7. My Pup Breathes Fire?! #2
Instead of drawing attention to it, Zenith changed the subject. He brushed his knuckles over Emre’s nape. “Want a neck massage?”
Emre inhaled sharply. “You don’t mind giving me one?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t prepared to give it,” Zenith rumbled.
He closed his hand over Emre’s nape, blunt points of contact that sent a jolt down Emre’s spine.
Zenith’s touch was soothing, slow kneading strokes that pressed into his tense muscles and worked them loose.
He found knots that Emre didn’t even know about; his fingers pulled and dug in, and all Emre could do was moan.
It was everything he didn’t know he needed.
“That feels amazing,” Emre whimpered.
“Good.”
“How are you so good at everything?”
“I’m not,” Zenith said dryly. “I’ve never held a baby until Abbie, to be honest.”
Emre twitched, leaning back so he could look Zenith in the eye. “Really? But you’re over a hundred years old!”
“Yes, and I’ve never had a good reason to go up to an omega and ask.”
“But your brothers...? Surely they have babies of their own?”
“Not until very recently.” Zenith frowned. “And the dr—the babies are so tiny that I was afraid of holding and breaking them.”
“You handled Abbie perfectly fine,” Emre pointed out.
“Because I watched you with her. I like to think I learned a little from that,” Zenith said, almost shyly.
“Gosh, you’re cute,” Emre blurted. And cringed.
Zenith’s ears turned pink. “Really?”
“Yes,” Emre said instead of lying. “And I have no filter.”
“I’m really enjoying your lack of filter, for what it’s worth. It’s very charming.”
“Well, good. Because there’s a lot more where that came from. It’s like projectile poop. Like the one time Abbie was sick and it went everywhere.” Emre paused, looking down at his belly. “Oh gods. I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to avoid it with this one.”
Zenith winced. “I guess that means we’re coming up with some Dooms Day plans.”
Emre perked up. “You’d help me plan for the poopnami?”
“Poopnami?”
“You know... Poop tsunami. Because that’s literally what it’s like.”
With utmost seriousness, Zenith said, “I’ll treat it like mission planning.”
Maybe it would go better this time around, if Zenith helped. Emre wasn’t going to count on it because they had only known each other for a few days, but it was still nice to think about.
Now that he was more comfortable with Zenith’s nearness, Emre snuggled into the alpha, pausing when he realized what he was doing. But Zenith didn’t stop his neck massage or pull away. He even welcomed Emre’s foot-in-mouth syndrome.
Emre huddled closer, sniffing at him.
Zenith smelled really good.
“Emre?” Zenith murmured.
“Mmm,” Emre said, burying his nose between Zenith’s pecs. His muscles were warm and solid. Were they just as sculpted further down? Emre wanted to touch; he wanted to slip his hand under Zenith’s shirt and explore his abs, maybe follow that trail of hair down to his waistband.
Maybe even down the front of his underwear.
I gotta stop before this gets weird!
He wrenched his face away from Zenith, warmth blooming in his body. This wasn’t the right time for his hormones to act up.
Except now that he had these thoughts in his head, he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to rub himself nakedly all over this alpha. He would bury his nose in the strongest-smelling parts of Zenith’s body—his neck, under his arms, between his legs...
Save the thoughts for tonight, he managed to tell his body without saying it aloud. When Zenith is asleep.
“Emre?” Zenith said again.
“You smell very good,” Emre blurted. “Very hot. Um, temperature-hot. Not sex-hot.”
And his traitorous heart skipped a beat.
Zenith’s eyebrow ticked up.
“I, um.” Emre ducked his head, his ears burning.
“Mind if I rub some lotion on your belly?”
Emre blinked. “You have lotion?”
“For my dry hands in winter. All-natural ingredients. Let me show you.”
Zenith guided Emre to sit on the leather couch in the living room, before heading to his bedroom. His pants clung to his ass, his shirt stretched snugly across his broad shoulders.
Emre drooled a little. He hurriedly swallowed and tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help hearing a drawer slide open and shut.
Did Zenith store his lube in there too? For when he jerked off at night? Or did he make enough precum that he didn’t need it?
Emre bit his lip, wishing he had worn underwear so it would keep his cock down. Maybe his belly would help to hide it?
