by Peyton Bogue
Everything Rhys does only heightens Sage's arousal—the feel of Rhys’s own thick shaft nudging just below Sage's backside, the way Rhys is gripping his thighs like he can’t help himself, the heat of his body caging Sage in and making him ache with anticipation, and the muscles of Rhys's arms flexing in a show of strength as he just continues to hold Sage against the wall as if Sage weighs nothing, making low, pleased noises in his throat that make Sage tremble. Rhys is so goddamn beautiful, and Sage feels like he’s going to explode as his blood turns molten.
Rhys groans when Sage moves his hips again, increasing the friction between their bodies. He sucks at Sage’s throat again, careful not to leave a mark, and trails his teeth up the long expanse of Sage’s neck. Sage whimpers at the feel of Rhys’s teeth, exhaling sharply. Rhys moves to nuzzle at the sensitive spot underneath Sage’s ear, and when he bites on it tenderly, Sage makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat, his fingers tightening on Rhys’s shoulders as he’s overcome with arousal.
“Rhys,” he says breathily, his voice low, heavy with want and desire.
The sound of his voice, deep with lust, has Rhys groaning again, and he can’t help but to thrust up against Sage’s ass, unable to hold back his own arousal.
Sage’s heart flutters with anticipation, his need for Rhys steadfast and hot in his veins. He wants Rhys’s hands all over him. He aches to feel Rhys pressed intimately against him.
Sage digs his fingers into Rhys’s shoulders, not hard enough to even remotely hurt him, but forceful enough so that Rhys pulls away from his neck quickly, staring up into Sage’s eyes. The glisten in Rhys’s eyes when Sage looks down to meet his gaze sends another wave of heat to pool between Sage’s legs. He bites back a whimper, feeling his cheeks begin to darken and his heartbeat pound heavily in his ears at Rhys’s heated look.
Rhys’s eyes are Alpha red, but they’re dilated black with desire as he meets Sage’s gaze. Sage looks down at his mouth, sees the cherry red of Rhys’s lips slightly swollen from their kissing, and blushes deeper. Rhys looks so beautiful like this, staring up into Sage’s eyes heatedly, as if he’s aching to get his mouth back on Sage right now.
“Rhys,” Sage tries again, his throat tight as he continues to pant. He squeezes at the skin of Rhys’s shoulders, moving his hands up the back of Rhys’s neck so he can bury his fingers in Rhys’s hair, gently tugging on the dark locks. Rhys growls, tightening his grip on Sage’s thighs, and then he’s pulling away from the wall quickly and setting Sage down on top of the bathroom counter. Rhys moves right up against him, pushing his hips down against Sage’s. Sage groans, his own hips snapping up to meet Rhys’s as he stares up at him wantonly, trying to convey everything he wants with his eyes when he can’t make himself form the words. Rhys’s hands move to Sage’s hips, then he runs his fingers up Sage’s torso, over his muscular abdomen, and brings the cotton long sleeve Sage is still wearing up with him as he trails his hands up Sage’s chest.
Rhys pulls the long sleeve off of Sage's arms impatiently, throwing it out of the way when Sage is finally free of it, his lips immediately latching onto Sage’s neck. Sage whimpers, his hips thrusting up again as he moves his hands to Rhys’s waist, tugging him closer. Rhys grinds against him, groaning.
Sage tugs at Rhys’s waistband, pulling at Rhys's sweatpants until he’s able to sink his fingers beneath the elastic, hooking his thumbs into the soft cloth and pulling it down. Rhys doesn’t move back to help him, too distracted by biting at the sensitive spot underneath Sage’s ear, but he groans lowly when he’s finally free of his sweatpants and his shaft slaps against his abdomen.
Sage doesn’t have time to push the sweatpants any further down than just below the curve of Rhys’s ass before Rhys is pulling away from his neck and bringing their lips together again, licking into Sage’s mouth hotly as he grabs at Sage’s hips. Sage whimpers again, his hips bucking forward to bring their pelvises together as his body thrums with heat. Rhys pulls at the waistband of the basketball shorts Sage is wearing, and Sage just barely lifts his ass off of the counter to help Rhys take them off before Rhys literally tears them off of his hips and throws them in the direction of Sage's long sleeve, peeling off Sage's briefs in much of the same fashion and already moving so he can place his hand around Sage’s shaft.
