Chapter 17 #2
I can feel the edge approaching—sharp, inevitable—and it terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure. I’ve never let myself go like this with anyone. Never allowed another being this much access to my body, my reactions, my weakness.
Elias senses it. I know he does.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, really look at me, his expression softening even as his breath comes fast. “Hey,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you.”
Those three words hit harder than anything else.
I close my eyes for a heartbeat, then open them again, meeting his gaze. “I know.”
And I do. Completely.
I hold him tighter, grounding us both, and let myself fall the rest of the way as he fucks into me—into sensation, into connection, into the terrifying, wonderful reality of wanting him this much.
A strangled moan rends the air, the sound followed by Elias’s “Oh fuck, fuck” as his hips jerk and he releases deep inside me.
The sensation unravels me, the heat of his cum painting my root enough to push me over the edge. My sack clenches from behind my cock and I roar as I come, spilling between us with a force that would shame a mountain storm finally unleashing rain.
I shudder and gasp, my vision whiting out as Elias’s perfect weight falls against me.
The light has changed by the time I come back to myself.
Not the sharp gold of early morning, but the softer spill of it—filtered through branches, broken into drifting flecks that move slowly across Elias’s skin as he rests on top of me. The forest breathes around us. Leaves whisper. A bird calls somewhere close, then farther away.
My body feels heavy in the best way. Loose. Spent. Like I’ve been wrung out and set gently back into place.
Elias is sprawled across my chest and stomach, his weight warm and solid. One of his arms is draped over my shoulder, his hand curled loosely near my collarbone. His hair is wild, the light catching in the coppery strands. There’s a faint flush still coloring his cheeks.
He looks… undone.
The sight of it fills me with a quiet sense of reverence.
I breathe slowly, careful not to jostle him.
My arms are wrapped around him without conscious thought—one broad hand resting at the small of his back, the other splayed over his shoulder, thumb brushing idle circles into warm skin.
The earth beneath us is cool and solid, the blanket rumpled and half twisted beneath our legs.
This—this—is what my body remembers.
Not the hunger or the heat.
The after.
Elias stirs, a small sound leaving him, more hum than word. He shifts, pressing closer, his cheek sliding against my chest. His lashes flutter before his eyes open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as he takes me in.
There’s a moment where he just looks at me.
Really looks.
His gaze moves over my face, my shoulders, the line of my throat, like he’s cataloging me for memory. Like he wants to commit every detail to memory.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough and warm.
“Hey,” I answer quietly.
His mouth curves into a soft, unguarded smile. It hits me harder than anything that came before. “That,” he says, shifting just enough to prop himself up on one elbow, “was… wow.”
I huff a breath that might be a laugh. “You are very articulate.”
He grins wider. “I have a PhD. I can expand if you’d like.”
“Please don’t,” I say dryly.
He laughs, the sound bright and loose, and then his expression softens again. He reaches up, fingers brushing my jaw, my cheek, like he’s reassuring himself that I’m still here.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, surprising myself with how easily the answer comes. “Yes. Are you?”
“Very,” he says without hesitation. “More than okay.”
He settles back down, resting his head over my heart. I feel his ear press against my chest, and I’m acutely aware of the steady, powerful rhythm beneath it. He exhales, a long, contented breath.
“I could stay like this forever,” he says.
The words are casual, but they land deeply. I swallow. “We will have to move eventually.”
“I know,” he says. “But not yet.”
Not yet.
I tighten my hold on him, just a little. He makes a pleased sound and relaxes fully into me, trusting my size, my strength, my presence.
The sun creeps higher, warming my back, gilding the edges of the clearing. The fire has burned down to embers, faint wisps of smoke curling upward. The device I fixed earlier stands silent and steady among the trees, its runes dim and satisfied.
Everything feels… aligned.
Elias shifts again, craning his neck to look up at me. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “this might be the best morning I’ve had in years.”
My chest tightens. “Me too,” I admit.
His eyebrows lift, pleased. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say simply.
He smiles, then leans up and kisses me—slow and unhurried, a press of lips that tastes like warmth and reassurance rather than hunger. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“You let me stay,” he says quietly.
“I wasn’t letting you go anywhere.”
Vulnerability flickers across his face, which he quickly smoothes away. He nods once, like he’s accepting something important.
“Good,” he murmurs.
We lie together for a while longer, the world slowly resuming its shape around us. Eventually Elias sighs and stretches, long and languid, before shifting off me to sit beside my shoulder.
He glances around, taking in the clearing, the trees, the soft light. Then he looks back at me, eyes bright with a familiar spark of curiosity.
“So,” he says, “what’s next on today’s itinerary?”
I snort softly. “You don’t waste time.”
“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “But I’m very motivated.”
I push myself up onto one elbow, towering over him again, and he looks up at me without a hint of hesitation. Without fear or doubt.
A quiet certainty settles over me—steady and irrevocable. “We’ll finish breakfast,” I say. “Then we’ll continue east. There’s another node to check before nightfall.”
“And after that?”
I consider him. The road ahead. The journey we’ve committed to together.
“After that,” I say, “we keep going.”
He grins, reaches for my hand, and laces his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Sounds perfect,” he says. “But we might want to get washed up before we do any of that.”
He’s got a point. Removing dried cum from my fur is more difficult than you’d think. What I won’t admit is that I’ve already drawn my cock back inside, and I’ve no intention of washing his cum away.
Not quite yet.