Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Ah—ah Falk!”
Falk slid an arm under Ren’s knee, hiking him up higher to thrust into him easier. Ren shook, trying to keep himself upright with his grip on Falk’s shoulders, tried to keep his own pace as he moved on top of him, but eventually gave up and let Falk do the work.
Falk chuckled when he noticed Ren had gone limp in his arms, nose pressed into his neck. He planted his feet more solidly on the mattress to be able to thrust up harder, faster, until Ren was screaming with every press inside of him.
Falk’s arms tightened around Ren, helping along his rhythm and moving Ren up and down to meet each thrust. Ren’s nails dug into the flesh of his back a smidge harder in warning.
Falk immediately loosened his grip on Ren back into something safer—something less forceful, something that felt less like Falk was trapping him.
It was a fine line, one both of them were still learning.
“Gods, Falk?—”
Falk’s hand wrapped around his cock a moment later, making Ren wail and writhe against the pleasure coursing up his spine. Falk groaned loudly, breaths speeding up until he was panting—the telltale sign Ren had quickly learned told him Falk was close.
Ren whimpered, entire body tensing as Falk dragged him over the edge, stroking him through his orgasm.
Falk shouted out as he came, hips stuttering and his grip on Ren tightening enough for Ren to feel the imprint of his fingertips.
Ren wriggled until Falk wrapped his arms around him and tugged him closer.
Ren slowly came out of his daze and giggled at the kisses Falk was leaving all over his face and neck.
He rocked his hips slightly, feeling Falk still inside him even though he was soft now.
Falk nipped gently at his scent gland. Ren wished he would bite it for real, wished he would claim him, wished he would?—
“Was that okay?”
Ren grinned as he propped himself up on Falk’s chest to be able to look at him. He traced a finger over Falk’s collarbone and up to his jaw. “Very okay,” he hummed. “I like being on top.”
Falk laughed. “You barely did any work.”
Ren pursed his lips in a mock frown. “My legs hurt,” he huffed. “I’m not used to it yet.”
“It was less than a minute,” Falk said.
“Not all of us have Warrior training,” Ren huffed.
He sat up, resting back on Falk’s hips. Ren twisted his hips a few times, making Falk groan loudly, eyes squeezing shut at the overstimulation. He laughed as he finally got up, and Falk finally slid out along with the now-familiar feeling of cum dripping down to his thighs.
“Bath,” he insisted, grabbing Falk’s hand and trying to drag him out of bed.
“A quick one,” Falk said. “We have plans today, don’t you remember?”
“Ah, yes, this mysterious secret adventure you keep mentioning,” Ren hummed as he headed to their bathroom.
Ren forced them to go slow—took his time scrubbing Falk’s hair, making sure to lean into him so their skin touched as much as possible to etch the feeling of it into his brain. He scrubbed every inch of Falk, slapping his hands away when he tried to take over.
And Falk took his time too, kissing Ren every time he moved to a new part of him, his lips pressing to Ren’s mouth or forehead or cheek or jaw or neck.
When they got out and moved to get dressed, Ren snatched one of Falk’s sweaters out of his closet. Falk watched him with raised eyebrows. “It’s a bit warm for a sweater, don’t you think?”
Ren pressed the cloth to his nose, fisting the soft knit harder.
His fingers glided over the spot that was stitched back together with a different thread and his own less skilled hands.
“Yes, but this smells the most like you,” Ren stated.
Falk didn’t argue; he was just as possessive of Ren.
Even if they weren’t mated, he wanted other Alphas to know who belonged to him, and who he belonged to in turn.
“So, where are we going?” Ren asked as they walked down the never-ending stairs on their way down to the ground level of the castle.
“It would defeat the purpose of a surprise if I told you,” Falk hummed. Ren couldn’t argue or complain, not when Falk’s hand wrapped around his own and their fingers laced together. Ren smiled to himself at the feeling of Falk’s warmth.
They headed out similarly to when they had gone on patrol, down one of the main roads that cut through the valley, connecting the castle to the farms further out and making an easy path to the borders.
Their walk through the woods was quiet. It was a bright day, the sunshine actually able to break through the few wispy clouds dotting the blue of the sky. The leaves rustled on the trees around them, and the soft scittering sounds came from the smaller animals running among the shrubbery.
“So, you know how we didn’t get to do anything for your birthday?” Falk finally asked as the trees began to thin out and fields appeared in front of them.
“Yeah, cause you got called to a meeting,” Ren said with a nod.