Zenith stepped back out of his bedroom with a bottle. “Green tea lotion. It smells soothing to me. What do you think?”
He handed the bottle over; it smelled like green things, like a spa resort tucked into a forest.
“Let’s try it,” Emre said, pulling his shirt up over his belly.
Zenith rumbled at the sight. With a careful look, he sat next to Emre on the couch, their bodies turned toward each other.
“Tell me to stop, if any of this makes you uncomfortable.”
Emre nodded, his gaze glued to Zenith’s large hands. Zenith squirted white lotion onto his palm and rubbed it between his hands to warm it up.
When he smeared the whitish fluid on Emre’s belly, the words fell out.
“It looks like cum,” said Emre’s mouth.
Zenith froze. Emre buried his face in his hands.
“I didn’t mean to say that! I mean, uh, it looks like lotion. Yes. White stuff.” Emre cringed.
Zenith cleared his throat. “So... Do I proceed?”
“Yes, rub your cum into me.” Emre stiffened and hunched his shoulders. “Oh gods. Why? No. I meant, rub your lotion into me. It’s just some sticky white stuff. It’s... That sounded so bad. Oh Mother Moon. Please just kill me.”
“No killing today,” Zenith said, but there was a smile in his voice.
His palms grazed Emre’s belly, two bursts of warmth that sent a shock of bliss down to Emre’s toes. Zenith smoothed his palms over Emre’s belly, drawing them in small circles that slowly grew larger, spreading lotion everywhere. It was good, the scent light instead of overpowering.
Then the pup rolled, and Zenith gave a low, pleased rumble.
“Hey, pup,” Zenith said, following the movement with his hands. “Just giving your dad a quick rub to make him more comfortable. Hi.”
Zenith would be amazing with babies, and he didn’t even know it.
Emre swallowed hard, warmth creeping up his neck. “Um, could you do my back too? It hurts a lot of the time. Babies are heavy.”
“Okay.”
Now that he had covered the top half of Emre’s belly and the surrounding skin, Zenith’s hands eased lower, to the sides of Emre’s belly, over his outie belly button, then further south.
Emre’s face grew redder. He wasn’t fully hard right now, but if Zenith’s hands drifted lower, if he tried to moisturize any skin further south...
“Your heart’s going faster,” Zenith murmured, brushing his fingers over the faint line of hair going south.
He was so close to accidentally bumping against Emre’s bulge.
What would that feel like?
Slick leaked out of Emre’s hole; his ears burned like he’d popped them into an oven.
Then Zenith’s fingers snagged against the front of his pants, almost touching but not quite, and Emre’s cock shot upright.
“Um, my back?” Emre squeaked.
Zenith paused. Then he took his hands away. “Let me get behind you.”
“Oh gods,” Emre whispered, his slick soaking through his pants. He absolutely could not stand up after this, because the wet spot would be so obvious.
Zenith squirted more cum—more lube onto his palm. He sat on the couch behind Emre and held Emre’s hip lightly with one hand. Then he smeared the lotion onto Emre’s lower back, carefully kneading his aching muscles with both hands. Emre moaned.
“Your hands feel so good when you’re behind me,” said his mouth.
The rest of him wanted to curl up in embarrassment.
“I-I mean, your everything feels good. Um. Oh no. I meant the massage. That you’re doing with your hands. Not with any other part of your body.”
Zenith coughed lightly, but his scent... Did his scent grow a little muskier?
The more Zenith massaged, the wetter and harder Emre grew—except Zenith could not see either the wet spot, or Emre’s straining cock. That was such a relief.
Finally, when Emre was leaning one shoulder against the back of the couch, drifting in a blissful haze, Zenith’s fingers slowed to a stop.
“Good enough?” Zenith asked quietly.
“That was better than sex,” Emre blurted.
“Hmm,” Zenith said. Instead of touching Emre elsewhere, he let his hands fall away. Emre whined at the sudden coldness on his skin. He wanted to grab Zenith’s hand and shove it between his legs; he wanted to spread and offer himself.
But if he was going to be staying in Zenith’s apartment for the next two days, he couldn’t risk fucking this all up.
Zenith grabbed a blanket and lightly draped it around Emre. “More later?”
“Okay,” Emre said. “Thank you.”
Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight, after Zenith had fallen asleep, Emre would let himself think about where else this massage could’ve gone.