Chapter 46 Garrett
Garrett
My hands slid under his shirt without thinking, palms flattening against warm skin. Solid. Tense. I shoved the fabric up and over his head, needing it gone. He let me.
The sight of him hit harder than it should have. Broad shoulders. Sharp lines. Strength everywhere. My brain, traitor that it was, flashed images of other people looking at him. Max, James, girls from the academy… Even Aitor.
I didn’t fucking like that. Not even a little.
I grabbed his hips and dragged him into me, harder than necessary. He grunted softly from the impact, pulling back just enough to look at me.
His fingers came up, gripping my chin with a smile.
“Relax,” he said low. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I moved his hand away. I didn’t want reassurance. I wanted him. “Oh, just stop talking and kiss me, lion.”
He did without any hesitation. His mouth crashed into mine, dominant and demanding, exactly how I needed it.
Then his hands slid down my sides, slowly this time, dragging goosebumps in their way down. When they dipped behind me, squeezing my butt hard, I sucked in a sharp breath I couldn’t swallow back. The sound I made was needy and almost embarrassing, but that’s how he made me feel—unfiltered, real.
He noticed. Of course he did.
His mouth left mine and moved up my jaw, teeth grazing skin before he leaned close to my ear.
“Get on your knees for me,” he said quietly.
Not a joke. Not playful.
A command.
My throat went dry, and I could hear the click as I swallowed. This was new territory. I was always the one in control, the one calling the shots, the one getting my dick sucked. Giving that up… it felt like a freefall.
He must have seen the war in my eyes, the hesitation. He took a sudden step back, his own confidence shattering. "We don't have to if—"
But the shadows were already creeping in at the edges of my vision, that old, familiar swarm. "No," I snarled, cutting him off. I wanted this. God, I really wanted this—to have him in my mouth, taste him, lick him, suck him dry…
I dropped to my knees eagerly, the impact of them hitting the hard tile echoing in the room. A sharp, jarring pain shot up my legs, but I didn't care. I'd deal with the bruises tomorrow.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, pointing right at my face. The last time, in the dark of his room, I couldn't really look. Now I could. It was gorgeous. Thick and hard, with a pair of pulsing veins that traced a path up the shaft. A single drop of pre-cum pearled at the tip. I didn't wait. I leaned in and took him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I went. The taste of his clean skin made my eyes roll back.
Aslan’s knees buckled. "Oh, fuck… You gotta stop—"
I reluctantly pulled off, my own cock burning with need as my lips ached to taste him again. I looked up at him, waiting. For a second, he looked almost embarrassed, a small, soft smile on his face that made something in my chest loosen.
"Sorry. You’re so amazing at this that I—I was getting so close," he breathed out. "I didn't want it to end yet."
I smirked. "Really? You were?" I leaned in and dragged the flat of my tongue from his base all the way to his tip in one slow, deliberate lick.
His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to scowl. "Oh, God—just get back to sucking, wolf."
I let him catch his breath, though, moving lower and taking his sack into my mouth. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, while I took my time rolling my tongue around it before sucking gently. I breathed in his musky scent, letting it fill my lungs.
I was so goddamn addicted to him… I could get drunk on his taste alone, high on his scent. I never wanted to stop.
I let my hand trail up the inside of his thigh, my fingers finding the sensitive spot just behind his balls, and I started to massage it.
He jolted. "Wait, wait… I'm not sure about back there—"
I didn't pull away. Instead, I released his balls with a slick, audible sound and looked up at him from under my lashes. "How's that feel?" I murmured, my voice a low rumble.
His face was a mess of confusion and pleasure, his brow scrunched tight. "It's… not bad," he finally managed to get out.
A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. My fingers didn't stop their journey. They crept higher, sliding into the heat between his cheeks until the very tip of one pressed against the tight pucker of his hole. A sound tore out of him then—not a moan, but a deep, guttural groan that vibrated through his entire body.
"Holy shit. Oh, fuck yeah, little wolf. Right there. Don't stop."
I brought my finger up, making a show of sucking it into my own mouth, getting it as wet as I could. When I returned it to his entrance, I traced the tight muscle, circling it with my slick fingertip.
"Oh, fuck," he gasped, his head falling back against the back of the couch. "I never thought I could..."
"Do this?” I asked, wondering if he’d ever been with another guy.
His voice broke on a gasp. “Like it.”
His hips took on a life of their own, rocking forward, his desperate cock searching for any kind of friction. I took him back into my mouth, all the way down, my finger still working his tight hole as he started to lose control and fuck my face in earnest.
"God, Garr," he choked out. "This is—fuck, this is insane."
He paused for a second, his breath hitching. "You're good, right? If this isn't okay, just... just push me away."
It was more than okay. It was everything. He drove into my mouth, the wet, filthy sounds of it echoing off the tiles. My own cock was a steel rod in my pants, so hard it hurt, and I could feel my orgasm already coiling in my spine, threatening to make me embarrass myself.
"Fuck. Your mouth is... Jesus. You're such a perfect, dirty wolf. Oh, God, I'm gonna lose it. Open up. Stick your tongue out for me," he panted, the words slurring together as his eyes rolled back in his head.
I pulled off him just enough to free my own aching dick, wrapping my hand around it and stroking hard and fast. I tilted my head back and stuck out my tongue, waiting. The second the first hot splash of his cum hit my tongue, my own orgasm ripped through me. I came all over the floor with a guttural groan while he kept stroking himself, painting my tongue, my chin, and my goddamn nose with his load.
When we were both spent, he slid down the couch until we were both on the ground, his legs brushing against mine. A goofy, sated smile on his face.
"You're such a beautiful little wolf with my cum on your face," he whispered.
My brain was already offline, buzzing in a peaceful haze, but his words short-circuited what was left of it. I felt weightless, untethered from the world. I couldn't have moved if I tried. I just knelt there, boneless and blissed out.
He grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. I heard the faucet squeak, the rush of water, and then he was kneeling in front of me again. He had another warm, wet washcloth and began wiping my face clean for the second time that evening, his movements incredibly gentle, his eyes locked on mine the entire time. Normally, that kind of softness would have had me running for the hills. Not now. I just let him do it. In that moment, I think I would have let him do damn near anything to me.
Once he was done, he wiped the floor and tossed the cloth aside, taking my hand and pulling me carefully to my feet. He guided me back down onto the couch, his grip firm and steady. Grabbing Aitor’s throw from the chair, he tucked it around me gently, as if I were a child.
I closed my eyes and just soaked it all in.
The last thing I felt was the warmth spreading through my chest as he leaned down and whispered against my hair, “Rest, little wolf.”
I fell asleep holding his hand, wishing that this night would never end.
But it did.