Chapter 17 - Mac #2
Something deep in him answered before thought could catch up, the wolf rising hard and certain at the sound of it.
Melvin held his gaze. “Always have been.”
The truth of it, spoken so plainly, shattered the last of Mac’s control. He moved up Melvin’s body in a fluid surge, covering him completely. Skin to skin, heat to heat. The feel of Melvin beneath him, solid and strong but yielding to him, felt like everything.
He settled between Melvin’s thighs, the hard length of his cock pressing against Melvin’s, a slick, hot slide that made them both gasp.
Mac buried his face in the curve of Melvin’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent was everywhere now, in his lungs, on his tongue, under his skin. It quieted the wolf’s restless pacing and replaced it with a single thought he wasn’t ready to trust: Melvin might be his Mate.
He rocked his hips, a slow, grinding rhythm that built friction where they were joined.
The wetness between them, his pre-come, Melvin’s, eased the slide.
The sound was obscene, wet and intimate in the quiet room.
Melvin’s legs came up, bracketing Mac’s hips, his heels digging into the backs of Mac’s thighs, pulling him closer, deeper into the cradle of his body.
“Look at me,” Mac rasped.
Melvin’s eyes opened. They were hazy with pleasure, but clear with intent. He reached up, his hand curling around the back of Mac’s neck, holding his gaze. In that moment the connection felt absolute. In that look, Mac saw the same future he’d imagined by the river. A life built. Together.
Mac shifted, his hand sliding down between their sweat-slick bodies.
He found Melvin’s entrance, already soft and yielding.
He was hot, impossibly so, but tight. Mac pressed a single finger against him, just the tip, applying a steady, inexorable pressure.
Melvin’s breath hitched, his body opening, accepting.
The stretch was sharp, a burning fullness that made Melvin throw his head back with a ragged moan.
Mac stilled, his finger buried to the knuckle, feeling the frantic, fluttering clench around him.
It was too much, too fast. He was no slouch, and the wolf in him, the alpha bloodline, meant he was built to claim. To fill. Melvin would need more.
He withdrew slowly, the loss of that heat a small agony. “Easy,” Mac murmured against his throat, the word more growl than speech. “We’ll go easy.”
He reached for the bottle on the nightstand, the cap coming off with a soft click. He poured slick onto his fingers, the sound obscenely loud. He warmed it between his palms, his eyes never leaving Melvin’s face.
“Look at me.”
Melvin did. His eyes were dark, pupils swallowing the brown, his lips parted on panting breaths. There was trust there, and a wild kind of hunger. Mac coated his fingers thoroughly, the cool gel turning warm against his skin.
He returned his hand between Melvin’s thighs, his touch deliberate.
One finger again, slick and slow, pressing in.
Melvin gasped, his body arching, but this time the tension was different.
It was a welcome, not a resistance. Mac worked him open with a patient, circling rhythm, feeling the tight ring of muscle gradually soften, give way, become pliant.
He crooked his finger, searching, and Melvin jolted, a broken cry tearing from his lips.
“There?” Mac asked, his voice rough.
Melvin could only nod, his hips pushing down against Mac’s hand.
Mac pressed the spot again, a firm, relentless pressure, and watched pleasure unravel him.
Melvin’s cock lay thick and leaking against his stomach, a bead of moisture welling at the tip.
The scent of him, of amber and pure male arousal, flooded the room, flooded Mac’s senses.
Inside, his wolf paced, eager, but the man held firm.
He added a second finger. The stretch was profound. Melvin cried out, his nails digging into Mac’s biceps, his head thrashing on the pillow. “Fuck, Mac…”
“I know,” Mac soothed, stilling, letting him adjust. He felt the incredible heat, the tight clutch of Melvin’s body around his fingers.
He scissored them gently, stretching him wider.
The slide was wet, slick with lube and Melvin’s own yielding.
Mac bent, capturing Melvin’s mouth in a deep, consuming kiss, swallowing his moans.
He worked him open until the resistance faded, until Melvin was pushing back against his hand, his body moving in a desperate, rocking rhythm.
Only then did Mac add a third. The stretch was overwhelming.
Melvin went rigid, a strangled sound caught in his throat, his eyes flying open.
Mac held him there, full to the knuckles, not moving.
“Breathe,” he commanded, his own breath coming in harsh pants.
