Sharpened Claws: A Gay Werewolf Romance

by Peyton Bogue

  The meal is great as always. Rhys is an amazing cook. He’s taught Sage many cooking tips over the years they’ve been together, even more so after they’d moved in together, which Sage greatly appreciates. Before meeting Rhys, Sage had been the kind of guy who ate frozen meals right out of the microwave and takeout every other night, too busy and too tried to try to fix himself a good meal after working an exhausting shift at the precinct. Even though he works late hours sometimes, it’s nice to have a good home cooked meal being fixed up for him whenever he walks through the door because Rhys can hear him turn onto their street even through the crowded and noisy neighborhood they live in.

  That part’s good, Sage thinks, but it's even better that he has Rhys to come home to every night.

  Sage used to cook for Rhys on rare nights where he would get home before Rhys did, but after Sage had started a small kitchen fire that resulted in no damage whatsoever, Sage has taken to bringing home their favorite takeout from the Chinese place that’s a block away from their brownstone on the off chance that he gets in before Rhys.

  Rhys had panicked when he’d smelled the remnants of the fire, his entire body taut and defensive, but now he mostly just teases Sage about it whenever it comes up, only after he’d been reassured that Sage was completely fine and had come out unscathed.

  After dinner, Sage washes the dishes with Rhys’s help and cleans the kitchen because he’s a neat freak and Rhys is mostly an animal so he’s kind of messy sometimes before the both of them migrate to their comfy couch so they can wrap around each other and watch crappy T.V. until they get tired. Sage is already beginning to nod off, though, and his eyes start drooping after two episodes of Chopped.

  Rhys has been idly rubbing Sage’s back from where Sage is slumped against him, working the tension and pent up stress out of his shoulders as they watch the show, not really paying attention to anything besides the sounds of Sage’s breathing. When he notices Sage’s breaths evening out though, he smiles, running a hand up Sage’s back so he can tangle his fingers into Sage's hair.

  “Are you falling asleep on me?” he asks Sage teasingly, placing a kiss on the top of Sage’s head.

  “No,” Sage mutters, snuggling deeper into Rhys’s chest. He is tired, though, and his eyelids are heavy, but he’s still feeling antsy and worked up like he had been this morning at not having the opportunity to go on his run.

  “Do you want to go to bed?” Rhys asks him, rubbing his fingers over Sage’s scalp.

  Sage buries his head into Rhys’s chest and shakes his head, mumbling, “Not yet,” though it’s muffled from Rhys’s torso.

  Rhys hears him clearly anyway, and chuckles at him, saying softly, “You’re exhausted, Sage.”

  Sage lifts his head and smiles, his eyes tired. “You smell that on me, too?”

  “Yeah, baby,” Rhys chuckles again, nodding.

  Sage raises himself up a little and places a soft kiss on Rhys’s lips, then pulls back and gives Rhys another sleepy smile. “How about now?”

  Rhys makes a show of lifting his head up and sniffing the air loudly, looking down at Sage after a few seconds and proclaiming, “Yep. I can still smell the exhaustion on you.”

  He grins softly, running his thumb over Sage’s cheekbone, but Sage leans forward and kisses him again. He shifts his body so that he’s sitting up more and begins to put more heat behind his kisses. Rhys melts completely beneath him, his arms moving so he can wrap them around Sage’s waist.

  Sage bites down on Rhys’s lower lip, causing a small, animalistic moan to tear itself from Rhys’s throat, and Sage begins working his way down. He bites and kisses his way down Rhys’s neck, fulling moving his body until he's fully straddling Rhys's waist.

  Rhys’s hands run over Sage’s back soothingly, as if he’s still trying to make sure that Sage is taken care of even as Sage kisses him deeply. He works his fingers into Sage’s hair when he moves his hands back up Sage’s body, and on a particularly hard bite to his throat, he’s quickly but gently yanking Sage back up to his mouth and bringing their lips together, swallowing the low moan Sage releases deep inside of his throat.

  Sage cups his hands against Rhys’s jaw, pressing his lips against Rhys’s a tad more forcefully, and Rhys’s hands leave Sage’s hair to rest one on the back of Sage's neck, the other gripping his left hip.

  Sage can feel the way the air has changed between them, charged with the electricity from their kisses. It makes heat curl in his abdomen, and he shifts his hips forward imperceptibly when he feels a thrill run down his spine.

