Chapter 14 #3
Their pony cantered around in a tight circle as Milo finally caught up to what their pony must have been feeling for weeks.
Stupid beta fated mate instincts—or lack thereof.
Milo should have known from the second they met Rowan that he was fated to be theirs.
They felt so comfortable with him, and he’d allowed them to step farther into the fog in their head than they’d ever thought possible.
Their gender was still a work in progress, but maybe it was always going to be that way.
With Ray, Ethel, and Rowan by their side, they could do anything.
Except hide how unbelievably turned on they were. That was proving more challenging by the second.
Despite being in the middle of what was turning out to be a life changing make out session for Milo, that didn’t necessarily mean Rowan was on the same page and ready for more.
As Rowan’s tongue pressed assuredly into Milo’s mouth for what was now probably their thirtieth kiss, Milo clutched the hem of their dress and tried to subtly fan themself, giving their heated skin some much needed relief while also trying to tastefully rearrange the fabric.
Of course, all that did was draw Rowan’s attention to it.
He pulled back and looked down at Milo’s lap, his flushed cheeks turning somehow even darker.
“Sorry,” Milo said, releasing one hand to fan their own flaming cheeks. “I’m…it’s been a really long two days. Up and down, adrenaline and stress, and that was hot. Like, so hot.”
Rowan’s cheek dimpled on one side, but the other held that small smile Milo was coming to adore. “It was very hot.”
To try and be respectful, Milo kept their gaze away from Rowan’s lap, instead focusing on Rowan’s chest…and the way his pecs and shoulders pulled the fabric of his shirt taught and the sleeves stretched around his biceps, highlighting the dip and curve—
Milo groaned, tipping sideways into the couch and pressing the heel of their hand against themself. “I guess your hawk isn’t the only one who’s excitable.”
“That’s okay,” Rowan murmured, his voice rough around the edges.
“Is it?” Milo asked, closing their eyes and tipping their head back, seeking out some fresh air that wasn’t saturated with Rowan’s alpha pheromones.
Because, oh boy, was he putting them off. Maybe that was what this steamy feeling was. Milo could almost feel it on their skin.
Their pony mimed rubbing their face against Rowan, and Milo groaned. “While that was absolutely, unbelievably amazing—like seriously, best kisses ever—if there’s any hope for us watching a movie or doing anything else tonight, we might need to stop.”
Rowan hummed softly. “Is that what you want? To relax and watch a movie?”
Milo cracked one eye open. “Maybe with a few kisses here and there, too?”
As if to test them, Rowan slowly licked his bottom lip, and heat shot down into Milo’s groin again.
“Gods, okay, maybe no kisses. I don’t know how much more I can take,” Milo admitted.
Rowan turned his head away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m quite ready to jump into bed with you. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
The fire raging through Milo dimmed, and they took in a sharp breath through their nose to try and snuff it out entirely. “You didn’t lead me anywhere I didn’t want to go. I am perfectly happy to spend a relaxing evening with you. I just…”
Milo considered keeping the next part to themself, but they were dating now. They could be honest about this sort of thing, right?
“I sort of feel like I need to go rub one out real quick so I don’t get too excited again.”
Rowan collapsed heavily against the back of the couch. His eyes shamelessly roved up and down Milo’s body, settling on where their hand was still firmly pressed against themself. “You…could.”
Milo blinked at him.
“I mean, you could, uhm, get yourself off,” Rowan said.
The dimple that appeared in his cheek was probably the deepest one yet.
“Uh, well, I live in a studio,” Milo said, stating the obvious. “The only private space is the bathroom, and it isn’t really soundproof. I have a white noise machine for guests, but you sort of have to also use your imagination a bit or put the TV on really loud.”
For some reason, Rowan’s eyes flashed yellow again. “If you wanted to… I am your boyfriend. If it’s not too weird, I’d be more than happy to watch?”
Rowan grimaced as if he was as shocked by that little request as Milo was.
It’s not like Milo hadn’t thought about it. They’d thought about a lot of things when it came to Rowan, but all of them had been forbidden fantasies they only let themself have in the moments right before they got themself off or fell asleep.
“Are you sure? I promise, I can just get over it or whatever.”
Rowan’s eyebrow rose as he pointedly looked down at Milo’s lap again.
Well, you know what they say. Don’t look a gift hawk in the mouth.
