Chapter Fourty Three

Chapter Fourty Three
Grey shoved Oliver back against the couch, his body a wall of muscle and heat pressing down, pinning him firmly into the cushions. His knee forced its way between Oliver’s thighs, spreading them wide with unyielding pressure, exposing the bulge straining against the fabric of Oliver’s pants. That thick length throbbed visibly, a dark wet spot blooming where precome soaked through, and Grey’s hand covered it roughly, palming the hard ridge with firm squeezes that dragged a choked moan from Oliver’s throat. The sound vibrated straight to Grey’s own cock, making it twitch and harden further in his jeans, aching for friction.

“Mine,” Grey snarled, his voice a low rumble that echoed with the wolf inside him, fangs lengthening as the beast clawed closer to the surface, sharpening his senses to the scent of Oliver’s arousal—musky and sweet, filling the air like an aphrodisiac. He didn’t waste time; his fingers hooked into the zipper of Oliver’s pants and yanked it down with a sharp rip, the sound mingling with Oliver’s gasp. The pants parted, and Grey shoved them aside, freeing Oliver’s cock—hot, rigid, veins pulsing under velvet skin, the tip slick and flushed. It sprang up against Oliver’s stomach, and Grey wrapped his fist around the base, squeezing just enough to feel the heat radiate into his palm.

One long stroke from root to tip, his grip tight, then another, slower this time, twisting slightly at the head. His thumb circled the weeping slit, smearing the precome in glossy circles that made Oliver buck his hips, a desperate gasp escaping his lips as his body arched off the couch. Fuck! Did he get more and more experienced?

Heck, that wasn't the point. The point was that Oliver had dispersed the magic out of his bloodstream, yet his pheromones were still leaking out, getting entangled with Grey's pheromones. Just a touch from him felt like his whole body was on fire.

Grey’s eyes locked on Oliver’s face, drinking in the flush creeping up his neck, the way his lips parted on ragged breaths. The mate bond hummed between them, turning every twitch of Oliver’s cock into a spark that shot through Grey’s veins, heightening his own need until his balls drew tight.

Grey’s mouth descended without warning, tongue flicking out to trace a scorching path down Oliver’s chest, lapping at the salt of his skin. He paused at each nipple, peaked and begging, teeth grazing the sensitive bud before nipping sharply—enough to sting, enough to make Oliver hiss and writhe beneath him. Lower still, Grey’s lips brushed the trail of little hair leading down, his breath ghosting over Oliver’s cock before he opened wide and took him in. No teasing buildup; he swallowed to the hilt in one deep plunge, throat relaxing around the girth, muscles contracting in rhythmic swallows that milked Oliver from base to tip.

The mate bond exploded with sensation—every suck pulled a wave of electric ecstasy through both of them, Oliver’s pleasure rebounding into Grey like a live current, making his own cock leak steadily into his underwear. Oliver’s hands flew to Grey’s hair, fingers tangling and pulling hard as his hips jerked upward, fucking into the wet clamp of Grey’s mouth.

But Grey pulled off abruptly, the wet pop echoing in the room, strings of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening head. He smirked up at Oliver’s desperate whine, the sound raw and needy, Oliver’s cock bobbing untouched, slick and red. “Not yet,” Grey rasped, voice thick with command. His hands gripped Oliver’s hips, wolf strength surging as he flipped him over effortlessly, manhandling him like he weighed nothing. Oliver landed on his knees, ass up on the couch, cheeks presented high. Grey’s callused palms spread them wide, thumbs digging into the firm flesh to expose the tight pucker—clenching and unclenching, already glistening with arousal that trailed down his thighs.

It begged for him, pink and vulnerable, and Grey spat directly onto it, watching the saliva mix with Oliver’s natural slickness, dripping down the cleft. He dove in without hesitation, tongue flat and broad as it lapped from balls to hole, then speared deep, thrusting inside with filthy, insistent laps. Oliver sobbed into the cushions, body shuddering as Grey rimmed him open, tongue fucking in and out, circling the rim before plunging again. He ate him out like a starving man, nose buried in the crease, hands kneading Oliver’s ass to keep him spread, feeling the muscles flutter and yield under his assault.

The bond thrummed louder now, every flick of Grey’s tongue echoing back as phantom pleasure in his own body—his hole twitching in sympathy, cock dripping precome onto the floor in heavy beads. Oliver pushed back shamelessly, grinding against Grey’s face, moans muffled but escalating into broken cries. “Please—Grey, more,” he begged, voice wrecked, hips circling to chase the wet heat invading him.

Grey couldn’t wait any longer; the need clawed at him, wolf howling for completion. He reared up on his knees, shedding his own pants in a frantic shove, his cock springing free—thick, curved, veins ridged and pulsing, the head blunt and slick. He gripped the base, lining up with Oliver’s entrance, the tip nudging the loosened ring, ready to thrust home and claim what was his.

Oliver laughed then—sudden, dark, and triumphant, the sound cutting through the haze of lust like a blade. In a blur of supernatural speed, he twisted free from Grey’s hold, muscles coiling with power as he flipped their positions. Grey hit the couch on his back with a grunt, the cushions compressing under his weight, and Oliver straddled his waist with predatory grace, knees pinning Grey’s hips down, hands slamming his shoulders into the fabric to hold him there.

“What made you think I want to be the bottom?” Oliver whispered, his breath hot and teasing against Grey’s ear, lips brushing the lobe as his hard cock slid deliberately between Grey’s abs, leaving a trail of precome on the taut skin. The length dragged slowly and heavily, the heat of it searing, tip catching on the ridges of muscle.

