Chapter Five
Miguel balanced two containers of leftovers from the diner as he unlocked the back door of his house. The key stuck for a moment, like it always did, before finally giving way with a satisfying click.
“Home sweet home.”
He pushed the door open with his shoulder to let Jared in first. “Nothing fancy, but it’s mine.”
Jared glanced around the small kitchen, taking in the secondhand appliances, the faded countertops, and the collection of beer bottles Miguel had forgotten to throw out. His place wasn’t much, but seeing Jared standing in his kitchen made the worn-out space feel different somehow.
A blur of black and white fur shot toward Miguel the moment they stepped inside. Psycho raced toward him, tail high, mouth open in a silent meow of greeting. Until she spotted Jared and skidded to a halt, fur instantly doubling in size. Her back arched high, yellow eyes wide as she let out a hiss that sounded like air escaping a punctured tire.
In a flash, she darted beneath the kitchen table then bolted down the hallway.
“What the flip?”
Jared stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open slightly.
“That would be Psycho,”
Miguel confirmed, kicking the door closed behind them.
“ That was Psycho?”
Jared’s eyebrows shot up.
“Just a cat with an attitude problem.”
Miguel set the food on the table.
“A wolf with a cat?”
Jared pointed out, still hovering awkwardly near the entrance. “That’s pretty weird.”
“Ironic, right? Found her behind the tavern during a storm. Tiny, soaked, angry as hell.”
He flicked on the lights, revealing a modest kitchen. “Nursed her back to health, and the little demon never left.”
A fond smile crossed his face. “You’re a cat,”
Miguel reminded him with a soft grin.
“Which is why she shouldn’t have run.”
“Don’t take it personally. She hates everyone except me, and even that’s questionable some days.”
Miguel hung his keys on a hook by the door, shrugging off his leather jacket.
“So I’m not special?”
Jared’s voice carried a teasing lilt.
Miguel stepped closer, crowding the guy against the wall without touching him. “I didn’t say that.”
Heat flared between them, thick and heady in the narrow space. For a moment, they just breathed each other in, Miguel catching notes of citrus and nervousness, while Jared’s pupils dilated slightly.
“Come on,”
Miguel finally said, stepping back. He led Jared through the kitchen into his living room, with worn but clean furniture, a few framed motorcycle prints on the walls, and bookshelves stuffed with paperbacks and car manuals.
“Make yourself at home.”
He gestured toward the couch before flipping on more lights. “Want something to drink? Beer? Water?”
“Water’s good.”
Jared lowered himself onto the couch with a wince, his thighs clearly still aching from the ride.
Heading back to the kitchen, Miguel grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. When he returned, he found Jared sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch.
“You look like you’re waiting for a doctor’s appointment.”
Miguel handed him one of the bottles. “Relax. Couch doesn’t bite.”
“Not sure I can relax when my legs feel like they’ve been through a meat grinder.”
Jared accepted the water with a small smile. “I might never walk normally again.”
“First time on a bike always leaves you sore. Trust me, I know.”
Miguel sat beside him, close enough for their thighs to touch. “Turn around.”
“What?”
Jared blinked at him.
“Turn around.”
Miguel made a circular motion with his finger.
Jared hesitated, then shifted on the couch. “You don’t have to—”
“Shut up and let me help.”
Miguel placed his hands on the guy’s slender back, feeling the tension knotted beneath his palms. “Relax.”
From the hallway, Psycho reappeared, creeping along the edge of the room with suspicious eyes locked on Jared. She darted across the coffee table, knocking magazines to the floor, then leaped to the bookshelf. Yellow eyes glared down at them as she knocked a paperback to the floor, tail lashing.
Then, living up to her name, she raced across the back of the couch before furiously scrabbling back out of the room.
“Your cat needs therapy,”
Jared muttered. “Or an exorcist.”
Miguel snorted, remembering the time Suero bathed her. Psycho had tried to carve him up with her nails. “If you want to sprinkle water on her, be my guest.”
