Chapter 22 Catfish
CATFISH
Imean those words to my bones. Never had someone ride me like that, even though I’ve wanted them to. Most feel like they’re gonna squash me or suffocate me, but that’s the whole fucking point.
And when Wren just let go and did as I asked, that heady feeling, the rush of wanting to get them off before I passed out kicked in. Not sure what kink you call that, but it was the closest I’ve come to living it out. The world started to get hazy toward the end.
When tonight is over, I’m gonna tell Wren about it so they can take their sweet time over me, and I can reach the point where everything fades to black.
I reach for the condom, but my hand shakes as I do. Some heady combination of adrenaline and nerves floods through me.
“River,” Wren says as I rip open the packet and put it on. “Are you okay?” Their gaze meets mine.
“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re everything I wanted.”
And with that, I line my body up against theirs. I’m sure they can feel me tremble as I do. And I hover over them, not just for a breath, but for a moment of clarity.
Because if I move, if I push in even an inch, I’m sealing the words I just said.
That, somehow, Wren has crept into my veins and become more than desire.
It’s more than getting off, or claiming, or any of the MC bullshit we throw around to mask the real shit going on underneath.
This is Wren.
And I want them.
They look up at me, flushed and open, already wrecked by my mouth. The axis of the world tilts beneath me.
“You ready?” I ask. The head of my dick rubs up against their warmth and wetness. And I’m so hard, I don’t even need to use my hand to guide it in.
Instead, I tuck a curl of hair behind Wren’s ear.
They nod. “Make me feel like yours.”
I try not to overthink the words feel like, but I wish they’d simply said make me yours.
Or even better, simply I’m yours.
My eyes fixed firmly on theirs, I press in slow. I’m so close from what we just did, but I want to savor the heat of them, the tight wet pull as I breach them, without coming.
Even so, the move steals the air from my lungs, and Wren gasps beneath me, arms tightening around my shoulders.
I bottom out in one slow thrust, buried to the hilt, and I hold myself there, even as my arms shake. “You feel…holy shit, Wren. You feel perfect.”
Wren kisses me, then, hard and sweet, like they’re trying to anchor us both tightly in this moment. And I don’t want to move and ruin the perfection of it.
A moment that feels more like a homecoming.
Like the place I’m meant to be is actually with Wren, not a physical location.
But the intensity becomes too much, and so I move. Slowly, at first, with long strokes. Wren’s hips roll against mine, moving with the same rhythm. Showing me with every moan, gasp, and desperate grip of my skin how badly they want this.
Like me.
“You take me so well,” I whisper into their neck. “So fucking well.”
Their hand slips into my hair. “It’s like we were made for each other.”
I groan and bury my face farther into their shoulder, thrusting harder as I do.
My cock aches, a steady drumbeat of a pulse, as I try to hold on to this feeling.
“You were made for me,” I say, and I desperately hope they understand what I mean. That who they are is the person I was meant to be with.
Wren’s nails drag down my back. Not to hurt, but to hold, deeply.
I’m not going to be the same after this. I can’t be. Wren has gotten under my skin, past all my armor, right into the soft beating center of me.
To the man who wants someone to love and protect.
This is more than sex.
This is about the foundation of a home.
My rhythm stutters as the edge comes closer. Wren’s body squeezes around me, tight and wanting. And I want to give them what they need before I give in to the immense pleasure.
“I want you to come again, Wren.” My breath is ragged as I inhale. “I want to feel you lose it with me.”
Wren’s hands snake around my ass, holding me against them as they grind against me. I’m barely thrusting, but Wren’s cheeks flush. “Oh, God. Right there. Hold still.”
I do as Wren asks so they can use my cock however they need to to get off. Get us into whatever position they need. They fire their hips upwards.
There’s desperation in Wren’s movements, a frustrated groan escaping their lips when they don’t immediately come.
Shocks are hammering down my spine. I’m not going to be able to last much longer. “Come on, sweetheart, fuck me like you mean it.”
They lose all sense of self-control. Wetness pools between us, sweat gathers between our chests. And then, Wren’s eyes widen, and I fuck them through it. I watch them fall apart and come with a shout.
“River.” One word could be a prayer or a plea.
I pin their hips to the bed, and it takes only a few hard thrusts before I follow them over.
The world spins, and I’m surrounded by the scent and touch of Wren. Every part of me says they’re mine.
