Chapter Three #3
He was all flawlessly tanned skin and gym-honed lines of muscle. Cameron ran his fingertips across Franklin’s back. The only thing he’d torn was the shirt; the flesh beneath it was unmarked, unharmed.
Franklin moved then, putting his palms down on the bed to either side of him. He pushed slightly, as if trying to press himself up from the mattress and into Cameron’s caress.
Cameron studied him carefully. It had been so long since he’d been with a man who wasn’t paying him. He’d almost forgotten how to act when he was with a man he felt something other than complete hatred for. But, against all logic, in that moment, he didn’t hate Franklin.
A memory bubbled up, from a time back before his world had gone to hell, from a time where he only knew the way lions acted and had no understanding of what humans could be like outside of a den. “If you want me to stop, you have to say the word ‘sword’. Do you understand?”
Franklin nodded. “Yes. I understand.”
Cameron traced his fingers further down Franklin’s spine until they reached his belt.
Forcing his claws to remain in the shape of harmless human nails, he reached beneath Franklin and undid the buckle.
He didn’t let Franklin rise more than an inch, but even at the awkward angle, he was far from clumsy.
Quickly drawing down Franklin’s fly, Cameron soon had his trousers tugged down past his buttocks.
He scrambled to push the material past where he knelt over him, and Franklin didn’t even try to stop him.
When Cameron retreated far enough to snatch the lube from the bedside table, Franklin did move, but only to cautiously raise himself up onto his hands and knees once more.
There was just a touch of hesitance to his movement, a hint of vulnerability, as if he wasn’t used to following another guy’s lead, but also as if he wasn’t used to bottoming either.
Somehow, Cameron found himself reaching out and stroking his hand down Franklin’s spine once more, trying to reassure him.
That kind of gentleness didn’t come easily to him anymore. His claws left pale red lines in their wake as they crept out and slid down Franklin’s back. They weren’t deep marks—hell, they weren’t even real scratches—but they still raised a wave of bitterness in Cameron.
Anger at his own lack of self-control flooded him, and with it, came a cold fury at the whole world. Why the hell should he be careful with him, when Franklin was the exact same kind of man as the guys who’d treated him like dirt every time they reached for their wallet?
Slicking his fingers with lube, he slid them between Franklin’s buttocks.
Franklin gasped as Cameron thrust the first digit inside him, and Cameron stilled the moment he felt him tense.
Instincts warred within him then, leaving him trapped between a desire to be tender and an almost overwhelming need to prove that, this time, he was the one who could do whatever the hell he wanted with his lover.
Frowning, Cameron slid his finger deeper into Franklin’s hole, spreading the lube as he moved the digit back and forth before quickly adding another.
Franklin was soon rocking slightly, pushing himself back against Cameron’s fingers as he quickly adjusted to the intrusion of two, then three fingers.
Snatching his hand away, Cameron scrabbled at his fly as he knelt on the bed behind Franklin. Slicking his dick with extra lube, he pressed the tip of his cock against Franklin’s hole and thrust into him, burying his dick deep inside Franklin’s arse in one perfect movement.
Franklin jerked. Cameron frowned down at the back of his head as he instinctively stilled. It was impossible to tell if Franklin was trying to pull away from him or push himself back even more firmly onto his cock.
Franklin looked over his shoulder. Their eyes met.
“Just…give me a moment?” he asked, his voice very controlled and his body shaking with the effort of controlling it.
Cameron hesitated.
Franklin bowed his head down toward the mattress as he took another deep breath. “It’s been a while since I…”
Cameron didn’t need him to finish the sentence.
It had been a long time since he’d let a man top him.
Pleasure rushed through Cameron at the knowledge, but with it, came a wave of purely irrational jealousy. He didn’t care about how long ago it might have been that another man had Franklin in that same position.
No other man should ever have laid a hand, much less any other part of their body, on him. Cameron’s instincts screamed at him to move, to thrust deeper inside Franklin, to mark his territory. It took every ounce of self-control he had to stay still and give Franklin the time he’d asked for.
Humans obviously couldn’t relax and accept another man inside them as easily as a lion could—that wasn’t their fault. Or, maybe, Franklin just hadn’t had as much practice as Cameron had had at getting screwed by complete bastards…
Cameron pushed away the thought as hard as he could and redoubled his efforts to focus on the here and now so he didn’t miss a single detail.
Franklin dropped his head forward until his forehead almost rested on the blanket beneath him. Cameron reached out and put his hand on Franklin’s shoulder, half steadying him and reassuring him, and half reassuring himself that Franklin was there and wasn’t going to try to leave.
