Chapter 24 Theodore #2
I could only moan and nod. It still hurt, but the fullness, the way Rory filled every empty space inside me—it was everything I’d never known I needed.
Bit by bit, I relaxed, letting the silk of the sleeping bag caress my skin, letting Rory comfort me with touches and kisses to my spine. Every point where our skin connected burned. I ached for even more contact, craved the weight of him against me.
“Does it feel good?” Rory asked.
I groaned. “So good.”
“Shall I fuck you now?”
“Hmm? You’re already fucking me.”
Without warning, he pulled out almost completely. The sudden emptiness was devastating—my body clenched desperately, trying to hold on to him. Then he slid back in, inch by torturous inch, so slowly I could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as it filled me again.
Oh.
The groan that tore from my throat was animalistic, primal. Nothing had prepared me for this—the deliberate slide of him into me, the way my body welcomed him back like coming home. Each millimetre was agony and ecstasy braided together until I couldn’t distinguish between them.
Rory’s hands gripped my thighs, pulling them back towards him until we were flush, his chest pressed against my back. The angle drove him deeper, hitting my prostate so deliciously stars exploded behind my eyelids, brighter than the Northern Lights.
My hand lurched towards my cock, desperate for friction, for release from the building pressure.
Rory’s palm cracked against my hand.
“Don’t you dare,” he commanded, his voice carrying an authority that made me tingly. “That’s mine. I’m going to be the one to make you come.”
His hand replaced mine, wrapping around my cock with possessive certainty.
The contrast was maddening—his slow, deliberate thrusts paired with the quick, sure strokes of his fist. He fucked me like he was memorising every angle, every response, whilst his hand worked me with the confidence of ownership.
Each snap of his hips had his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside me whilst his fingers traced patterns of fire along my length.
The rhythm was hypnotic—in, stroke, out, squeeze—building something vast and terrible and beautiful inside me.
“Feel that?” he whispered against my ear, teeth grazing my lobe. “Feel how you’re mine?”
I could only whimper in response, lost in the symphony of sensation he was conducting. His cock filled me completely whilst his hand claimed me utterly, each movement a declaration that I belonged to him now.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There were no other words—I was drowning in him, in us, in the way he played my body like an instrument he’d been born to master.
My arms gave out entirely, and I collapsed face first into the sleeping bag. The silky soft fabric cushioned my cheek, cool against my burning skin whilst Rory continued his relentless rhythm above me.
And then Rory was stretched out over me, his chest pressing against my back—a comforting, intensely satisfying weight.
His heart pounded so hard I could feel it, each beat hammering through me like a second pulse.
His hands gripped my arms, holding me steady.
Soft lips found the space between my shoulder blades as he pressed tender kisses there whilst he moved.
…Never felt anything like this. Never want it to end. Want to stay buried inside him forever…
Rory’s thoughts crashed through me, intense, desperate, and I moaned into the fabric beneath me.
His lips found my shoulder blade, pressing a tender kiss there before his teeth scraped across.
He moved to the back of my neck, sucking a mark into the tender flesh just below my hairline.
Lightning shot through me—the wet heat of his mouth, the gentle scrape of teeth, the way his tongue soothed each fresh mark he left on my skin.
His hips ground against me in slow, devastating circles, each movement sending shockwaves through my already overwrought system. I wasn’t going to last much longer.
“I want to see you,” I gasped, turning my head to catch his eye. “Need to see you.”
Those blue-green eyes I’d become obsessed with met mine, pupils blown wide with desire.
Without hesitation, Rory pulled out—the sudden emptiness making me whimper—and turned me over.
He lifted my left leg, settling it on his shoulder.
The new position opened me up, leaving me utterly exposed beneath his hungry gaze.
Rory’s slide back in was so easy, we both groaned. This angle was deeper, more intense, but most importantly, it allowed me to watch his beautiful face as he filled me.
“Teddy,” he breathed, beginning to rock against me with slow, measured thrusts. “I… I feel so close to you right now.”
Before I could attempt to reply, his thumb found the spot on my throat where he’d marked me, rubbing over the tender skin as he leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was bottomless, endless.
Everything. I surrendered completely, swallowing down his whimpers and needy moans as his tongue explored my mouth with the same thoroughness he’d shown the rest of my body.
“Rory,” I rasped against his lips.
…baby…baby…baby…
The word echoed through his thoughts like a desperate chant. He wanted me to say it again, wanted to be called baby. Wanted it badly.
“My precious baby,” I whispered, stroking every inch of him I could reach—the trembling muscles of his shoulders, the flutter of pulse beneath his neck, the fevered heat of his chest under my shirt.
The smile he gave me was beyond blinding, beyond beautiful.
“Feel how perfectly we fit together,” he said, voice thick with desperation, like he was begging me to agree that we belonged, that this could work, that we could be something real.
My heart seized.
“Perfectly, baby,” I whispered against his lips, my hands cupping his face. “We fit together perfectly.” I pulled him closer, needing every inch of contact. “You feel so good inside me. I want to keep you here forever.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it—forever—and my breath caught at the weight behind it.
But Rory’s eyes blazed brighter, and suddenly his hips snapped forward with renewed urgency. The gentle rhythm shattered into something fierce, claiming. Each thrust drove deeper, harder, until I was gasping beneath him.
“I’m so glad I get to fuck you raw,” he growled against my throat, his hand wrapping around my cock possessively. “Fill you up with me.”
