38. Perfect. Mate. Mine. #2
Perfect. Mate. Mine.
Like this, he seems more at ease, and I’m able to build a steady rhythm with my arm.
In and out, twisting left and then right, alternating spreading with scissoring, until he’s reduced to a boneless puddle of need.
But with his stretched hole now only a couple of inches from my own eager dick, I empathise with his predicament.
Milo cants his hips again, trying to swap what plugs him from my fingers to my cock.
My chuckle is low and dark. “Impatient, Pup?”
He nods emphatically. “I know I said… I want you to—ungh…” When I rotate my wrist and stare into the gape, he gasps. “Knot me. But if you don’t fuck me soon, I might die before we get there.”
Smiling at my mate’s dramatics, I shuffle closer still and offer him the tub of lube once more. I direct him to, “Slick me up. I need ye to feel it for yerself and judge if yer ready, because I could spend all day training ye to take my fist. You have the most enticing arse, Milo.”
Doing as he’s told, he wraps a handful of white cream around my hard-as-steel length, then his eyes shoot wide open. “Fuck, you’re as big as my wrist!”
“That’s nothing. Wait until ye feel my knot.” Smirking, I add my little finger to the fold, and crook all four digits just inside his rim.
“Oh. My. Goddess,” Milo pants, eyes crossing. “I can take you, Rowan. Please, I want to feel you.”
Nodding, and trusting my mate to tell me the truth, I withdraw my hand and help guide Milo closer so he’s in my lap. “I want ye to control this, go as slow as ye need.”
He braces himself on his hand, knees bent and feet by my hips, and I grip myself at the base so he can do what he needs to. That pressure on my sensitised bulb is exquisite, but it’s nothing compared to when the crown of my dick breaches that first ring of muscle.
I hold my breath expecting that my human mate will want to pause and adjust, but he doesn’t. He slides himself further—all the way—slowly sinking me inside until there’s no possible length left to swallow.
Sweat beads on my brow, and on an exhale, I rest back on my elbows. From this angle, I have a front row seat to our mating. “Fuckin’ hell, Milo. Yer stunning.”
He gives a quick test bounce, and I drop my head back.
“Take what ye want,” I tell him.
And he does.
“You feel so good,” Milo whispers, head thrown back, rock-hard dick bouncing between us, and a fine sheen of sweat that makes his skin glisten in the afternoon sun. “I’m so full, Ro. I love it.”
My wolf pushes forward, drawn by our mate’s unabashed pleasure. My slicked-up hands support Milo’s pelvis, helping take some of the weight as he glides over the ridges of my cock. The sight is mesmerising.
It’s always something mated werewolves will go on about in the barracks, or away on training missions, how nothing compares to sex with your mate—but there are no words of wisdom, no heartfelt reconnoitre, that could have prepared me for this. For Milo.
It’s not just the strangling hold his hole has on me, nor the slicked glide of his rim along my length, it’s…
something other. With each rock of his hips, Milo promises a future that I thought I wouldn’t get until I left active duty, and maybe not even then.
Each of my mate’s heartbeats echoes through my body, as if imprinting their rhythm alongside my own, and tying us together for eternity.
Each bitten-off curse, as I tag that spot inside him over and over, calls to my wolf.
Mate. Mine. Forever.
Tingles build at the base of my spine, and I know it won’t be long now. My cuspids, already proud in my mouth, elongate as my ardour rises. Purposefully, I position my fingers at the base of my cock, so that next time Milo sinks down one will slip inside to widen him further.
He shudders at the stretch, but doesn’t stop.
With my dick vanishing inside Milo where he splits himself open right on my lap, his body coated in sweat and his head thrown back in pleasure, I marvel at my mate’s ability to take me so well despite that he isn’t an omega. Love that I can bring him such pleasure.
But he does need to stretch more before the knot that threatens is allowed to swell inside him. Applying pressure, I slip a second finger in alongside my cock. We both moan.
Amazed, I keep my fingers still, tugging on the bottom of Milo’s obscenely stretched and reddened rim, and he slows his pace to a sensual roll of his hips. But still, he doesn’t stop.
Milo’s heat consumes me, and for a moment I struggle with the idea that we chose him—that he wasn’t made especially for us.
My wolf, close to the surface, watches the rapid pulsing of Milo’s carotid artery and takes in our combined scent. Spiced apples.
If he were an omega, he’d have a scent gland located very close to that artery, and when my wolf sinks his teeth into it to place his mark, he’d lock our scents together, and trigger Milo’s heat—my rut. Milo isn’t an omega, and yet… there’s this overwhelming pressure building inside me.
