by Peyton Bogue
“Baby,” Rhys says, his voice gentle but slightly hoarse as he moves to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Sage looks into his eyes, taking another deep breath. Rhys is panting, but there’s a concerned edge to his voice as he asks, “Still okay?”
Sage tilts his chin down, nodding, begging without words. “Yes,” he says breathily, but gives in a moment later. “Please,” he begs, swallowing. “Don’t stop. I want you.”
“Sage,” Rhys groans. He crawls up Sage’s body, completely unbothered as the white fluid on Sage’s abdomen catches on his chest as he crashes their lips together once more. Sage moans into his mouth as he arches into Rhys's chest, his body like a live wire of heat and want and desperation. “What do you want, sweetheart?” Rhys asks against Sage’s lips.
“Rhys,” Sage pants when Rhys pulls away to mouth over Sage's throat, breathless. “You. Please. Just you. I need you.”
Rhys’s entire body shudders against Sage’s, and he growls again, twitching in his shorts as he breathes heavily. He lifts his head out of Sage’s neck, panting, and looks into Sage’s eyes heatedly. Sage brings his hand up to run his fingers through Rhys’s hair, and breathes out, “I need you inside me, baby. Please. I want you so bad.”
Rhys’s breath hitches as he groans, a low sound deep in his throat. He nods quickly, pulling back from Sage and quickly ridding himself of his shorts. His shaft springs free, so red and aching, and the sight of him makes Sage’s mouth run dry. God, Sage wants him; he wants every glorious inch of Rhys buried deep inside of him; he wants to claw right into Rhys’s skin until he doesn’t know where he begins and Rhys ends, wants their hearts to beat as one as their souls finally forge together.
His mate. His equal in all things. The one person he can’t ever live without.
Rhys is on him again, his mouth hot against Sage’s. He grabs Sage’s thighs gently, and Sage easily maneuvers both of his legs around Rhys’s waist, wrapping them around Rhys’s back. He’s already desperate again, his need like a fire in his veins, despite his orgasm only minutes before. He can’t hold anything back anymore. His desire for Rhys is heavy in his heart, weighing him down in every inch of his body.
Rhys quickly slicks up one of his fingers, and Sage wants to tell him no, wants to tell Rhys that he’s ready, but Rhys’s finger gently circles against his center, and Sage makes a noise in the back of his throat at the touch, and Rhys swiftly thrusts his finger in before Sage can so much as open his mouth.
Sage gasps at the feel of it, clenching down as Rhys immediately thrusts his finger in deep. Sage is lax enough from Rhys’s tongue that a second finger joins the other inside of him quickly, and Sage moans at the feel of them, at the stretch inside of him, at that dull ache.
Rhys’s fingers curl inside of him, and Sage’s hips twitch as he follows their movements, a whine escaping his throat. “Please,” he gasps brokenly, whining when Rhys curls his fingers again. “Rhys.”
Rhys twists his fingers and scissors them once. Sage moans wantonly and arches his back.
“Sage,” Rhys groans, and when Sage looks at him again, Rhys’s face is flushed red. “One more,” he says breathlessly, and Sage makes a noise, but he feels himself blush at the sound of Rhys’s voice. Rhys is clearly just as affected as he is. “One more, baby. Let me take care of you first. And then I’ll give you what you want.”
Sage groans at Rhys’s words, but he nods, tightening his legs around Rhys’s waist. “Want you,” he replies breathily, running his hand up Rhys’s arm. “I need you so much.”
“God,” Rhys says, his eyes roaming over Sage again. “I need you too, baby. Just a little longer, okay?”
Sage nods again, asking breathlessly, “Are you stalling?”
The digits inside of him brush over his inner walls, and Sage moans as Rhys replies, “Maybe a little.” Sage can’t help but to grin slightly. He’d figured as much. Rhys is clearly a tad nervous about biting him, even though Sage can tell that he’s also incredibly eager.
A third finger joins the ones inside of Sage carefully, and Sage feels himself whimper at the stretch as Rhys thrusts his fingers in deep. “Look at that,” Rhys continues hotly, his eyes roaming over Sage again, and Sage blushes. “I feel like I’m dreaming, sweetheart. You’re so perfect. So beautiful, my pretty baby. I can’t wait to be inside of you.” Sage’s blush deepens as he moans at Rhys’s words, thrusting his hips down to meet Rhys’s fingers. “But I’ve got to take care of you first. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
Sage pants as he writhes against the mattress, nodding, and Rhys growls lowly as Sage clenches down around the fingers inside of him again.