Grey’s eyes flashed gold; the wolf was in protest deep in his chest. “No, that isn....”

Oliver threw his head back and laughed—rich, delighted, the sound vibrating through the mate bond like liquid sin, sending shivers down Grey’s spine despite his protest. Oliver’s hands caught Grey’s wrists, slamming them above his head and holding them pinned with surprising strength, his body leaning in close, chest to chest, the press of their skin igniting sparks. “Relax, Alpha,” he murmured, voice a silken taunt laced with lust, eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger. “I said I’d be the top... but in a different way.”

Before Grey could say a retort, Oliver shifted his hips, reaching between them with one hand. He gathered spit on his fingers, mixing it with the precome leaking from his own cock, then slicked his entrance—circling the tight ring, pushing two digits inside himself to prepare, groaning at the stretch. Grey watched, transfixed and furious, his cock jerking at the sight, but the bond betrayed him, flooding his mind with the echo of Oliver’s pleasure—the burn, the fullness. Oliver withdrew his fingers, positioning himself over Grey’s length, the blunt head nudging his hole.

Then he sank down in one fluid, torturous drop. Inch by burning inch, Oliver took him, walls clenching like velvet fire around Grey’s girth, stretching to accommodate the thickness. Grey’s breath hitched, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as the heat enveloped him, tight and unrelenting. Oliver didn’t stop until he was seated fully, hips flush against Grey’s waist, Grey’s cock buried to the hilt inside him. The bond detonated then, pleasure ripping through them both like a storm—Oliver’s inner muscles rippling around Grey, every quiver rebounding as if Grey’s own ass were being filled, the dual sensation making his vision blur.

“Fuck—Ollie—” Grey’s protests shattered into raw sound, his back arching off the couch as Oliver began to move. He rode him hard, rolling his hips in a brutal grind, lifting up until just the head remained inside, then slamming down to take every inch again. His hands braced on Grey’s chest for leverage, nails digging into the firm pecs, leaving red trails that stung and heightened the fire. Oliver’s cock bounced heavily and leaking between them, slapping against Grey’s stomach with each rise and fall, precome smearing across the skin in sticky patterns.

Grey’s wrists strained against Oliver’s hold, but the pleasure weakened his fight, hips thrusting up instinctively to meet the descent, driving deeper. Oliver controlled it all—the depth, the pace—setting a rhythm that had the couch creaking beneath them, springs protesting the force. He leaned forward, capturing Grey’s mouth in a messy kiss, teeth clashing as tongues dueled, Oliver’s hips never slowing. The grind turned circular, Oliver’s ass clenching deliberately around Grey’s length, twisting to hit every sensitive spot inside him.

“Not Oliver,” Oliver growled against Grey’s lips, eyes feral and dark, pupils blown wide with need. He picked up speed, bouncing faster now, thighs flexing with each lift, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside their mingled groans. Grey’s free hands—finally breaking loose—gripped Oliver’s ass cheeks, fingers sinking into the muscle to spread him wider, thumbs brushing the stretched rim where they joined. He thrust up harder, matching the brutal pace, but Oliver owned it, chasing his peak with shameless rolls that ground his prostate against Grey’s cockhead.

Sweat slicked their bodies, dripping down Oliver’s back as he rode, chest heaving with pants. The bond amplified everything—the drag of Grey’s veins against Oliver’s walls, the slap of Oliver’s balls against Grey’s base, the way Oliver’s cock wept steadily, painting Grey’s abs. Grey’s wolf howled inside, not in defeat but in ecstasy, the submission twisting into something fiercer, the connection deepening with every plunge. Oliver’s hand snaked down, wrapping around his own length, stroking in time with his rides—fist pumping fast, thumb swiping the slit to spread the slickness.

Grey felt it all through the bond: the building pressure in Oliver’s gut, the coil tightening, mirroring his own. “Ollie—gonna—” he rasped, voice breaking as Oliver clenched down hard, riding through the warning. The pace turned punishing, Oliver’s hips snapping down with force that jarred Grey’s teeth, ass swallowing him whole each time. Nails raked down Grey’s sides, drawing thin lines of blood that Oliver licked at, fangs grazing the skin.

Oliver’s rhythm stuttered, breaths coming in sharp gasps as he neared the edge. “Cum for me, Alpha—fill me up,” he demanded, voice husky and commanding, leaning back to change the angle, taking Grey deeper. His free hand pinched Grey’s nipple, twisting sharply, the pain spiking the pleasure higher. Grey broke first, the bond shattering the last of his control. He roared, hips bucking wildly as he spilled deep inside, cock pulsing with thick ropes of cum, his knot swelling at the base—locking them together mid-thrust, stretching Oliver further, the bulge pressing against his walls.

Oliver clenched around the knot, milking every hot pulse, the fullness pushing him over. He came with a shattered cry, hand blurring on his cock as hot ropes painted Grey’s chest—splattering across pecs, collarbone, even his throat. The bond fused them in white-hot ecstasy, waves crashing through both, bodies shuddering in unison. Oliver collapsed forward, still impaled and knotted, nuzzling into Grey’s neck as aftershocks rippled, their hearts pounding in sync.

The knot held them locked for long minutes, Oliver’s walls fluttering around it, drawing out residual twitches from Grey’s cock. He rocked gently, grinding to prolong the sensation, whispering taunts into Grey’s ear. “See? You love it when I take charge.” Grey growled softly, hands stroking Oliver’s back, the anger faded into sated warmth. The bond pulsed contentedly, their scents mingling—cum, sweat, possession—as they caught their breath, already stirring for more.