Wave after wave of dizzying sensation pounds through me as I spill into them.
At its peak, it feels like I come twice, which isn’t true. But it feels that good.
And when I’m spent, we lie tangled and slick, panting, our fingers linked.
Wren looks at me, their eyes bright, their cheeks pink. “That wasn’t just sex,” they say. It’s a statement, not a question.
“No,” I reply, my voice rough. “It was the start of everything.”
“Are you sure? Because this will hurt if it turns out you don’t mean it.”
I roll to face them. “What makes you uncertain?”
“This.” They gesture to their body. “Do you really want to deal with all this? Would you take care of me after top surgery if I have it? What if I go on testosterone and my voice deepens and my clit grows?”
I take a deep breath and smile. “Of course, I’ll roll with all that. Because none of it changes who you’re fast becoming to me.”
They smile and then press their face into the pillow. For a heartbeat, I consider asking them to stay. Telling them my fear. That I don’t want them to leave. But I don’t want to diminish what they just shared with me.
“Come here,” I say, pulling them to me.
We don’t talk anymore, for a while. There’s no need. A blanket of contentment settles over us both, and the air around us calms.
We lie in a heap for a few minutes more, until I feel my eyelids get heavy. “Stay there,” I say as I roll off the bed before kissing their forehead.
It takes a few moments to deal with the condom, wash my face, and clean up my cock. Then, I take the washcloth to the bed and move to clean Wren up.
“I can do that,” they say, reaching for it.
“Technically, it’s my fault you need cleaning up.”
“It’s okay, it’s just…”
I pause. “Just what?”
Wren flops back on the bed. “I was about to tell you not to because it felt weird having someone else down there, but after what we just did, I guess it’s silly.”
Gently, I wipe around their lips, taking in how pink and engorged they are. The space between their legs is a fucking work of art.
When I get back to the bedroom, Wren has already dipped underneath the sheets, and when I join them, I pull them against my chest.
The world is caught in a hush. I weave my fingers through their hair; Wren traces lazy circles over my chest.
“Are you still awake?” Wren asks.
“Trying not to fall asleep.”
“Yeah?”
“Never thought I’d say shit like this, but I just want to enjoy having you in my arms.”
“See,” Wren says, as if it’s the answer to everything. “I knew you were a romantic.”
There’s silence again, for a minute, until the tracing of circles on my chest stops. “Can I ask you something that’s probably slightly cringeworthy?”
I chuckle at that. “What on earth are you thinking?”
They snort softly, head still resting on my shoulder. “When did you know you wanted to be with me? Like this.”
I think about it and decide to just tell Wren the truth. “It was a journey. You arrived in the clubhouse and sat in the corner, flanked by Saint and Spark, and then, you just looked up at me, and I saw your eyes.”
“You knew from seeing my eyes?”
I chuckle again. “Not exactly. But you intrigued me. Then, you were all wise-cracking and smart-mouthed when we were trying to find the paper trail for Lucy.”
“You really are a sucker for punishment.”
I close my eyes. “Not really. I thought you had fire. Not a pushover.”
The tracing of circles on my chest resumes.
“I tend to do that when I’m scared. Get a little mouthy.
If you come out swinging, people are less likely to assume you’re a pushover.
And look at me. No matter how much I wish I was closer to six feet tall and a bit more built, people always look at me and assume I can be pushed around. It’s happened my entire life.”
I tighten my arms around them, holding them close. “I’m sorry that’s been your experience. But you know when I realized?”
“No, that’s why I’m asking.”
“Smart mouth. It was while you were in my bed in the clubhouse and I was outside in the hallway with Atom. I was worried about you, and I’d just argued with Wraith.
He threatened to take me off looking after you if I couldn’t keep my head on straight.
And I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else looking out for you but me. ”
“I like that. Do you want to know when I started to have feelings for you?”
I shuffle onto my side so I can face them. The moonlight casts a glow over their face. “Tell me.”
“It was in the bakery apartment, when you realized all the noise and people and bright lights and everything else was too much. You noticed. You let me be complicated without making me feel like a problem. Plus, you make a mean chicken and dumplings.”
I kiss Wren’s forehead, and then they look up at me through long lashes. “So, we’re really doing this?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’re really doing this.”
And just like that, the final wall between us falls.
There are no grand speeches. Just the kind of contented quiet that happens when you finally stop running.