His fist moved in perfect counterpoint to his thrusts, stroking me with the same desperate intensity that drove his hips. It was all too much—being filled and claimed, his hand quickly working me towards the edge.
Something new began flowing through our bond—not just his desire or mine, but something richer, more profound. It poured from him into me like liquid gold, warm and precious and transformative. Tender yet fierce, desperate yet patient.
This felt like making love.
The realisation hit me like a revelation, causing my heart to thump even faster.
“Rory—” His name broke from my lips as my body went rigid beneath him, every muscle seizing as pleasure crashed through me. I came with a strangled cry, spilling across my stomach whilst he continued to move inside me, drawing out every last tremor of release.
He followed moments later, his face contorting in blissful surrender as he buried himself deep. I felt him pulse inside me, gorgeously hot, marking me from within. A primal groan tore from somewhere deep in his chest before he caught my mouth in a long kiss.
Then Rory’s tongue found the mess on my stomach, long warm strokes that had me shivering beneath him until I was drenched in his saliva instead.
Once I was thoroughly cleaned, he made a little satisfied hum, cocking his head to one side.
He collapsed on top of me, and for a moment we lay there panting, hearts hammering against each other through sweat-slicked skin.
…forever…maybe he really means it…
The thought drifted through me like smoke, carrying with it all of Rory’s hope and uncertainty.
It was so powerful that my mouth immediately snapped open to reply, to comfort, to reassure.
Though something froze my tongue—the rational part of my mind, beginning to catalogue all the reasons this was madness. We’d known each other properly for days, not months. This mate bond business was supernatural craziness I still didn’t fully understand.
But beneath all that sensible protest, something deeper stirred. Something that had been growing since the moment Rory first challenged me, first made me laugh despite myself, first showed me glimpses of the fierce loyalty hidden beneath his chaotic exterior.
Forever: a word that should terrify,
instead it settles like destiny—
inevitable as sunrise,
warm as his eyes meeting mine.
Rory deserved honesty. He deserved someone who wouldn’t flinch away from this wonderful thing that was building between us. He also deserved better than empty promises made in the aftermath of earth-shattering sex.
I slipped my hand under the shirt to trace patterns on his shoulder, buying myself time whilst my thoughts churned.
“Forever with you would be…” I whispered against his temple, feeling him tense slightly in anticipation. His breathing fell shallow, waiting. I felt his hope and fear warring with each other, both emotions so acute they made my heart squeeze.
I took a deep, long breath.
“Forever with you would be the greatest adventure I never knew I was looking for.”
Rory’s eyes widened, those impossible blue-green depths suddenly bright as sea glass caught in sunlight. For a heartbeat, I could have sworn I saw actual stars dancing in them.
Joy crashed through our connection like a tidal wave, so pure and vast it knocked the breath from my lungs.
The emotion was effervescent, bubbling up from somewhere deep in Rory’s chest and flooding into me with such force I felt weightless.
Untethered. As if I might simply drift away on the current of his happiness, floating up through the tent roof to join the aurora still painting the sky above us.
But beneath that brilliant surge of elation, something else flickered—a sharp spike of terror. Brief but unmistakable, lightning illuminating storm clouds for just an instant.
Perhaps that’s what prompted the familiar curve of Rory’s lips, that signature smirk sliding into place. The one that usually preceded him saying something utterly outrageous or taking the piss.
“Christ, Teddy,” he drawled. “That might be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me. And you once compared my eyes to tempestuous seas and beautiful skies or whatever.”
His fingers traced idle patterns on my chest, but I could feel the slight tremor in them. “What’s next? How about a sonnet about how my ass is like two perfect moons rising over the Scottish moors?”
I shook with laughter. This was, of course, pure Rory, deflecting sincerity with humour when the feelings became too intense, too real. Too frightening.
It would take months, maybe years of moments like this—actions over words, consistency over grand gestures—to properly earn his trust. But that was okay. I was up for the challenge.
I caught his wandering hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Actually,” I said, matching his teasing tone whilst holding his gaze. “I was thinking more along the lines of comparing your habit of making jokes when you’re terrified to a hedgehog rolling into a ball.”
His mock scowl was immediate and fierce. “I’m not terrified.”
“Yes you are,” I whispered, leaning closer until our noses nearly touched. “But that’s okay. I’m terrified too.”
Rory’s surprise rippled outward, followed by something softer. Relief, perhaps, that he wasn’t alone in this staggering thing growing between us.
“Come here,” I murmured, pulling him down until he was cradled against my chest, his head tucked beneath my chin.
As he melted into me, his mouth found that tender spot on my throat once more—a quick, possessive press of lips and the gentle pull of his mouth that made me exhale sharply.
Claiming me one last time before surrendering to the quiet.
The sharp edges of Rory’s fear smoothed away as contentment began flowing—warm honey spilling into me, golden and sweet. His breathing deepened, syncing with mine as I stroked through his hair, those ridiculously messy blond strands still soft despite how much I’d touched them.
I sighed, reality creeping back in around the edges of our perfect bubble. “We missed the end of the lights. Oops. But anyway, the solar storm is surely over now. We should try Isla and Dev on the sat phone.”
Rory grumbled something unintelligible against my chest but eventually reached for the satellite phone. The silence went heavy as he dialled Isla’s number first.
It rang. And rang. And rang. No answer.
He tried Dev next, fingers moving more urgently now across the keypad. Again, the endless ringing echoed through the tent.
No answer.
We looked at each other. The torchlight flickered.
And I couldn’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The Northern Lights had finished their dance… but something else entirely had begun.