Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BOONE
I wake wrong.
That’s the first, immediate thought—sharp and disorienting, like surfacing too fast from deep water. For a moment, I don’t know where I am, or when, or why my body feels… heavy. Warm. Anchored.
Then sensation floods in.
Heat at my chest. Weight along my side. A familiar, maddeningly specific scent curled right under my chin.
Elias.
He’s pressed against me, half draped across my torso, one leg thrown over my thigh like he belongs there. His hair is soft against my throat. His breath ghosts over my skin in soft, steady bursts that tighten the ache deep in my chest.
I freeze. Not because I don’t want this, because I do. Too much.
The second realization hits harder: I am not in human form.
At some point in the night—without intending to, without waking—I shifted back.
That should not happen.
It does not happen.
I haven’t slept deeply enough for that in… decades. I don’t need to. My body doesn’t demand it the way humans’ do. Rest, yes. Trance. Awareness threaded through everything. But this—this full, heavy sleep, this unguarded lapse? It rattles me to my core.
Panic spikes, sharp and electric. I should pull away. I should move. I should fix this—shift back, create distance, restore control.
I don’t. Because Elias stirs.
Just a little. A soft sound leaves him, low and unguarded, and his hips shift instinctively—pressing, rocking once, then again, slow and thoughtless.
Against me.
My breath punches out of my lungs in a strangled sound I can’t stop.
Oh. Oh no.
My body reacts immediately, traitorous and hungry and awake in a way that obliterates any hope of calm. Need coils low. It’s powerful and insistent, and I know—I know—that I’m losing control of instincts I normally keep locked away without effort.
I squeeze my eyes shut, every muscle going taut.
Do not move. Do not react. Do not—
Elias hums in his sleep and grinds down again, more deliberately this time, and that’s it. The last fragile thread snaps.
I feel the shift in my body as clearly as an earthquake—inevitable, unstoppable—and I groan under my breath as my cock, which I’d carefully contained, slips free. There’s too much sensation. Too much contact. Too much him.
Before I can gather myself, Elias’s hand slides between us, all warmth, curious certainty. His fingers brush me, and he stills. The air changes.
“Boone?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, desire woven through every syllable.
My name on his lips is soft and wanting.
I open my eyes to Elias looking at me. His lashes are heavy, pupils blown wide in the dim early light. There’s no fear in his expression or surprise. Just dawning awareness and unmistakable desire.
“I—” I try, and fail, to speak. My voice comes out rough, torn from somewhere too deep. “Elias. I didn’t mean to—”
A slow and intimate smile forms before he says, “I know. You’re shaking.”
I am. Want will do that to a Bigfoot who’s found himself completely undone by an adorable human who seems to have me under his spell.
He shifts, deliberate now, sliding up my body so we’re face-to-face—so close I can feel the heat of him, smell the sharp-sweet edge of his arousal, feel his pulse racing where his chest presses to mine.
“I want you,” he says simply. No hesitation. No embarrassment. “I’ve wanted you since I woke up and realized you were holding me like I belong there.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t understand,” I manage. “Like this—my size—”
His hand tightens, grounding, anchoring. “I understand enough to know I’m not scared.”
Unfurling ferns. The restraint I’ve been clinging to frays, thread by thread.
He moves again, straddling me without ceremony, his weight settling into me in a way that makes my vision blur. He leans down and kisses me—hot, open, unrestrained—and any remaining thought of caution evaporates.
I groan into his mouth, helpless, overwhelmed by sensation and scent and the rightness of him there.
“Elias,” I warn weakly.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, breath coming fast. “Are you sure?”
The question lands like a gift.
Choice.
Consent.
Trust.
I’ve never been more certain of anything in my long, ridiculous life.
“Yes,” I say, voice breaking. “I am. I’ve never been more sure.”
Fierce, incandescent resolve in his expression. “Then don’t hold back,” he whispers.
I don’t.
Elias is on me—warm, solid, and very real—and my body responds with a force that’s almost frightening in its intensity. Every point of contact feels amplified, like my nerves have been stripped bare and rewired directly to want.
I’ve taken storms head-on without flinching. I’ve faced down hunters, fire, the long, slow grind of centuries. None of it compares to this.
Elias’s hands move with a confidence that steals my breath, not hurried, not hesitant as he seeks out my slick channel.
While it’s not the first time he’s explored, this is different.