  Rhys releases a small, choked-off sound underneath him, and he runs his tongue over Sage’s bottom lip before biting down softly, and Sage’s breath catches in his throat.

  Sage is still in his work clothes, a soft button down and jeans, but Rhys is wearing sweatpants and a white long sleeve. Sage can feel exactly how much he’s affecting Rhys, and he moves his hips down again into Rhys’s lap to get him groaning.

  Rhys moans deeply, and within seconds, both of his hands are gripping Sage's thighs, encouraging him to grind down harder, groaning hotly in the open space of their living room.

  Sage pulls back from Rhys slightly, and Rhys opens his eyes and blinks confusedly up at him, frowning when Sage continues to lean away from him when he tries to bring their lips together again. Sage smiles teasingly at him and says slowly, “Do I still smell tired?”

  It takes a second for Rhys to process the question before he’s chucking and moving his hands up so he can circle his arms around Sage’s waist, nodding. “You are tired, baby. And you’ve got to be up early in the morning. Are you sure you don’t just want to go to bed?”

  Sage’s heart swells at the amount of love and concern in Rhys’s voice, and he smiles as he says lowly, “I appreciate the offer, Ree, but I’d much rather have you take me to bed.”

  Rhys gets it immediately as he moves his hands down to grab underneath Sage’s muscular thighs, and then Sage is being lifted into the air as if he weighs nothing.

  Sage feels heat pool in his stomach, gasping when Rhys just tilts his head up to catch Sage’s lips with his own.

  Sage loops his arms around Rhys’s neck to help support himself, still slightly concerned that he’s too heavy for Rhys even though he knows that Rhys is beyond strong enough to hold him, and crosses his ankles to rest on Rhys’s lower back as Rhys carries him to their bedroom, his pupils dilated wide with desire.

  When they enter their bedroom, Rhys sits Sage down on top of their bed and climbs on top of him, eyeing him with a heated gaze. The glint in his eyes has Sage feeling hot all over, and he reaches out to grab Rhys’s face, pulling him in. Sage drops his legs from around Rhys’s waist and spreads his thighs so that Rhys can lay between his legs more comfortably, keeping his hands on either side of Rhys’s face before he pulls him down insistently to bring their lips together again.

  Rhys kisses Sage with a desire and passion that makes Sage’s insides ignite, and he can feel the fire all the way down in his bones. It’s hot and heavy, both of them getting steadily worked up at just the exploration of each other’s mouths.

  Rhys moves his head down, mouthing down along Sage’s jaw and neck and sucking right on Sage’s sensitive spot underneath his ear, and Sage groans deeply when Rhys bites down gently. Rhys leans all of his weight on his left hand and runs his right hand up Sage’s chest, stopping at Sage’s clavicle and beginning to unbutton the buttons of his shirt and kissing and mouthing at every new pale strip of skin each button reveals.

  Sage writhes below him, thrusting his hips up off of the bed when Rhys reaches the end of his button down, pushes the two sides out of the way, and begins to mouth over Sage's chest. Sage runs a hand into Rhys’s soft black hair, the insurmountable urge for something to hold onto making his fingers curl against his soft locks.

  Rhys continues to tongue over Sage’s chest. Sage bites down on his lip to try to steel himself, to not get lost in the feel of Rhys on top of him and the feel of Rhys’s
gentle hands just yet as his head spins from the arousal that courses through his veins. His chest has always been one of the most sensitive areas of his body, and he can feel pleasure coil in his stomach as the evidence of his arousal begins to leak into his briefs at the feel of Rhys’s tongue on him.

  “Rhys,” Sage pants, his head thrown back against the pillow. Rhys looks up at him, his normal gray eyes dilated wide with lust, and stares into Sage’s equally blown pupils as he continues his onslaught.

  Sage’s eyes roll back in his head, and he moans a high-pitched whine that Rhys can feel reverberate through his mouth.

  Rhys pulls off a moment later, his mouth a bright cherry red, and makes to move further down, but Sage stops him, putting his hands on Rhys’s face and pulling him back up to bring their lips together again. His hips thrust wantonly off of the bed, and Rhys can’t help but to grind down when Sage bites down on his bottom lip lasciviously.

  Rhys pulls away, thrusting his hips down again, and growls hotly, “You sound so pretty, baby.”

  “Rhys,” Sage whimpers back, his breath hitching when Rhys’s pelvis snaps against his, gasping breathlessly, and Rhys just moans back lowly in response.