Franklin’s body shuddered as he gasped for breath, but he didn’t even try to escape. Silent seconds passed ,and Franklin shuffled his knees against the bedspread. Cameron felt Franklin’s muscles tense and relax around his dick as Franklin’s body struggled to accept him.
And Cameron fought even harder to stay still as his hips begged him for permission to rock back and thrust forward. His grip on Franklin’s shoulder tightened, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, all he could do was try to keep his claws to himself.
Finally, just when Cameron was sure he’d lose his mind if he tried to remain frozen in place for just one second longer, he felt something change.
Franklin seemed to relax. His scent altered.
Pleasure overtook any discomfort he’d felt.
Franklin moved, and this time, there was no doubting that he was pushing back against Cameron with blatant enthusiasm.
Franklin didn’t say anything that might reveal how much Franklin wanted Cameron to move. He didn’t say any words at all. But a whimper escaped from the back of Franklin’s throat, and his desperation was obvious.
Cameron swayed away and ploughed back into Franklin’s arse in one seamless movement.
Franklin’s grip on the blanket beneath him turned white-knuckled.
Cameron forced himself to still again as he scowled down at Franklin’s profile, frantically trying to read his body language and work out how to please him.
It wasn’t supposed to be that way. This wasn’t the plan. He wasn’t supposed to care. He was supposed to hate Franklin and everything the man stood for. Every logical thought in Cameron’s head told him that was the way things should be, how they always were between lions and humans outside of a den.
If a human got hurt, then it was the guy’s own fault and…
And, as Cameron stared down at the back of Franklin’s head, he slowly lost any desire to punish him, for what he’d done or for what guys like him had done so many times over the last three years.
In that moment, what Cameron wanted, more than anything, was for Franklin to love—no!
Cameron closed his eyes very tightly. He wanted Franklin to love what they did together. He wanted Franklin to love the way their bodies moved against each other. Yes, Cameron told himself, very firmly, that was what he wanted Franklin to love.
Swallowing down any stupid and all-too-revealing words before they had a chance to escape from his lips, Cameron pulled back and thrust forward more carefully.
Leaning forward and echoing the shape of Franklin’s body, he let a little of his weight rest against Franklin’s back as he brought them closer together.
Letting his chest move against Franklin’s skin with every motion, he thrust into him again, each thrust slow, deep and far more heartfelt than it should ever be for a back-alley rent boy.
Franklin murmured his pleasure as he arched against Cameron, then gasped as Cameron found the perfect angle and hit it again and again, with complete control and precision. Each sign of Franklin’s pleasure rushed through Cameron’s veins, mingling with his own as it headed straight for his cock.
For once, Cameron didn’t add any of his own moans of enjoyment to the mix. He wasn’t putting on a show. There wasn’t anyone he was trying to impress here. Enthusiasm wouldn’t earn him a bonus.
Holding Franklin tighter, Cameron thrust deeper still.
Gradually, as he felt the frustration build toward a tipping point inside him, he reached around and wrapped his hand around Franklin’s cock. Despite their faltering start, Franklin was still gloriously hard.
Pre-cum leaked onto Cameron’s palm, slicking his grip as he stroked. Even while he tried to be careful, it was impossible to make his actions a polite request that the guy hurry the hell up and come.
His touch was pure demand, and Cameron purred his pleasure as Franklin obeyed his order and bucked beneath him as he came. The soft little purr turned into a roar as Cameron tumbled into his own climax after him.
For just a few moments, all the anger and confusion Cameron had ever felt ceased to exist. Bliss raced through his veins, and there was just him and Franklin, with no past or future to worry about, with no payment to be taken.
There was no money. There were no other men. Cameron allowed all his familiar points of reference to slip away and just let the moment pick him up and take him somewhere peaceful and safe.
He stayed there for as long as he could, clinging to the sensations, until he really couldn’t put off the return to reality for another second. Finally, he blinked open his eyes.
Franklin was still half pinned beneath Cameron’s body, panting gently as he tried to catch his breath.
With his brain still not working in quite the way he was used to, Cameron stroked his fingers through Franklin’s hair and down over his neck to caress his back.
His tongue flickered out and lapped at Franklin’s bare shoulder.
Finally, one brain cell hit into another and told him to stop being such a bloody idiot—to get the hell out of there.
Springing up from the bed, Cameron stumbled back several paces. His jeans were bunched around his thighs. He pulled them up and fastened his zip as he rushed out of the room.
As he took one last glance back, he saw Franklin blink over his shoulder at him. He glimpsed the doubt and the hurt in the guy’s eyes, but Cameron couldn’t worry about that. He had enough problems of his own.
Principal amongst them was the realisation that he may well have found the person he was destined to be mated to, only to discover that he was the last kind of man on the planet that Cameron would ever want to be bound to for the rest of his life.