Claiming. He learns me by touch the way he learns everything—curious, attentive, deeply present—and every place he presses inside me feels like a question my body answers without consulting my brain.
I rumble low in my chest, a sound I don’t bother trying to swallow. There’s no point. Elias seems to feel my slip of control, his movements slowing just enough to savor the effect he’s having on me.
“Boone,” he murmurs, breath hot against my throat, “you’re so tense.”
“I’m trying,” I manage, voice rough, “not to break something.”
His mouth curves into a smile I can hear. “You won’t.”
I want to believe him.
He shifts again, settling more firmly over me. The contact sends a wave of sensation crashing through my body. I grip the ground with one hand, the earth solid beneath my palm, anchoring myself as best I can.
“Elias,” I warn, because I don’t know what else to do.
He leans down, presses his forehead to my chest, and breathes me in before saying, “I’m right here. If you need me to stop—”
“No,” I say, the word torn from me. “Don’t stop.”
The relief that flashes across his face is almost overwhelming. He crawls up my body and kisses me again—slower this time, deeper—and I meet him with everything I have left, pouring months of restraint and years of loneliness into the press of my mouth against his.
He eases away, keeping eye contact as he does so, shuffling down my body a little. When he grips my cock, I shudder, which earns me a heated smile.
“You know, producing your own lubrication is seriously a remarkable trait.”
I nod, unable to roll my eyes or even say something about just how evolved my species is. It’s impossible to do any of that as he works his palm up and down my shaft, coating himself with my slick as he does so.
My brain can’t compute anything beyond how beautiful Elias is and how I never want him to stop.
I want him to always touch me. My cock, my slit, deep inside my channel, my mouth.
Strangling ferns, even him touching my hand innocently will be enough.
Admittedly, I want more right this second.
Him buried deep inside me, pushing against my cock, my root—
He nudges at my entrance and my breath hitches, which I’ll never admit to anyone, let alone will I admit that he has me so completely under his spell.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice low and shaky.
“Yes.”
His cock presses more firmly against me, my slit widening around him as he pushes farther and farther inside, sliding exquisitely against my root, where I’m most sensitive.
“Elias.” His name escapes as a plea.
I can’t stand any space between us. Not anymore. Grasping his ass with my palm, I tug him toward me. He thrusts, his strangled cry of pleasure the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“More,” I demand with a growl.
His hips move, unselfconscious, seeking friction, and I feel it everywhere.
Need builds with relentless intensity, my body reacting in ways that make my vision blur at the edges.
I’ve never been this exposed, this open to another being, and the vulnerability of it hits me almost as hard as the desire.
He makes a soft sound, and that’s what does it—hearing how affected he is, how undone.
Lifting one massive hand, I cup the back of his neck, careful despite the haze overtaking me, and hold him there. His pulse jumps under my thumb, and he shivers.
“Boone,” he breathes, eyes half lidded as he pulls his hips back before plunging inside me once more. My cock drags across his stomach with each thrust. “You feel incredible.”
The tight, aching knot in my chest loosens at that. Not pride. Not triumph.
But belonging.
I shift beneath him, instinctively adjusting, and the movement drags a low, helpless groan from my throat. Elias freezes for half a second, eyes dark, then smiles like he’s just discovered a secret he plans to keep forever.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I laugh—short, breathless, a little wild. “No.” How can I ever be okay after this? “But do not stop.”
His answering grin is wicked and fond all at once.
He leans down again, trailing kisses along my jaw, my throat, my chest. Every brush of his lips is fire, every touch a spark, and I can feel my control slipping further with each heartbeat.
This is too much. And not nearly enough.
I tilt my head back, exposing more of myself without thinking, and Elias responds immediately, following the invitation with an eagerness that sends every instinct in me roaring awake. My body arches, responding on instinct, and the sound that leaves me is raw and unguarded.
He pauses, eyes wide, breath shaking. “Boone,” he whispers, awed. “You—”
I don’t let him finish. I pull him back up, angling, practically contorting my body to reach him and crashing my mouth to his, needing the grounding contact of his lips, his weight, his warmth. He kisses me back just as fiercely, hands sliding over my shoulders, my chest, everywhere he can reach.
We move together in a rhythm that feels older than thought, guided by nothing but sensation and trust. The forest around us fades into nothing but background noise, the crackle of the dying fire a distant echo.