne pushed. The ache gave way to pleasure, then something deeper. Clint wanted him as deep as he could go.
He bottomed out, hips snug against Clint’s ass. They both groaned, the sound almost symphonic. Bayne held himself still, just letting Clint feel every inch, every throb of his cock deep inside him.
“God, you feel incredible,” Bayne breathed. Honey-colored eyes filled with hunger and need gazed at him.
Pressure spiked every time he thrust. Clint couldn’t believe how good it felt, so full. Bayne rolled his hips, grinding against his ass, making Clint moan.
Sweat dripped down his forehead. His muscles shook with restraint.
“You want it harder?” he growled.
“Yes! Fuck me.”
Pulling almost all the way out, Bayne slammed home. The motion knocked the air from Clint’s lungs, but he wanted more.
He wrapped his legs around Bayne’s waist, ankles locking at the small of the man’s back. Bayne fucked him deep, slow and perfect at first, then picking up speed. Each stroke made Clint’s cock throb. He was so close, he could barely think.
Leaning down, Bayne bit his neck, then licked where he left the mark. He stroked Clint’s cock in time with his thrusts.
“Fucking love how you take me,” he said, voice rough with effort. “So tight. So good. All Mine.”
That word undid Clint. He arched up, digging his fingers into his wolf’s arms. “Yours. I want it, Bayne. All of it.”
He kissed Clint, messy and hard, while he fucked him right into the mattress. He kissed Clint, messy and hard, while he fucked him right into the mattress. No chance Clint would last. It was too much, too good, better than anything he’d ever had.
Then sharp teeth grazed the spot where neck met shoulder, and Clint’s entire body went tight.
“All mine,” Bayne growled and sank them in.
Pleasure exploded through Clint. His orgasm shattered, vision whiting out as he spilled over his fist. Simultaneously, warmth flooded him as Bayne pulsed inside him, hips grinding deep like he wanted to crawl inside and stay there.
Bayne eased his canines free, licking the wound as Clint’s heart stuttered then suddenly synced with another rhythm. He could feel Bayne’s heartbeat like it was inside his own chest.
Clint couldn’t explain how he knew this. He just did.
Then something shimmered like moonlight on water between them. Through his pleasure-drunk haze, Clint watched a ribbon of silver mist rise from Bayne’s chest, unfurling in the air like smoke from extinguished candles.
It twisted upward, seeking, until it met the emerald vapor that had begun ascending from Clint’s own sternum, the green glowing with the deep verdancy of forest shadows.
The ribbons spiraled together in lazy, hypnotic loops, two serpents courting in midair. For three heartbeats they hung suspended, before the green shot into Bayne’s body like an arrow finding its mark, and the silver slammed into Clint’s with enough force to steal his breath.
“What was that?” Clint gasped, his body still trembling from the aftershock.
Behind him, still buried deep, Bayne’s breathing was ragged “The most incredible thing I’ve seen.” His hips jerked forward involuntarily, drawing another gasp from Clint. “We just witnessed our bond sealing.”
A strange feeling pooled in Clint’s chest where that silver ribbon had entered. The sensation started spreading, rich and warm, like honey pouring slowly over heat.
He felt connected. Like someone had installed a direct line between them, and now he could feel Bayne everywhere—not his thoughts but his presence. As if he’d known this man his entire life instead of two days.
Which was completely ridiculous. You just had sex with a wolf shifter, saw green vapor escape your body, and now you’re bonded for life. Yet it’s a sensation you freak out about? You’re ass backward.
Still, it was strange as hell feeling someone else’s pulse like an echo of his own.
They collapsed together, Bayne’s weight pinning Clint against the mattress. Not crushing, just grounding. Sweat cooled on their skin while they caught their breath, neither moving except for the occasional twitch of oversensitive nerves.
Bayne traced lazy patterns on Clint’s stomach. His touch left trails of warmth, or maybe that was just Clint’s overwrought nervous system refusing to calm down. Either way, he found himself leaning into it, seeking more contact even though his body felt wrung out.
“So we’re actually bonded now?” Clint turned his head to study Bayne’s profile. “What exactly does that entail?” Maybe he should’ve clarified a few things before his hormones had taken over.
“For shifters, it means everything.” Bayne’s fingers found the bite mark on Clint’s shoulder, pressing gently. “You’re mine now. Officially.”
Mine. The possessiveness should’ve irritated him, but instead, it felt as if something had finally settled inside of him. Like he finally understood the true meaning of home.
“That would explain why I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime,” Clint said. “Which is completely insane, but so is everything else.”
Bayne’s hand stilled on his stomach. “The bond recognizes what’s meant to be. Time doesn’t matter.”
Meant to be. Clint wanted to argue with the concept, point out that destiny was just pattern recognition and confirmation bias.
Still, Clint couldn’t argue with how good it felt to just lie there. Sheets clung to his skin, sticky from sweat and sex, but he didn’t have it in him to care. Not when Bayne curled in behind him, a thigh heavy over his legs, big arm banded around his waist.
His lungs filled with the wolf’s scent, a mix of wild and human, and there went that feeling again.
Warm skin, a heartbeat thudding at his back, and the soft, questionable purr of a cat who’d taken up sentry duty at the foot of the bed.
The air smelled like laundry, sweat, and the last trace of garlic from lunch.
Home.
He let himself drift, content to let his mate’s weight anchor him, even if the man ran a dozen degrees hotter than the average space heater. A dry laugh almost slipped out. Soul bonds, supernatural sex, and now spooning.
Life was weird.
His life was even weirder, so he might as well embrace the chaos.
He would, right after a forty-hour nap with…his mate. Much better word than boyfriend.
Sleep started to pull him under when he felt Bayne tense. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.
Bayne stayed rigid, his hand pinning Clint in place like a warning.
Someone was at the door, and judging by Bayne’s reaction, it wasn’t the Girl Scouts.