Rhys is incredibly slow as he continues his movements, even as his own breathing is sporadic and heavy, his eyes dark red with desire. His swollen shaft pulses every time Sage whimpers, and when all three of Rhys’s fingers thrust deep inside of him again, Sage throws his head back against the pillow and moans brokenly, his good hand clutching at Rhys’s back as his legs around Rhys’s waist tremble.
Very abruptly, Rhys halts the movement of his hand, and Sage inhales sharply as he glances up, confused by the sudden shift. He’s mildly shocked to find that Rhys looks almost like he’s hyperventilating, his breathing hard and heavy as his red eyes bleed a shade darker. The tip of his canines peak through his cherry red lips, and he backs away quickly, untangling himself from Sage’s body and pulling out his fingers, his muscles stiff.
“What—What’s wrong?” Sage stutters, his voice thick as he works to control his breathing.
Rhys’s eyes are a tad wild as they meet Sage’s, and he runs a hand through his hair shakily, taking a deep breath. His pupils are so dilated that the rim of red is almost nonexistent.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, his voice deep and heady. Sage tries not to shiver. “You, uh—” Another shaky breath. “You bared your neck to me, and my wolf. . .”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at Sage until he shuts his eyes tightly. A moment later, his canines disappear slowly back into his gums, and he opens his eyes slowly.
“I lost control of my wolf for a second. You,” he clears his throat. “You bared your neck to me and it. . .kind of made my wolf a little crazy.”
“Oh,” Sage breathes out, his cheeks flushing. “I—I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, baby,” Rhys says, his breathing heavy. “I got a little carried away.”
“Isn’t that kind of the point?” Sage asks timidly, shifting on the mattress.
“What?” Rhys asks, swallowing.
“I want you to bite me, Rhys,” Sage says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Rhys’s breath hitches again and his shaft twitches against his thigh. He stiffens again, taking a steadying breath.
“I want to bite you, too,” Rhys tells him slowly, his voice heavy with want.
Sage gulps around his dry tongue, inhaling deeply. “Then you have nothing to be worried about, Ree. You don’t have to hold yourself back from me. I want you.” He reaches his good hand out and Rhys gently entwines their hands together, allowing Sage to pull him into his body again. Rhys brushes up against Sage’s center, and Sage gasps lightly, his blush deepening. He exhales slowly, trying not to sound breathless as he continues, “I want. . .I want all of you. Every part. Don’t hold back.”
Rhys exhales sharply as he leans down, bringing both of his hands to rest on either side of Sage’s throat. Slowly, he gives a tentative nod, and then their lips find each other again, and Sage feels Rhys relax completely.
Rhys settles himself between Sage’s legs again, and Sage automatically wraps his legs around Rhys’s waist once more, his body taut in anticipation.
He’s a little nervous now as he remembers what Rhys is going to do to him. The last time canines had bitten into his flesh, it was the worst pain he’d ever felt. He wants Rhys to bite him, wants more than anything for Rhys to complete their bond, but he can’t help the slight apprehensiveness that floods through his body, anxious
as Rhys gently strokes his thumb over Sage’s cheekbone.
Sage looks away, turning his head to the side of his pillow to avoid Rhys's eyes as a sliver of panic begins to seize his chest.
The shift from honey and cinnamon to burnt cardamom hits Rhys like a blow to his face as he tries to catch Sage’s gaze, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gently moves Sage’s head, redirecting his attention back on Rhys. Sage’s eyes are shy and tense as he gazes at Rhys, his breathing quick.
“Are you okay?” Rhys asks gently.
Sage tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out sharp and stuttered. He swallows, running his hand over Rhys’s shoulder to try to ground himself.
“I—I’m nervous,” Sage admits, his blush turning even darker at his embarrassment.
“I’m nervous, too,” Rhys tells him quietly, exhaling slowly. “It’s. . .more intense than I expected.”
Sage nods. He can feel how profound the air is between them, how powerful this moment is.