His hands worked their way to Jared’s shoulders, kneading the tense muscles with just the right amount of pressure. Every knot he found, he pressed his thumbs into, working out the stiffness with slow, firm movements. Each press drew a soft gasp from Jared, whose head dropped forward.
“Too hard?”
he asked, easing up slightly.
“God, no.”
Jared’s voice came out rougher than before. “Feels amazing.”
Miguel smiled, moving his hands lower, tracing the curve of Jared’s spine through his thin T-shirt. The fabric bunched under his palms, revealing a sliver of skin above the man’s jeans.
Shit. He had Venus dimples. Miguel forced himself to focus on the massage and not the smooth skin he was dying to run his tongue over.
“These motorcycle muscles need attention,”
he murmured, working his way down to Jared’s lower back. His fingertips traced the waistband of the guy’s jeans, then slid beneath his shirt to make direct contact with warm skin.
Jared sucked in a quick breath. “Is that what we’re calling them now?”
“Got a better name?”
He kneaded the tight muscles at the base of Jared’s spine, feeling them gradually loosen.
“Torture devices,”
Jared suggested, his voice hitching when Miguel hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Death traps. Instruments of— oh .”
The word dissolved into a soft moan as Miguel pressed into a knot, the tiny sound sending blood rushing to his cock.
Another feline blur shot across the room—Psycho making her displeasure known—but he barely noticed. His focus had narrowed to where his skin met Jared’s, to the warmth radiating under the fabric of his shirt.
“Arms next,”
Miguel murmured, voice rough at the edges.
Jared obeyed without protest, letting Miguel work his biceps, forearms, and wrists. When his fingers brushed the sensitive skin at Jared’s inner elbow, a small tremor passed through the cheetah’s body.
“Cold?”
Miguel asked, though the room was warm.
“No,”
Jared muttered, his voice husky in the quiet room. “Definitely not cold. But my thighs are the real problem,”
Miguel paused, fingers stilling. “You asking me to massage your thighs, mi solecito ?”
A flush crawled up Jared’s neck. “I mean…if you want, just, they’re really sore from the ride—”
Miguel chuckled, amused by the fumbling words. “Relax. I’m teasing.”
“Hard to relax with a demon cat plotting my murder.”
“Forget about Psycho. Focus on this.”
Miguel’s thumbs pressed deeper into a cluster of knots.
“Focusing,”
Jared murmured.
Miguel slid his hands lower, working along sleek muscle. “Turn sideways. Need better access to your lower back.”
Jared turned until his profile faced Miguel. Beneath his hands, the tension started to melt away.
Drawn by an impulse he couldn’t resist, Miguel leaned forward, brushing his lips over the nape of Jared’s neck. His hands continued their work, sliding around to the cheetah’s sides, feeling ribs expand with each breath.
Jared went completely still, muscles tensing. For one gut-wrenching moment, Miguel thought he’d misread everything.
Then a catch of breath, the slightest arch, before Jared’s back melted against his chest. The sudden contact sent heat rushing through his veins.
“This okay?”
He breathed in the scent of citrus.
Jared tilted his head slightly, exposing more of his neck. “More than okay,”
he whispered.
Miguel’s lips grazed the skin just below the man’s ear.
“What was that for?”
Jared purred the question, a soft, vibrating noise that made Miguel’s wolf softly growl.
He continued to massage sinewy muscles. “Because I wanted to.”
Nothing complicated about it. He’d been thinking about the softness of Jared’s skin since their kiss behind the tavern. The memory was sweet and persistent, cutting through even the horrors of that warehouse.
“Feeling better?”
he asked against Jared’s neck.
The cheetah nodded, eyes half-closed. “Much.”
“Falling asleep on me, hermoso ?”
Jared twisted slightly, looking over his shoulder. Those incredible eyes held a question Miguel couldn’t quite interpret.
Their lips met awkwardly at first, not quite lining up until Miguel shifted a bit, his hand gently holding Jared’s jaw. The kiss deepened, mouths open and eager, the guy’s lips tasting like blueberry syrup with a hint of orange juice.
He pulled Jared flush to his body, the solid weight of his back now pressed against Miguel’s chest, his lips trailing over the skin where neck met shoulder.