Sage moans brokenly at the feel of Rhys’s hand on him, moving his own hands to pull Rhys towards him needily, desperate to have Rhys closer, to feel every inch of him.
“Please,” Sage breathes out shakily, his entire body trembling with arousal. Rhys growls again, his hand tightening around Sage as he increases his pace, his red eyes burning into Sage’s as he breathes heavily and pants. Sage shudders beneath him, his breath hitching. He pushes up into Rhys’s fist, moving his head so he can run his lips over the shell of Rhys’s ear and bites down on it when Rhys moans. “I want you,” Sage whispers into his ear, and Rhys growls again, moving his hand off of Sage so he can grip at Sage’s muscular thighs again, lifting Sage up into the air once more.
Sage’s back collides with the wall again, and he exhales a moan when he realizes that Rhys is holding him up with only one hand, the other one moving in between Sage’s body and the wall, where a slicked finger presses against him, and then Sage is choking off another whimper. They’ve got a bottle of lube hidden in one of their drawers in the bathroom, but Sage is so caught up in his arousal that he doesn’t even know when Rhys had the time to grab it.
Sage wraps his arms around Rhys’s neck again, trying to lift himself up so that Rhys isn’t taking all of his weight, and he groans when Rhys strokes his finger over his center, exhaling sharply as Rhys spreads the lube over him.
“Don’t need that,” Sage chokes out, trying not to whimper needily. “Need you.”
Rhys growls lowly at his words, shaking his head as he buries his face into Sage’s throat. He gently pushes his finger in, curling it up almost immediately. Sage moans at the feel of him, even as he slightly huffs exasperatedly at Rhys’s unwillingness to bring him any sort of discomfort. He should have known that Rhys would have been insistent on prepping him as thoroughly as possible. He never wants to hurt Sage. Rhys knows that he’s. . .endowed. The last thing he wants to do is rush through this and end up causing Sage pain.
Sage clenches around Rhys, shoving his hips down, and Rhys pulls his finger out quickly and pushes back in with a second one a moment later. Sage groans at the stretch, arching his back needily. Rhys pushes into his knuckles before Sage exhales a tad sharply, and Rhys slows his movements a little. He lets Sage adjust, slowing moving in small increments, before Sage nods, and then Rhys increases his pace, curling the digits up.
They’re both panting heavily, and after Rhys continues his onslaught for another few minutes, rubbing his fingers almost teasingly, Sage throws his head back and looks down at Rhys with half hooded eyes, moaning pleadingly, “Rhys.” A low noise sounds in Rhys’s throat at the plea, and he removes his fingers quickly and leans back, somehow uncapping the lube with one hand and gets the rest of his fingers wet before he throws the bottle back onto the bathroom counter. Sage groans at the sight of Rhys slicking himself up before Rhys braces his hand back against Sage’s thigh and gently presses himself against Sage’s center, burying his face into Sage’s throat once more.
Sage groans deeply when Rhys pushes in slightly, overwhelmed by the sensation. Rhys definitely isn’t small, and the angle he’s pushing in at has Sage’s limbs seizing up immediately. He probably should have let Rhys open him up more, but the feel of them pressed together so intimately just makes arousal coil in his stomach, and he rubs at the tendons of Rhys’s neck again softly, encouraging him to keep going, letting his head fall back against the wall again.
Rhys pulls his face out of Sage’s neck, looking up at him heatedly when Sage whimpers lowly in his throat, and he moves his hands so that he’s gripping Sage’s waist, changing the angle of his hips. He keens his pelvis slightly, almost vibrating with the need to feel Sage fall apart ar
ound him, his entire body aching with heat.
Sage gasps when Rhys is fully sheathed, his eyes rolling back into his head in pleasure. His head is spinning with arousal, lost in the feel of their bodies moving together as waves of heat wash over him.
It’s quiet for a moment, and both of them gaze into each other’s eyes—Rhys staring up at him while Sage meets him with a half-hooded gaze from where his head is still thrown back against the wall—when Rhys pulls his hips back a little before he thrusts in again, snapping back into Sage, and they both moan deeply at the sensation.
“Sage,” Rhys says, and Sage whimpers at the desire in his voice.
Sage’s body trembles from the force of his need for Rhys, and he shoves his pelvis down to meet Rhys’s, unconsciously clenching around him as they both move against each other, and Rhys growls loudly, his Alpha red eyes bleeding a shade darker.