  Rhys leans back and rests his weight on his knees before pulling his long sleeve over his head, tugging it off and tossing it somewhere near the direction of their laundry hamper, before he’s leaning back down and attacking Sage’s neck in hot little kisses.

  Rhys always leaves marks on Sage when they're like this, sometimes intentionally but more often unintentionally. Sage thinks it’s because Rhys’s wolf wants to mark him up so that everyone can see that Sage is Rhys’s, for the entire world to see, but Rhys rarely leaves marks that are visible. He tends to favor the insides of Sage’s thighs, all over Sage's navel, or on Sage's collarbones, much to Sage’s continued relief. It’s not very professional for a homicide detective to walk into work covered in love bites, but every time his shirt collar or the denim of his jeans brushes up against a new mark when he’s at work, he flushes deeply and desperately tries to think about anything except Rhys’s mouth on him.

  Sage, on the other hand, leaves very visible bites on Rhys’s neck and body. They disappear almost as quickly as he leaves them, due to Rhys’s enhanced supernatural healing, so Sage never really gets to look at or admire his work. He likes leaving them on Rhys’s neck, though, because it’s proof that Rhys likes to bare his throat to Sage.

  Rhys has told Sage before that he doesn’t like to show submission to anyone because he’s the Alpha, and baring his neck to anyone else when he’s the one at the top of the werewolf hierarchy is an ultimate show of submission that he’s normally not comfortable with. Sage knows enough about how the pack dynamics work to understand that showing submission like that is only ever something an Alpha would do as a show of trust. Rhys likes it when Sage bares his throat for him, but it’s another level of trust for Rhys to do it back. But he does. And quite often.

  Which is just another layer of romantic gestures that Rhys does for him, and each one of them continue to make Sage fall even more in love with him.

  Sage tilts his head back further now so that Rhys has better access to the pale skin of this throat, running his hands up and over the overheated skin of Rhys’s arms to get his hands on Rhys’s shoulders to feel the way his muscles strain. Rhys is so muscular, hard in all the right places. It makes Sage hot all over.

  Rhys also runs incredibly hot, with his body practically giving off heat like a furnace. Rhys isn’t entirely sure why his body temperature is so high, but it's a nice source of heat at night when they’re wrapped around each other, and he’s happy to cuddle up to Sage to keep him warm during those colder winter months. Now, though, the heat from Rhys’s body only adds to Sage’s arousal. The feverish warmth of his skin makes everything that much hotter, and Sage feels safe in Rhys’s arms as his warm embrace pulls Sage deeper into his desire.

  Sage pulls Rhys’s mouth to his again, kissing him deeply before he leans up to run his mouth over Rhys’s neck. Rhys makes quick work of Sage’s button down, pushing it off of his shoulders and down his arms so that Sage can take it off properly, and Sage throws it in the same direction of Rhys’s long sleeve once he’s gotten it off.

  The ache of their arousal burns brightly between them, and Sage is starting to lose his patience.

  “Rhys,” he says breathlessly, unable to catch his breath when he catches sight of the miles of smooth skin in front of him. He desperately reaches out and runs his hand over Rhys’s chiseled navel until he reaches Rhys’s face and leans their foreheads together, panting heavily. Rhys seems to understand what Sage is trying to ask him as he gently moves to lay Sage back down into their bed, settling back between Sage’s legs and shifting his hips down to tantalizingly grind their pelvises together before he works on Sage’s waistband and pops the button of his jeans open.

  As soon as Sage’s jeans and briefs are off, and he’s lying on their bed completely bare, gazing up into Rhys’s eyes, Rhys runs his hand up Sage’s left thigh, inching closer and closer to where Sage wants him most. Sage is trembling with want, his body taut tight with anticipation, and finally, Rhys’s warm hand closes around him, and lips are at his ear as Rhys asks in a low whisper, “Is this what you wanted, baby?”

  His voice is deep and thick with lust, and that, combined with the actual concern and honesty that Rhys is asking him with, has Sage squirming in pleasure, and he nods, moaning, “Yes. God, you feel so good.”

  Rhys smiles another wolfish grin down at Sage before he leans back and repositions himself further down between Sage’s legs. A split second later, he ducks his head down and takes Sage into his mouth in one effortless motion.