“We don’t have to do this, baby,” Rhys continues, giving Sage such an honest and open look that Sage’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. “We can wait. We don’t even have to do this at all. I don’t need for you to do this for me, sweetheart. All I need is you.”
Sage knows that Rhys is being genuine, so heartfelt and unassuming. If Sage asked him to stop, if he told Rhys that he didn’t want to do this anymore, he knows that Rhys would immediately. He knows that Rhys would completely accept his decision, wouldn't push him at all, and would be incredibly understanding.
But that’s not what Sage wants. He wants Rhys, wants this. He’s just a little anxious.
“I want you, Rhys,” Sage tells him, giving him a tentative smile. “I want to complete our bond. I’m just. . .nervous. But I don’t want you to stop.”
“Are you sure?” Rhys asks him, apprehensive.
Sage nods. “Yeah, Ree. I want to feel you.”
Rhys continues to look at him hesitantly, but Sage leans his face up and presses their lips together again. He tries to tell Rhys with his body what words aren’t, and he feels it the moment Rhys understands. Rhys relaxes against him, pushing his hips down against Sage’s as he brings their pelvises together tantalizingly. Sage moans at the feel of him, letting himself get lost in the movements of their bodies.
It’s slow for a few moments, both of them moving against the other unhurriedly as they steadily work back towards their frantic pace. Within minutes, Sage digs his fingers into Rhys’s shoulder impatiently, that familiar ache thrumming through him once more, and Rhys growls lowly, pulling away with one last dirty kiss to Sage’s lips.
Rhys looks at him carefully before he finds the discarded tube of lube somewhere off to the right side of Sage’s hips from where he must have tossed it earlier, then slicks himself up with a few strokes as Sage looks up at him heatedly through his eyelashes. He’s clearly just as eager as Sage is, tired of fighting against the desires his body craves, that both of their bodies crave.
Rhys stops for a second, wiping his hand on the sheet before he brings both of his hands up to cup Sage’s face. Their lips collide again, and slowly, Rhys keens his hips forward.
Sage tenses instinctively at the first initial resistance of his muscles as Rhys pushes into him, but he inhales shakily, winding his fingers into Rhys’s hair again, and forces his body to relax.
Immediately, Rhys’s enormous shaft slides into him in one swift motion, as easily as his fingers had. Sage feels his eyes roll back into his head at the fullness, at the feel of Rhys pressed so deeply inside of him. The beautiful stretch as Rhys tentatively pulls his hips back and then thrusts back in makes Sage arch his back needily, pushing his chest up against Rhys’s as he moans wantonly.
One of Rhys’s hands slips down to grab onto Sage’s right thigh as he groans hotly into Sage’s mouth. Rhys’s thick shaft feels hot inside of him, stretching him so deeply that Sage feels warm all over.
He can hardly breathe, hardly think beyond where their bodies are joined together. Sage moves his hands from Rhys’s hair as he grips onto Rhys’s shoulders, pleasure shooting down his spine as Rhys snaps into him. He whimpers into Rhys’s mouth, feeling his body begin to open to take Rhys in as the heat inside of him threatens to burn him from the inside out.
Rhys groans deeply as Sage’s legs shake around his waist. He thrusts in needily, into the heat of Sage’s body, and brushes up against Sage’s inner walls. Sage whimpers loudly, throwing his head back once more and disconnecting their lips as Rhys buries his face into Sage’s throat, his body trembling with the force of his desire.
Sage gasps as white hot pleasure erupts in his abdomen. He’s been aching for Rhys for what feels like months now. The way Rhys is moving so deeply inside of him—frantic, like he’s aching for it—is slowly starting to drive Sage insane. He thinks back to the way Rhys had looked at him in his suit before the masquerade, how he’d trembled under Rhys’s heated stare. He thinks about how badly he wants Rhys, how he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Rhys right now. He thinks about the way Rhys touches him, how no one will ever be able to touch him as gently or as softly as Rhys does. He whimpers at the way Rhys moves inside of him, at the way Rhys is holding him like he’s something precious and fragile.