It feels charged between them, like every movement of Rhys inside him sets all of Sage's nerve endings on fire. He’s desperate for more, writhing against the wall as Rhys thrusts up into him again. His need for Rhys is heavy in his veins, rushing through him until he feels as if he’s drowning in molten fire.
Everything just leaves Sage's mind then—their werewolf problem, he and Rhys's fight, Rhys’s jealousy over Hazel, the dull ache of his bullet graze, the thought of going back into work tomorrow when he wants nothing more than to curl up into Rhys’s arms and stay there forever—as he completely narrows in on Rhys, on the feel of Rhys pressed so deeply and intimate against him.
Rhys’s hands run up the sides of his ribs, and he wraps one of his muscular arms around Sage’s wide shoulders and places his other hand on the base of Sage’s neck. Sage leans forward to meet him, tightening his arms around Rhys’s neck. Rhys moves them from the wall abruptly, stopping the movements of his hips, and Sage gasps as Rhys carries him out of their bathroom, still buried to the hilt, and scrambles to move his arms more firmly around Rhys’s neck and tightens his legs around Rhys’s waist.
Rhys moves his arm from around Sage’s shoulders down further to Sage’s back so he can splay his fingers in the middle of Sage’s shoulder blades before he gently lays Sage down onto their unmade bed. He’s breathing heavily, a flush high on his cheeks, and he looks so breathtakingly gorgeous. He crouches over Sage, keening his hips forward slowly, and Sage groans, arching his back.
A sheen of sweat and perspiration covers Sage’s neck and down to his chest as it gathers slightly at the hollow of his throat, and Rhys leans down to lick at it, grinding his pelvis down again. Sage gasps when Rhys shifts inside of him again, trying to hold back a whimper as another wave of heat hits him, and his arousal leaks onto his sweaty abdomen obscenely.
Sage releases his hold on Rhys’s neck, but slips his hands down to grasp at Rhys’s shoulders to gently push at him, and Rhys looks up quickly, his red eyes quizzical. Sage doesn’t elaborate, too busy trying not to fall apart when Rhys presses deeper inside of him again, and leans up a little, still pushing at Rhys’s shoulders. Rhys goes along with him when he realizes that Sage isn’t trying to push him off, his hands coming to rest on Sage’s hips as he falls back against the headboard. Sage settles on top of him, straddling Rhys’s waist and whimpers when Rhys twitches and shifts of inside him.
“Like this,” he pants, shoving his pelvis down, and Rhys gasps as his head smacks back against the headboard like it had against the bathroom wall. He looks up at Sage with reverence, and the glint in his eyes has Sage moaning again.
“Sage,” Rhys groans, his hands tightening on Sage’s hips as Sage grinds down again, and they both moan as the angle of Sage’s hips makes him clench around Rhys’s shaft.
Sage’s blush has spread down his chest now, and he gazes down at Rhys with a shy look even though his eyes are blown wide with lust and he’s panting heavily as he keeps working himself down over Rhys’s shaft. He’s always so shy, even now after years of being together, as if he doesn’t know how sexy Rhys thinks he is, or how beautiful he looks when he throws his head back and whimpers Rhys’s name. As if he’s not the one who practically flipped them over just so he could straddle Rhys and climb on top of him.
Rhys is writhing underneath him though, groaning as Sage rocks on his knees, taking him in further. Sage's eyelashes flutter when Rhys’s shaft twitches again, and he exhales a high pitched moan. Rhys keeps his right hand on Sage’s hip as he drags his other hand up the right side of Sage’s chest, circling around his nipple, which earns him a whimper, before he continues up along the side of Sage’s collarbone, finally stopping when he shifts his body further up towards the headboard so he can slip his hand into Sage’s hair. He tugs on the short locks, and Sage’s eyes snap to his, needy and wanton. He shifts, leaning his weight forward a little, and then he’s thrusting down harder, faster, and Rhys can’t handle it.
He groans loudly, a low growl in his throat, and Sage shudders at the sound of it, throwing his head back once more as he arches his back sinuously. Rhys moans, leaning up further so he can mouth at the open space of Sage’s throat, and Sage’s thighs tighten around him, clinging to his waist as he clenches around Rhys, and Rhys’s wolf howls at the spark of heat it sends through him.