“Well, I wanted to make it up to you,” Falk said, looking at him with a smile that made Ren melt a little every time. “You’ve been here in the castle for over two years now.” It was a crazy thing to think about. Sometimes, it still didn’t feel real to Ren.
Falk put his hand on Ren’s lower back, just shy of resting it right on his ass—making Ren’s stomach do little somersaults in his gut—and steered him toward a path they hadn’t gone down before.
“Yeah, I can’t believe it's been so long,” Ren said slowly, glancing around as though ready for a surprise to suddenly pop out at him.
“Well, I remembered you telling me about your brother and how much you cared about him and your mom,” Falk continued, “I know it must have been really tough for you to be away from them for so long, and I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring you back before this?—”
Falk's words got drowned out by the towering cliffs above them. A looming presence that made Ren shiver whenever he was this close to one of them—but this one, was cut with a path that wound up through the rocks, up to the top of the valley.
Ren wasn't ready to go back.
Not now. Not ever.
Ren stopped walking, freezing in place as he gaped up at the cliff.
Falk stopped as well, their hands still linked, and stared back at him in confusion. “Ren?”
“Where are we going?” Ren asked, hoping he had heard Falk wrong. His heart picked up, his pulse stuttering in his throat.
“Are you okay?” Falk asked. His gaze trailed over Ren’s form—tense, almost shaking. “What’s wrong?”
“Where. Are. We. Going?” Ren asked again, his voice far sharper than he ever usually was with Falk.
The corners of Falk’s lips pulled down in confusion. “I… I thought it would be nice if we went up to the cliffs so you could see your family?—”
Falk’s lips were still moving but Ren couldn’t hear anything more than his heaving, panting breaths that didn’t fully fill his lungs.
He watched Falk’s lips, trying to focus on them rather than the sudden flashes running through his mind—the taunting smiles of Alphas surrounding him, the red, screaming face of his mother a moment before he was slapped over and over again, the pitying face of his own brother who did nothing to stop it, the laughing Warriors he thought he could trust, his mentor shouting at him that he would never be good enough, all of the Wolves who stared at him as he was dragged through the village, covered in blood—already broken by that point.
He could almost feel the ache he had associated with the first nineteen years of his life as though it was a fresh wound.
Falk’s lips were blurry now, his features pinched with concern, fading in and out in front of Ren’s eyes.
Ren took another breath. He kept trying to pull in more air, but less and less oxygen made it in each time until his entire chest burned in pain. Ren reached up, grabbing his chest with one hand and scratching at his throat with the other—maybe he could open it, could make the air?—
“Ren!”
A sharp pain struck his legs and then suddenly felt grass beneath his palms as he caught himself. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow the ache pressing on his throat.
“Ren, breathe—breathe like Dr. Bram taught you?—”
Dr. Bram.
Dr. Bram pressing on Ren’s chest, forcing him to feel the rising and falling. Dr. Bram’s long inhales and exhales he told Ren to follow. Dr. Bram reminding Ren he can breathe—even if he feels like he can’t, his lungs are capable of it.
“Ren—”
“Please,” Ren gasped once his lips could work well enough. “Please don’t—please don’t take me there—please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong—please, please?—”
“Ren, breathe. Don’t try to talk,” Falk ordered, his voice stern.
Falk’s hands were on his shoulders, holding him, grounding him.
Falk only spoke again once Ren’s breathing was some semblance of normal—shaky, with tears running down his face—but almost normal.
“Please,” Ren whimpered again, shaking his head furiously. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I did but please don’t. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you, I’m sorry I couldn’t—please don’t take me back there—I’ll do anything. Please let me stay, please, Falk?—”
“What are you talking about?” Falk asked, wide gaze flicking back and forth over Ren’s face as though trying to find the answer there.
“I can’t—” Ren shook his head again, almost dizzy with it. “I can’t go back there—please don’t take me there.”
“Where?” Falk asked, confusion lacing the word. “The Cliffs?”
Ren heaved out another sob, his shaking head turning into quick nods.
“I wasn’t taking you there as a punishment, Ren. I thought you would want to go back to see your home?—”
“No,” Ren whispered again. “No, that place”—he snarled—“that place is not my home.”
They sat there, Ren kneeling, doubled over on himself, forcing his breathing and heart to slow, with Falk looking lost beside him as he tried to hold him. His hands were a comforting presence, rubbing over Ren’s back and squeezing his shoulders each time a shiver ran down his spine.
“Ren, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know?—”