It’s so overwhelmingly emotional as their bodies move together. Part of Sage feels so overcome with pleasure that he feels as if he’s convulsing with it, like he can’t handle the overwhelming heat as his entire body spasms, but he also aches for more. Fire that sets Sage’s blood alight explodes between them, and Sage thinks he might break apart from not being able to get enough of Rhys as Rhys pulls out and plunges deep into him. Everything suddenly narrows down to where they’re joined so tightly together as the rising night cascades off of Rhys’s back, as the setting sunlight shimmers against Sage’s skin, as they move together in unison, so enriching, so powerful.
I could die from this, Sage thinks, I could die from wanting Rhys so badly, from the burning pleasure of being with him.
Love will never be a strong enough word for how Sage feels about Rhys, but right now, all he can think about is how much he loves Rhys, how much he constantly craves every inch of him. He doesn’t remember the exact time he fell for Rhys, just knew that Rhys would always be there to catch him despite knowing how hesitant Rhys was to love him. Sage doesn’t remember ever feeling like this—like he’s alive and breathing inside of another person. He feels like he's dissolved into Rhys, so completely consumed by him that Rhys is inside of him and breathing through his lungs, pumping blood through his heart, and Sage is so fully in love with him, so desperately and achingly in love with him that he doesn’t even realize that there are hot tears in his eyes waiting to spill over. Sage is so completely latched onto Rhys, so completely enthralled by him, that he can’t help but claw into the skin of Rhys’s back so that Rhys will never be able to shake him free, so that Rhys will never want to shake him free.
They’re both not going to last much longer, not with the way everything feels so right between them. Desperation begins to creep back into their movements again as their bodies move together, and Sage moans lowly, breathy and beautiful, like a secret. His head spins as Rhys thrusts into him, as Rhys gives his own whimper as he mouths at Sage’s throat, over his clavicle, at anywhere he can find.
Sage runs his good hand over Rhys’s right shoulder, pressing into Rhys’s skin and muscles with his palm, tracing them as he drags his nails across Rhys’s feverish skin and digs them in deeply. Rhys moans, every breath of air for Sage and Sage alone. The thought of it makes Sage’s own breath catch and stutter in a low whimper as the sounds Rhys is making burn themselves into the skin of Sage’s neck like a brand. Those sounds are stars and dreams and glimpses of their future together, only for him to reach out and touch, to close his fingers around and pluck from the sky. A beacon to Sage’s heart. A vision for only them to see.
Rhys’s lower back rolls as Sage drags his nails down, where he can feel the heat
of Rhys’s skin culminate in his hips as he grinds deep into Sage and gasps brokenly. Sage feels like his skin is molten, pressed in so close to Rhys’s body as his eyes roll back in his head again from another caress inside of him, breathless as he whimpers.
Rhys presses his lips into the hollow of Sage’s throat, moaning as his hips undulate. His noises are so low, so deep, but Sage can feel them inside of his chest, composed of the air that fills his lungs. No breath is enough to keep Sage’s lightheadedness away, to make him stop whimpering, stop panting. The air never makes it to Sage’s brain, but it doesn’t matter. Every part of him is Rhys’s. Every part of him will always be Rhys’s. He doesn’t need air. All he needs is Rhys.
The world seems to come to an abrupt halt as the heat in Sage’s stomach lurches once more. He can feel it scorching and sizzling through his blood, can feel it in his veins, in his lungs. He can feel it all over. He’s about to tumble over that edge, and every movement of Rhys’s hips is drawing him closer.
Rhys kisses the spot where Sage’s neck meets his jaw, and suddenly, Sage can feel the sharpness that wasn’t there before, and can feel the way Rhys’s canines caress the skin of his throat. Waiting.
Wanting.
“Sage,” Rhys moans, his thrusts never stopping as he pushes into Sage wantonly. Every cell in Sage’s body thrums at the way he sounds, so vulnerable and wanting, so desperate. He knows what it means.
“Please,” Sage whimpers, trailing his hand up Rhys’s body to tangle his fingers back into Rhys’s hair. He can feel it the moment Rhys snaps, can feel how Rhys’s hold on his control slips entirely as he brings a hand up into Sage’s hair, gently tilts Sage’s head to the side, and bites.
Rhys’s hips don’t falter as he sinks his teeth into the skin of Sage’s throat. Sage doesn’t even have time to feel nervous again, doesn’t have time to prepare himself at all as the tears that have been welling in his eyes fall.