Mate. Claim. Fuck.
The slow and repetitive drag of Milo’s slick heat is driving me wild. Literally.
I slip in a third finger, and the whole-body shudder my mate gives triggers a tiny dribble of cum to slide torturously over his glans and down his still-hard length.
The air between us changes in an instant, and my wolf rumbles a growl.
Milo’s rhythm falters, and I pounce.
Withdrawing my hand, I lean forward to scoop my mate up and bring him close.
Sitting him directly upright in my lap, I secure my right hand at his nape and my left around his narrow waist, then piston my hips—drilling into Milo for all I’m worth. Locking his feet around my lower back, and his arms around my neck, all he can do is hang on as my wolf takes over.
“Hol-y f-uck,” he moans, but his voice vibrates with the force of every thrust.
I brace my open mouth over Milo’s neck, tasting his sweat, our sex, and apples. It’s maddening.
Mate.
When Milo mutters fucked-out words that I can’t decipher, when his hand drifts to the back of my head and he presses firmly, my wolf bites down and my knot swells.
Mate. Mine.
Milo’s hot seed pumps over my skin where his cock is trapped between us.
Like a tsunami, my own orgasm builds throughout my lower back and along every nerve and blood vessel. The swelling of my knot at the base of my length is primal, ancient, and instinctive.
I ejaculate so far inside Milo that I have no doubt at all that had he been an omega, that I’d be depositing my mating load directly into his womb.
Milo’s whispers on my sensitised skin supercharge me. As if spelled, another wave of arousal washes over me, triggering a secondary orgasm. My cock kicks so fiercely it’s almost painful, and I pull Milo down—hard—while I rut up, grinding my hips and panting harshly.
Our lips are still secured on each other’s skin, and only the sound of rushing blood and the intense feeling of our new mate bond exists.
Mate.
Our sweaty chests touch with each rapid heartbeat.
After a few minutes of nothing but existing and heavy breathing, Milo drops his head to my shoulder and laughs. The motion tightens him around my knot that’s now locked inside him. We both groan.
Then Milo whispers, “Am I dead?”
I lick over the raw bite mark on his skin, and smile.
“That was the best sex of my life.”
Pride and love fill my wolf at his declaration. Freeing an arm, I wipe the sweat-soaked strands of platinum-blond hair off my new mate’s beautiful face. “I’m not done with ye yet, Pup.”
In answer, Milo clenches, and I growl. He laughs again, and that movement is more intense this time.
I kiss over my mark on the junction of his neck and shoulder, amazed to see the scars instantly forming and turning silver, just like they might if he were an omega. That sight, of my mating mark forever on Milo’s skin, does things to me, and I grind my knot up into him.
Milo’s eyes flutter shut. “Ungh,” is all he can manage.
Settling him close, and into what I hope is a comfortable position, I try and reassure him about what happens next. “Yer probably going to sleep soon, mating can take it out of ye, but yer safe. I’ll keep ye safe. Always.”
I seal that vow with a kiss to Milo’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips.
He kisses me back eagerly, but his speech is a little slurred when he asks, “Lemme see.”
Helping support the weight of his head, I ask him, “See what?”
Grey eyes, almost silver, struggle to focus. “My mark… lemme see.”
My smile is wide; my mate is perfect. “When my knot goes down, and after a power nap, I’ll gladly show ye. It’s beautiful on ye, Milo.”
I trace the perfect crescent-shaped bite with a reverent touch, and goosebumps break out over his skin. Milo’s eyes roll and cross, before he refocuses and shakes his head, triggering another spasm in my knot. We both groan.
“Meant your mark… silly.”
“My mark?”
Milo, evidently done talking, takes my head in his hands and tilts it over, stretching out my neck.
“It’s the Luna del Lupo!” he gasps.
“The what? Pup, yer not making sense.”
Milo smiles and nods, eyes still on my neck. He’s happy and sated—I can feel it through our bond. “I’m not a wolf, but I wanted to mark you in return. To show my claim on you. So I cast a spell, and now you have my mark. The Luna del Lupo.”
He allows his head to finally flop onto my shoulder, and his words turn over in my mind. My mate marked me with magic? How’s that even possible?
But I know it’s true when Milo’s lips close over it in a kiss, because it’s like a direct line to his soul.
Every cell in my body tunes into my mate, who I can tell has now passed out. I cradle him close.
Protect. Mate. Mine.