Miguel’s hands drifted lower, gliding over lean muscle trapped beneath denim. His palms curved around the man’s thighs, finally addressing the complaint that had started this.
“Still hurt?”
Miguel asked.
A breathless laugh escaped Jared. “Less and less by the second.”
Between kisses, Miguel worked his thumbs into the dense muscle, massaging away the stiffness. Each press drew tiny sounds from Jared, not quite moans, but something equally sensual. His fingertips traced the inseam of Jared’s jeans, feeling heat through the fabric.
“Your hands should be illegal,”
Jared whispered, eyelids drifting closed.
Miguel laughed against the guy’s jaw. “Just my hands?”
“I should’ve known you’d have magic hands from the way you handle that bike.”
Jared smirked.
A low growl rumbled in Miguel’s throat, his fingers digging deeper into the muscle of Jared’s thighs. “Keep talking like that, kitty, and we’ll find out just how magical my hands really are.”
Jared’s pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the green. “That a threat or a promise?”
“With you, always a promise.”
He filled with primal male satisfaction as their tongues tasted and explored. Miguel kept kneading Jared’s thighs, working the length of muscle until he felt them grow buttery soft.
“Someone’s feeling better.”
Miguel nipped Jared’s lower lip, while tracing the curve of his jaw. Those green eyes flecked with gold held him completely captive.
“You’re staring.”
Jared played with the hem of Miguel’s shirt.
“Hard not to, gorgeous.”
The male arched into the touch, arms wrapping around Miguel to pull him even closer. The kiss turned messy, wild, teeth catching on lips, a growl erupting, a purr slipping free.
Miguel slid his hands under Jared’s shirt, mapping ribs and the flat plane of his stomach, skin like silk under his calloused fingers.
From somewhere in the house came an indignant meow followed by the sound of something being knocked over with a crash. Neither man looked up.
Miguel tugged at the hem of Jared’s shirt. “Get this off.”
Jared sat up enough to pull the fabric over his head. Moonlight from the window painted silver across his chest, highlighting the lean muscle and smooth skin. A constellation of freckles dusted his shoulders, trailing down his chest like stars. Miguel’s breath caught at the sight.
“Your turn.”
His fingers were already grabbing at Miguel’s shirt.
“Need me that badly, carino ?”
He kissed Jared neck, the man’s pulse fluttering against his mouth.
“Yes.”
Once the barrier of clothes disappeared, their skin met in a rush of heat. Miguel traced the contours of Jared’s collarbones, then lower, following the trail of goosebumps that appeared in his wake.
Each touch felt significant, like learning a language with his fingertips.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,”
Miguel murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of Jared’s throat.
A soft laugh escaped. “Says the guy built like every fantasy I’ve ever had.”
He didn’t even flinch at the scars covering Miguel’s body. No hint of disgust in his eyes, no attempt to suppress a cringe.
Jared wasn’t trying to hide any kind of reaction. It was as if Miguel’s scars weren’t even there. His kitten didn’t care. Didn’t judge. He just saw Miguel for the person he truly was instead of reducing him to the marks left by the accident.
Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier, more demanding. Jared twisted fully toward him, one hand curling around Miguel’s neck, pulling him closer. The angle was awkward, bodies half-turned on the couch until Miguel guided them down, easing Jared onto his back as their legs tangled together.
Miguel growled softly, one hand braced beside Jared’s head, the other gliding over bare skin. Their bodies aligned, chest to chest, hip to hip. The couch creaked beneath them, too narrow for two grown men, forcing them to fit together like puzzle pieces.
Something fierce and possessive surged through him—a wildness that had nothing to do with the physical act and everything to do with the man beneath him. His wolf paced faster, more agitated. Not with anger or aggression, but with recognition.
Mine.
The thought came unbidden, primal and absolute. His wolf howled inside him. The beast had chosen.
Miguel’s mouth trailed down his mate’s throat. Every point of contact between them burned like a brand—Jared’s fingers twisted in his hair, their legs tangled together. The need to taste more of him, to map the landscape of his body with lips and tongue, drove Miguel lower.