  “Rhys,” Sage groans brokenly, his fingers moving to grasp at Rhys’s hair.

  Rhys sucks him down, moaning as Sage’s fingers pull and tug in his hair. Sage feels thick and heavy on his tongue, and Rhys groans around him. The vibrations from his throat make Sage arch off of the bed, and he can feel how he’s steadily leaking into Rhys’s mouth, who just continues to work his tongue around Sage’s shaft sinfully.

  Every little sensation of Rhys's mouth is driving Sage crazy, and he’s gasping out around his hitching breaths before too long.

  Rhys gives one last lick to the head as he pulls back slightly, his arms coming up to hook around Sage’s muscular thighs. He pulls, and Sage’s back falls even flatter against the mattress as his lower body is pulled flush against Rhys's mouth, and it only takes him a second until he realizes what Rhys is after.

  “Rhys,” he moans lowly, his voice deep with arousal, and Rhys glances up at him, a sinful grin on his lips. Rhys moves his hands down to rest his thumbs against Sage’s cleft and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss against the curve of Sage’s skin.

  Sage is aching above him, his entire body flushed red with desire. He pants lightly, his hands coming to rest in Rhys’s hair as his pulse beats erratically in his ears.

  “God, you’re so beautiful, Sage,” Rhys murmurs, his lips caressing Sage’s skin, and Sage flushes scarlet at the compliment.

  Rhys gently digs his thumbs into Sage's skin and pulls, moving down and flicking his tongue out across Sage’s center. He mouths over Sage sensually, and Sage gasps below him, his legs moving to rest over Rhys’s shoulders as a high-pitched moan rips itself from his throat.

  Rhys licks over him again, pressing deeper, and Sage’s entire body shudders at the heat it sends through his abdomen. He closes his eyes, unable to look at Rhys because he knows he’s going to lose it if he sees the way Rhys is working him over, beyond aroused at the way Rhys is mouthing at him as if there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather do. Rhys’s mouth continues to lick at him hotly, pressing even deeper and hotter, as he moves over Sage shamelessly, moaning as his own arousal burns hotly in his veins. Sage’s legs tremblw from their place on Rhys’s shoulders, and he throws his head back in pleasure, writhing as Rhys brings him to the edge.

  “R—Rhys,” S
age moans, arching off of the bed again when Rhys licks all the way up, past Sage’s center and takes Sage's shaft back down his throat. Heat coils in his abdomen, and he groans again. “Baby.” He licks his lips, panting. His voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears. “Rhys.”

  Rhys growls a guttural sound deep in his throat from around Sage’s shaft and then begins to suck harder, desperate to make Sage to fall apart.

  Normally, Sage would lay back and let Rhys work him over for hours, but that’s not what he wants, not what he needs right now.

  “N—No, Ree,” Sage bites out around his hitching breaths. “I need you.”

  Rhys stops sucking abruptly, and Sage gasps when he pulls off despite his previous statements, and Rhys growls, “You're driving me absolutely crazy, Sage.”

  Sage shutters in pleasure at the sound of Rhys’s growl, blushing. He’s not one to be particularly vocal in bed, leaving the sweet talking to Rhys, but Rhys has always been adamant that hearing Sage tell him what he wants always gets him practically writhing with desire.

  Sage always feels bashful telling him, and he flushes even deeper and gets a little breathy as he says, “Please, Rhys. I need you so bad, baby.”

  His words have Rhys’s eyes bleeding that familiar fluorescent red, sending a spark of heat down Sage’s spine, before Rhys is shaking his head and willing his normal, albeit lust-blown, gray irises back and reaching for the lube in their bedside drawer hastily.

  It’s not unusual for Rhys’s eyes to shift whenever they get like this. It’s actually a pretty common occurrence.

  It gets harder for Rhys to control himself when he’s like this, adrenaline and arousal coursing through his body like a live wire as the scent of Sage’s own arousal swirls through his senses, but Sage knows that he tries to keep himself under control because he always thinks that he’s going to freak Sage out or scare him if he shows any signs of his shift, despite what Sage has told him.

  Sage will be the first to admit that the first time Rhys’s eyes had shifted when they were deep into their lovemaking, he hadn’t reacted the best he could have. He’d looked up, seen Rhys’s eyes glow that piercing red, and had gasped and stopped all movement. He hadn’t been scared, just a little bit shocked at the sudden ferocity of Rhys's blood red eyes.