He feels the sudden urge to bite down against the soft skin of Sage’s throat, and the thought of it makes his wolf preen. Rhys's mind is clouded with want and desire, completely lost in the feel of Sage wrapped around him and the scent of his arousal, and all he wants to do is just bite down, his wolf practically howling at him to claim.
Sage is driving him crazy, and Rhys can’t take it.
He pulls himself away from Sage’s neck abruptly, shaking his head as he presses a dirty kiss to Sage’s lips, moaning when Sage clenches around him again. Sage shifts his hips, and he moans when Rhys presses deeper into him again, but even Rhys can tell that he wants more, that he needs Rhys to bring him over the edge he’s struggling along.
Rhys quickly moves his hands to Sage’s hips again, and before Sage can blink, Rhys gently flips them and lightly pushes Sage down into the mattress, his arms bracketing Sage’s body as he hovers over him, gazing down at Sage lustfully like he’s the most gorgeous human Rhys has ever seen.
Rhys is somehow still inside of him, and when he thrusts down deep into Sage again, heat lurches in Sage’s abdomen, and Sage whimpers needily underneath him, his fingers pressing into Rhys’s face so he can pull Rhys down to bring their lips together. Rhys thrusts into him again, and Sage’s breath stutters in his chest, his head falling back again as his back arches in pleasure. Rhys buries his face in Sage’s throat once more, growling into his ear as every sensual thrust pushes him closer to that edge, and Sage can’t even think anymore. The feel of Rhys deep inside of him completely envelops him as thrill after thrill of white hot pleasure courses down his spine.
Rhys is so beautiful like this, holding Sage down and making love to him as if he’s desperate for it, and Sage cries out, unable to keep himself quiet.
“Rhys—” he tries to get out, his breath hitching. He’s so worked up he can’t even find his voice. “Rhys.”
Rhys growls into Sage's neck, his lips latching onto Sage’s scent gland, where his arousal tastes so sweet in Rhys’s mouth. He is overcome with the urge to bite down again, and his canine fangs elongate helpfully, the encouragement from his wolf heating his blood and spurring his desire.
Sage whimpers loudly, his blunt nails digging into Rhys’s shoulders as he shudders. Rhys tries to pull back, slowing his movements, because what the hell is happening to him? He’s buried to the hilt inside the person he loves most in this world, and all he can think about is biting him. About claiming him. In the three years they’ve been together, Rhys has never thought about biting Sage, about sinking his teeth into Sage’s scent gland, but the thought of it now floods through him and seizes his chest in retribution.
Sage makes a noise of displeasure when Rhys stalls his hips, and he shoves his pelvis up to encourage Rhys to move, and he wraps his hands compl
etely around Rhys’s neck, winding his fingers into Rhys’s hair, and pulls him down. Rhys’s face presses in even closer to Sage’s scent gland, and he feels his own throat tighten in warning from the temptation that Sage is unknowingly bestowing on him.
Rhys can’t help himself. He can’t handle the way Sage’s tight heat clenches around him again, or the way Sage is panting heavily, his neck bared against the mattress. Rhys keens his hips forward, thrusting deep into Sage, and it takes every ounce of his rapidly dwindling self-control not to sink his teeth into Sage’s neck, to not chase after that sweet taste as he closes his mouth completely, refusing to let his canines slip out.
Rhys slaps his hand out towards the headboard, desperate to keep himself under control as Sage writhes beneath him. His hand closes around their wooden headboard, and he grips at it tightly again as Sage groans, “Rhys.”
Sage’s entire body tenses abruptly as his legs tremble around Rhys’s waist and he clenches around Rhys's shaft again, digging his blunt nails hotly down into Rhys’s shoulder blades. He moans brokenly, whimpering as he falls over the edge, painting his abdomen in white.
The smell of him drives Rhys wild, and the arousal thrumming through Rhys's veins coils in his stomach, and he thrusts into Sage once, twice more before he chases after his own release deep inside of Sage, groaning around the canine fangs in his mouth as his entire body shakes with his desire to bite down into Sage’s throat, and Sage just runs his hands through Rhys’s hair soothingly, panting.
The headboard creaks under Rhys’s hand warningly, and he leans forward in surprise when the wood gives way beneath his fingertips. He looks towards his hand with a frown, only to see that he’s gripping a pretty huge broken-off chunk of their headboard in his left hand.