“I know.”
“We’re going to be—”
“Carter. Shut your mouth before I fuck it again.”
“Oh, look who’s got all the words now. You asshole.”
“I’m trying to get you in my asshole.”
“Yes,” I said. “That. Do that.”
He sat back up, looking pleased with himself. He reached behind him again as he raised his hips. He held on to my dick before he lowered himself slowly as the sirens continued to bray. The pressure was immense, and I was lost to it, to him, and all the while the specter of what lay ahead hung over us both. It was heavy, but my hands were on his thighs, his muscles quivering underneath my fingers. He put his hands flat against my chest as he grimaced, baring his teeth and hissing out a breath.
“Slow,” I told him. “Slow.”
He said, “I know, Carter. I know.”
He settled onto my lap and bent over, his head hanging above mine. He blinked rapidly, and there was green, and then violet, and then it was orange, orange, orange, and I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think it could be like this.
He began to move, rolling his hips. He gasped as he rose up and slid back down. I was too scared to move, not wanting to hurt him and not wanting to end this before it even began.
He said, “Carter, Carter,” and across my vision, little flashes of light, the room growing brighter, the haze receding into sharp clarity.
I reached up and held on to the back of his neck. “It’s all right,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”
He said, “Please” and “Don’t let him have me” and “Don’t let him take me” and “It hurts, Carter, I can feel him in my head and it hurts.”
I rose up and kissed the words away, the angle awkward, my stomach straining. He breathed into my mouth as I dared to move, fucking up into him with a quick snap of my hips. His mouth fell open as I did it again and again. He was shaking, a full-body tremor that I couldn’t stop. He pulled away, putting his hands on my knees behind him, arching his back. His dick slapped against his stomach. I reached for it, but he growled at me, knocking my hand away before stroking himself.
I said, “Do you want this? With me?”
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “Me and you. Nothing else matters.”
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “Gavin.”
His mouth dropped open, the cords on his neck thick as he groaned. An urge roared through me, a primal instinct at the sight of his throat. My fangs dropped, and I knew, I knew this was it. This was an ending. Whatever followed, whatever would happen next, we’d gotten to this moment, and I said, “Fuck him. Hear me. Hear me. I’m the voice in your head. I’m your pack.”
The sirens screamed.
A low rumble crawled up from his chest and through his throat.
I saw the flash of fangs.
He leaned forward again. “Mine,” he said, and it came from the wolf. “Mine.”
“Bite,” I snarled at him. “I’m close. Do it. Do it now.”
He didn’t hesitate.
I felt the bright wave of pleasurepain the moment he bit down, but it was lost in the hot slick of blood that filled my own mouth as my fangs sank into his skin between his shoulder and neck.
I
I