“Just breathe through it, baby. Take it for me.”
Melvin shuddered, his chest heaving. He forced a long, shaky inhale, then another.
The terrible tension in his shoulders began to seep away.
His body, impossibly, opened further, accepting the brutal fullness.
Mac began to move his fingers in a slow, fucking motion, in and out, the wet sound filthy and perfect.
He could feel the ridge of his own cock, thick and heavy against his stomach, the base of it already beginning to swell with the promise of the knot. Not yet. But soon.
“You feel that?” Mac growled against his lips. “You feel how you take me?”
“Yes,” Melvin gasped, his voice wrecked. “Gods, yes.”
Mac scissored his fingers wide, stretching him to the brink, watching Melvin’s face contort in exquisite sensation. He was open now, ready, his body glistening and hot and desperate. Mac withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving Melvin empty and clenching around nothing, a low whimper escaping him.
Mac positioned himself, his hands gripping Melvin’s hips. The broad, swollen head of his cock pressed against that slick, stretched entrance. The pressure was immense, a white-hot point of focus that made the world narrow to this single point of contact.
He locked his gaze with Melvin’s. “Mine,” Mac said, the word leaving no room for argument.
Melvin’s eyes were clear, certain. “Yours.”
Mac pushed forward.
The first inch was a devastating, perfect stretch.
Melvin’s mouth opened on a silent cry, his body arching, accepting.
Mac held there, trembling, buried in impossible heat.
He felt every ripple, every clench, the tight, hot vise of Melvin’s body sheathing him.
It was more than physical. It was a claiming of soul-deep territory.
He pushed deeper, another slow, inexorable inch. The burn was there, he could see it on Melvin’s face, but beneath it was a dazed, overwhelming pleasure. Melvin’s legs came up, locking around Mac’s waist, his heels urging him forward. “More,” he breathed. “Please, Mac. All of it.”
Mac obeyed. He sank the rest of the way in one long, smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Their bodies met, pelvis to pelvis, no space left between them.
He was fully seated, engulfed in a heat so profound it stole his breath.
Melvin was full of him, stretched around him, his body trembling with the shock of it.
Mac collapsed over him, his forehead dropping to Melvin’s shoulder.
He was shaking. The feeling was almost more than he could hold, too good, too right.
The wolf in him howled in triumph. Mate.
Not yet claimed but home. He could feel the thick base of his cock pressed tight against Melvin’s entrance, the first slow swell of the knot beginning to rise.
“Move,” Melvin begged, his voice a raw scrape. “Please, move.”
Mac moved.
It was a slow, deliberate withdrawal, then a deep, rolling thrust back in.
The sensation was a lightning strike up his spine.
Melvin’s body clenched around him, a hot, perfect vise, and a broken moan was torn from both their throats.
Mac set a rhythm, deep and relentless, each stroke a claiming.
He braced himself on his forearms, caging Melvin beneath him, their faces inches apart.
He could see every flicker of feeling, the shock, the pleasure, the dazed surrender.
“Look at me,” Mac growled, the command vibrating through his chest into Melvin’s. “You look at me while I take you.”
Melvin’s eyes, wide and dark, locked onto his.
They were glazed, unfocused for a second, then they sharpened, holding Mac’s gaze with a fierce, answering intensity.
His breath hitched with every deep drive.
His hands came up, framing Mac’s face, thumbs brushing the rough stubble on his jaw.
The tenderness of the gesture, amid the raw, physical taking, cracked something open in Mac’s chest.
He shifted his angle, driving deeper, and Melvin cried out, his head pressing back into the pillow. “There,” he gasped. “Right there, Mac, please, ”
Mac hammered that spot, each thrust precise and devastating.
The wet, slick sound of their joining filled the room, a beautiful counterpoint to their ragged breathing.
Sweat beaded on Mac’s back, dripped from his temple onto Melvin’s collarbone.
The heat between them was a living thing, a furnace stoked by every movement.
He could feel his own control fraying. The wolf paced just beneath his skin, intoxicated by the scent of amber and sex and “Mate”.
The base of his cock was thickening, the promise of the knot a persistent, swelling pressure.
He wouldn’t give it, not yet. But the other claim, the primal, permanent one…
the need for it was a drumbeat in his blood, louder than the slap of skin, louder than his own heartbeat.