His teeth grazed Jared’s collarbone, drawing a hiss from above. Hands tightened in his hair, not guiding, just holding on while Miguel explored the terrain of his chest. The flat planes, the subtle ridges of muscle. All of it begged for attention.
“What are you—”
His mate’s words cut off as Miguel’s tongue circled his nipple.
“Thought that was obvious,”
Miguel murmured, tongue tracing lower. “Better than I imagined.”
Jared’s stomach muscles contracted under his mouth. “You’ve been imagining this?”
“Every night.”
A confession breathed hot against skin. “Since the first night we met.”
His hands found Jared’s hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there while he dragged his open mouth down the center line of his torso. Each kiss soft, each lick an exploration of new territory.
Miguel pressed his mouth to Jared’s stomach. The muscles contracted beneath his lips , a reflexive response to the heat of his tongue.
When he reached the waistband of his mate’s jeans, he paused, looking up through his lashes. Jared’s face was flushed, eyes wide and dark, lips parted. The sight struck something heavy in Miguel’s soul. “Unless you want me to stop?”
A flush spread across his chest. “God, no.”
S atisfaction curled through Miguel as he popped the button open, sliding the zipper down tooth by tooth. The sound filled the quiet room, punctuated only by their breathing and the distant rustling of Psycho wreaking havoc somewhere in the house.
“Lift,”
Miguel commanded softly. He tugged the fabric over narrow hips, down lean thighs, raising goosebumps across newly exposed skin. The jeans caught briefly at his ankles before Miguel removed them completely, tossing them to the floor.
His gaze traveled over Jared’s body—athletic and lithe, all compact muscle beneath smooth skin.
“Fuck,”
he murmured, taking in the sight before him—Jared stretched out on his couch, wearing nothing but boxer briefs.
“You planning on just looking?”
Jared’s voice held a hint of nervous tension beneath the teasing.
Miguel’s laugh was low, almost predatory. “Appreciating the view.”
His hands skimmed up his mate’s calves. “Patience, elegido .”
Beneath his palms, Jared’s thighs trembled slightly. Not from fear. Miguel could smell the heady scent of arousal, but from restraint. From wanting. Every touch seemed to draw a twitch, a soft exhale, fingers flexing.
The cotton of his boxers did nothing to hide his arousal, the fabric stretched taut.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his mate’s underwear, dragging the fabric down in one smooth motion. Jared’s cock sprang free, flushed and hard against his stomach. Miguel wrapped his fingers around the base, his mouth watering to taste.
“Beautiful,”
he murmured. He lowered his head to press his lips to the inside of Jared’s thigh. The skin there was softer, more sensitive. Each kiss drew a quiet gasp from above.
“These still sore?”
Miguel asked, thumbs pressing into the muscle of his mate’s thighs.
“Can’t remember,”
Jared breathed. “Something about your hands makes it hard to think.”
A smile curved Miguel’s lips. “Let’s see if I can make you forget completely.”
He worked his way inward, tasting salt and heat, feeling muscles quiver beneath his touch. When his mouth finally reached Jared’s cock, Miguel paused, breath ghosting over sensitive flesh. The anticipation built between them, tightening like a spring.
Then he took him in, one fluid motion that had his mate gasping, fingers clutching at the couch cushions. The weight of him felt perfect on Miguel’s tongue, hot, heavy, and incredible. He hollowed his cheeks, drawing him deeper, savoring the strangled sound that escaped Jared’s throat.
Glancing up, Miguel found his mate watching him, lips parted, eyes dark with need. The sight sent heat coursing through him, pooling low in his gut. He held that gaze as he pulled back slowly, tongue dragging along the underside.
“Fuck, your mouth.”
A low purr resonated in his mate’s chest.
Miguel took him deeper, until the head nudged the back of his throat. Lips stretched around his width, tongue pressed against the underside. A raw sound escaped Jared. Not quite a whimper, not quite a moan.
