He shifted his arm, sliding it down my back until it was wrapped around my waist, his hand gripping my side so tightly his fingers left indentations in my skin.
The muscles in his forearm bunched and flexed beneath me.
Abruptly, he released my throat — and gods help me, I wanted that hand back, pinning me in place, until he used it to push the blankets down, baring me to the knees.
That was when I remembered I hadn't put on any underwear when I'd stolen his clothes that morning.
Of course he'd stripped off the muddy jeans I'd been wearing before he put me in bed.
And now I was laid out naked, and he was shoving one leg up, spreading me open into a wanton sprawl that only had one purpose.
Or so I thought, until he bent and swallowed my straining cock in one go.
I cried out, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth and throat. Lucian didn't hold me down, didn't back off, just sucked like he was starving for it, licking and — oh fuck, he was growling, the sound vibrating through my overstimulated dick and down into my balls, and lower.
I went off like he'd detonated the atom bomb of blowjobs, my arms flailing until I'd clutched handfuls of his hair, my scream echoing off the rafters.
The bond pulsed in time with my aftershocks of pleasure, as if it was orgasming too.
Lucian swallowed every drop and then slumped with his head against my hip, panting like he'd run a marathon. Like he was a human who'd run a marathon — Lucian could've run a marathon without breaking a sweat.
His broad shoulders heaved, gleaming with sweat, and another full-body shiver ran through me.
I'd done that. Sucking my cock had done that. To Lucian.
I basked in that for a split second, in the incandescent glow of how fucking awesome I was, until reality came crashing back in.
Getting off usually gave me a boost.
Most guys in my experience needed to recharge after sex. Not me. I was always up and bouncing off the walls, at least when I'd enjoyed it.
This time was like that turned up to eleven. My brain was going a mile a minute. The bond had been damaged by my discharge of uncontrolled magic, and it drained me until I fed it with contact with my bond-mate.
I was supercharged now, sure, but that was simply the bond reminding me who was boss.
It was obviously riding Lucian just as hard, even if he didn't realize it.
Guilt seeped in. He'd never actually answered my question about his sexual preferences.
Knowing how to fuck someone up the ass, even knowing where my prostate was, didn't mean he wanted to do it with men.
And fucking was one thing — alpha wolves were a little more omnivorous when it came to getting their dicks wet.
Sucking mine was something totally different.
If magic made me go down on a woman, I'd be grossed out and pissed off, even though, you know, high-five to anyone who loved it.
"Lucian?" I still had my hands in his hair. I forced myself to relax my grip before I gave him a bald spot, and I let my hands fall to the bed. "You okay?"
When he lifted his head, his eyes glowed like stars, yellow shining through the pale blue. "Fine."
It was a little muffled; his fangs were out. Fuck, glad that waited until he was done sucking me off.
"Do you need —"
"What I need is to fuck you," he ground out, hoarse and low. "I need to knot you."
I squeaked and jumped as claws pricked at my side where his fingers flexed against my skin. "Okay, okay, just can you control the shift a little?"
He surged up my body, growling, his arm coming out from under me and dumping me on the bed. In half a second he had both my wrists pinned over my head and his fanged face was an inch away.
His eyes had gone full alpha, and he looked wild, and dangerous, and out of control.
My cock gave a hopeful twitch.
Jesus, there was something wrong with me.
"This is what I am. If you have a problem with that then you shouldn't have mated a fucking werewolf, Landon!"
I opened my mouth to say something about not exactly having a choice, or something straight-up mean.
Because that was how I'd responded to him for years, and — no.
Honestly, he was still a jerk. But now he was my jerk, and he'd just swallowed my come, and when I took a second to think about it...he didn't sound pissed. He sounded hurt.
"I know what you are. I just don't want your claws to come out while you're fingering me."
His mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened, and then he huffed out a laugh. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "That makes sense."
Lucian might have had scary glowing eyes and scary long claws, and his fangs pressing at his lips ought to have been either terrifying or silly-looking, but...yeah, he was kind of adorable like this, all flustered.
It was the amazing orgasm and the happy mate-bond messing with my mind.
It had to be. Because 'adorable' and 'Lucian' didn't go together. That was crazy talk.
Whatever it was, it loosened the grip I'd momentarily gotten on my stupid tongue. I winked at him. "Don't worry, not like it's my first time dealing with the problem..." And then I faltered to a stop, struck dumb by the look on his face.
It was like watching a car crash play out right there in the glow of his eyes and the set of his mouth.
The screeching halt, and then the impact, and then the Oh shit, what the fuck have I done.
He jerked back like I'd punched him right between the eyes. A second later he was digging in the milk crate for the bottle of lube, and then it landed with a thump on the bed next to me. "You take care of it, then," he said, voice clipped.
I flinched.
It would've been better if he'd changed his mind — if the reminder that his cousin used to fuck me on the regular had made him lose interest.
But it couldn't. Because of the bond.
He needed to fuck me as much as I'd needed his touch, and it didn't matter how little the thought of fucking Jared's sloppy seconds turned him on.
And okay, fuck that. Fuck. That.
Jared had been interested, and he'd pursued me, and I'd spread my legs because I was lonely and miserable and desperate for someone to touch me, someone I knew at least a little better than some anonymous leering top in the back of a club.
We had a thing for a while, but it had been over for a few weeks before he ended up dead without a mark on him in a field a couple of miles outside of town.
I'd finally decided I was worth more than that.
Not that Lucian knew that, of course. I was pretty sure he thought we were still together, for a certain value of together, when Jared died, and that was why he blamed me.
He thought Jared had been going to see me when whatever killed him caught up to him outside of the pack territory.
But I wasn't Jared's grieving widower, or whatever.
And I hadn't belonged to Jared — Jared never wanted me to, for one thing, even though he'd been pissed as hell when I broke it off.
I was me, not someone else's leftovers, and Lucian was Lucian, not just Jared's cousin, and I was not going to be anyone's second — or default — choice, ever again.
"Lie down on the bed, on your back," I said. Firmly.
With intent.
Lucian stared at me in angry confusion. "What?"
"On. Your. Back." I sat up and scooted to the side, waving my hand at the center of the bed.
He didn't move.
"Seriously. Do it, or I'm taking a shower, and having my goddamn coffee, and you can stick your knot in a fucking hole in the ground for all I care."
Eyeing me warily, Lucian slowly shifted over and laid back, his hands twitching awkwardly at his sides.
Despite everything, his cock stood proud and tall, flushed deep crimson at the head.
My gaze zeroed in on it. I couldn't help it. It was the most eye-catching thing in the room, and fuuuck, it was big.
I swung a leg over and straddled him, staring down at it.
I could handle it.
I could handle Lucian.
And fuck his alpha bullshit, I was going to make him beg.