“Okay, no, you’re right. This is a much better plan,” Milo said, jumping to their feet despite not really having even the semblance of a plan.
It might be a little too close for comfort if Milo just lifted their dress and began getting off on their couch.
Their bed was the obvious next choice, but the only other seat they had in their room was their “junk chair,” which currently housed all of Anabelle’s clothes that didn’t fit in their closet.
The last time they’d counted, it had been around nineteen shirts, twelve pairs of pants, and thirty to forty accessories.
Not one to be easily deterred, Milo grabbed the tall chair they’d been sitting on for their interrogation—er, chat—with Ray and Ruben and dragged it into their bedroom.
Rowan hadn’t gotten up to follow, so when Milo got the chair set up in the doorway, they turned to Rowan and made a flourishing gesture at it. “Your throne, my liege.”
That small smile appeared again, and Rowan stood up, slowly moving towards Milo like he was stalking prey.
Milo’s pony started all-out galloping around in wider and wider circles until it threatened to make Milo dizzy.
They spun in the same direction as their pony, their skirt twirling out around their thighs before they collapsed backward onto their bed.
Rowan silently sat down on the chair, one foot planted on the ground with the other on the footrest.
“Uh, so, I’ve never done this before,” Milo said, spreading their legs a little, just to watch the way Rowan’s eyes tracked the movement. “Do you want to talk to me? Or should I talk to you? I usually just sort of moan a lot and, uh, sometimes say your name.”
The mild embarrassment at that admission did nothing to lessen the heat growing in their belly. They cupped themself with one hand, and Rowan’s eyes bled fully yellow.
“You say my name?”
All Milo could do was nod.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” Rowan admitted.
“Really?” Milo asked, their voice cracking in the middle.
Rowan leaned forward on his chair, resting an elbow on his raised knee. “Yes, baby, really.”
Milo swallowed. “Oh. Okay.”
This time it was Rowan who silently nodded, his eyes fixed on the hem of Milo’s dress.
With all the tact they could muster, Milo grabbed two fistfuls of fabric and yanked it up and over their head.
Naturally, they somehow managed to get tangled in one of the arm holes, and then they remembered they were wearing tights, so they sort of kicked and shimmied their lower half while thrashing their arms about.
When they emerged, Rowan’s smile was huge, if not a little bemused, and his eyes were a shining brown.
“Ta da!” Milo said as they tossed the two offending items of clothing towards their closet.
They were wearing skin-tight black boxer briefs that really left nothing to the imagination. Performance anxiety had never been a thing for them, even when their performance involved nearly suffocating in their own clothes. They gripped themself through their underwear and gave an experimental tug.
A noise somewhere between a moan and a cough escaped their lips. Rowan’s irises glowed, and he pressed his hand against himself.
“Are you going to…too?” Milo asked, very eloquently.
Rowan froze, and Milo quickly backtracked.
“I mean, no pressure. Honestly, this is really hot. Especially if you tell me what to do, maybe? Like… harder, Milo. Yeah, baby, get it,” Milo said, doing their best impression of Rowan’s deep, rumbling voice.
Rowan slowly raised one eyebrow, his eyes shimmering like they couldn’t decide between staying yellow and reverting to brown. “That’s what I sound like, huh?”
“Well, that but, like, ten thousand times sexier.”
Rowan smirked, like, actually smirked, and Milo’s hand seemed to move of its own accord, stroking themself from root to tip. They let out a real moan this time and fell back onto one hand, angling their hips up with their next stroke.
“Gods...” Rowan whispered, curling his fingers around himself through his jeans.
He was a very decent size, filling up Rowan’s large hand and then some.
Milo whimpered as a dozen and one filthy ideas rolled through their mind.
The problem was, they had done too good a job of forcing themself to forget what Rowan looked like, and now they could only picture the shape of him through his jeans.
“Rowan, please…” Milo whispered. “I want to see you, but, like, on purpose, ‘cause I forced myself to jigsaw puzzle you with random naked bodies in my head so I wouldn't have an unfair advantage.”
Rowan blinked his gorgeous eyes and Milo got another great idea. “Actually, let me just make it fair.” Milo hooked their thumbs in their boxers and dragged them down, tossing them towards the rest of their clothes. “There! Now you’ve also seen me naked.”