Lifting his hands, Miguel spread Jared’s thighs wider, pushing them back slightly to expose more of him. Every subtle twitch of Jared’s hips told him exactly what felt good.
“Holy shit,”
Jared gasped, one hand sliding into Miguel’s hair. “Your mouth should come with a warning label.”
His own arousal strained heavily against his jeans, demanding attention he refused to give. Not yet. This moment belonged to Jared.
“Miguel—”
His mate’s voice caught as Miguel took him deeper, nose brushing against the soft skin of his pelvis. His tongue traced the underside, following the prominent vein while his fingers caressed Jared’s balls, rolling them gently.
His mate’s hips bucked upward. Miguel pinned them down with one forearm, control and restraint in every movement as he pulled back, lips tight around the head before sinking down again.
“Sorry,”
Jared mumbled, fingers threading through Miguel’s hair, not guiding, just holding on.
Miguel released him with a wet pop. “Don’t apologize.”
His voice came out rough. “I like knowing what I’m doing to you.”
Without waiting for a response, he dipped lower, dragging his tongue across the delicate skin of his mate’s sac. Each lick drew another beautiful sound from above, a half-choked gasps that sent blood rushing to Miguel’s already painfully hard cock.
“Miguel.”
Jared’s voice cracked. “I can’t—”
“You can,”
he assured him, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind his balls before taking one into his mouth, rolling it gently with his tongue. His fingers caressed the insides of Jared’s thighs, feeling the quivering tension there.
“Turn over,”
Miguel commanded softly, patting Jared’s hip.
Jared blinked, as if momentarily confused. “Huh?”
Hesitation flashed across Jared’s face, just for a heartbeat, then disappeared beneath desire. He rolled, exposing the perfect curve of his ass to Miguel’s hungry gaze.
“Like this?”
Uncertainty colored his words.
Miguel guided his mate to his knees on the couch, chest pressed against the armrest. Moonlight carved shadows across the planes of Jared’s back, highlighting the dip of his spine, the two dimples just above his ass. Miguel traced them with his thumbs, mesmerized. His mouth followed, pressing kisses down the ladder of vertebrae until he reached the swell of his mate’s ass.
“Just like that, carino .”
He followed the cleft with his mouth, dragging his tongue between his cheeks.
Jared glanced back over his shoulder, uncertainty mixed with desire. “I’ve never—”
“Trust me,”
Miguel murmured against his skin, spreading him open, his breath warm against sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue made Jared jolt, a surprised sound escaping his throat.
His mate’s body tensed, then melted beneath his touch. Every flick of Miguel’s tongue drew new sounds, soft gasps, half-formed curses, his name spoken like a prayer. Miguel lost himself in the rhythm, alternating between gentle pressure and broad strokes, feeling Jared’s thighs quiver beneath his hands.
Miguel spread his mate wider, exposing him completely before circling his tongue around the tight pucker, teasing, exploring, before pushing against the resistance. The taste was musky, intimate. Pure Jared.
From above came broken sounds, half-formed words swallowed by moans. Miguel gripped his ass, fingers digging into the muscle as he worked his tongue deeper, feeling the tight ring of muscle relax by degrees.
“Miguel. Oh god,”
Jared’s voice cracked, his body trembling beneath Miguel.
His mate’s cock hung heavy between his legs, precum dotting the slit. Miguel wrapped his hand around it, stroking in time with the movements of his tongue as he returned to Jared’s entrance. The dual sensations had Jared rocking back against his face, seeking more.
Curling his tongue, Miguel pressed inside. The muscle gave way, tight heat gripping his tongue as he worked it deeper. His hands kneaded the flesh of Jared’s ass, spreading him wider.
“Never felt…”
Jared panted, words fragmenting. “So fucking good.”
Miguel doubled his efforts, tongue delving deeper while his hand moved faster, squeezing just beneath the head with each upstroke. The dual sensations proved too much.
“Miguel!”
The word burst from Jared’s lips, muffled against the couch cushion. Miguel pulled back, flipped his mate over, engulfing his cock just as hot ribbons of cum shot down his throat. Miguel swallowed greedily, licking the prick clean.