by Anya Byrne
Remy grinned, not bothering to suppress his relief. "Quite right. Want to try?"
It was, perhaps, irresponsible, and it didn't solve a thing. But the tension between them was so thick he needed a strong knife to cut through it, and maybe this would make things better.
Half an hour later, Remy and Baqir had relocated on his living room couch. The world was spinning slightly. At some level, he remained aware that he had something very important to talk about with Baqir, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Baqir seemed to think the same. He pulled Remy in his arms and held him close, his scent once more invading Remy's already overwhelmed senses. "I don't want to be a silencer anymore," he confessed. "I just want to be your mate."
"You already are," Remy whispered against his lips. "And you don't have to be anything you don't want to. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your own."
He wanted to say more, but even this reply came out raspy and slurred. It was just as well, because the tea had obviously affected him, and he was liable to do something stupid or reckless. The silence that fell was comfortable, Baqir's scent relaxed him, and he didn't want to think about conversation, about being afraid, or wary, or even concerned.
Remy didn't know who reached for whom first, but it didn't really matter. Suddenly, they were kissing, their mouths crashing together with an intensity that was almost angry. Remy tasted blood—his own? Baqir's? He had no idea—and he groaned as he crawled into Baqir's lap.
Baqir stabbed his fingers through Remy's hair, pulling hard, and the pain in his scalp made pleasure shoot over Remy. He ground against Baqir's abdomen, biting down on his lower lip. His fingernails turned into claws, and he dug them into Baqir's flesh, heedless of the fact that he was drawing blood.
Judging by the erection nudging Remy's ass, Baqir didn't mind in the slightest. He also wasn't about to let Remy take over. Before Remy even knew what was going on, his mate had flipped him over on the couch and pounced on him with a greed only a werewolf would understand.
Perhaps the feel of Baqir's bulk on top of him should have scared him, but it didn't, not in the slightest. In fact, feeling the warmth, the strength, the passion his mate exuded swept away any doubts Remy might have had. He tried to cling to Baqir, to show how much he wanted this, but it didn't work quite the way he wanted it to.
It was laughable how easily Baqir managed to catch his wrists and pin them down. He wasn't that much bigger than Remy, and yet, Remy blinked and he found his hands immobilized above his head. All the while, Baqir never stopped kissing him, stealing his breath, almost making his heart leap out of his chest. Remy decided he didn't give a fuck about how he got what he wanted, as long as Baqir kept kissing him just like that, kept touching him—never stopped.
Their tongues dueled as they desperately fed on one another, and Remy's head was spinning, his senses on overdrive. At this point, it was likely not even because of Reynard's tea, but simply due to the fact that Baqir was holding him so close, keeping him trapped, and yet protected.
It was easy to surrender to Baqir, to simply let go. Not even breathing seemed to matter anymore. After all, he could easily take in the oxygen in Baqir's lungs, couldn't he? A fuzzy part of him told him breathing didn't work like that, but who the hell cared? As long as Remy could keep touching and being touched, he'd happily go against the laws of nature.
When Baqir finally broke the kiss, Remy took a few seconds to gather his wits—or at least make the attempt—then decided it was pointless and threw all caution to the wind. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd forgone his sanity when he'd followed his heart and brought Baqir here. And the thing was he had absolutely no regrets—save one. "We have far too many clothes on," he managed to whisper against his mate's lips.
Baqir seemed to agree, because he was suddenly clawing at Remy's clothes, ripping off seams and tearing material. The space on the couch was cramped, so he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver, but somehow, he managed. Remy was not as successful, since Baqir had not yet released his wrists. Truly, Remy was astonished that Baqir even had that kind of strength and dexterity despite his intoxicated state. Of course, he was very happy to enjoy the results. Baqir's heated fingers traced his ribcage, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Paradoxically, it made Remy shiver, awakening sensitive nerve endings he hadn't even been aware of.
Baqir's lips left his own, and Remy might have protested if they hadn't latched onto his ear. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but at this point, Remy thought that even Baqir's breath could bring him unreasonable amounts of pleasure. He'd have almost thought Reynard had done something more peculiar than usual to his tea, but he knew better. Touching his mate and feeling him touch back was like a miracle, both soothing him and inflaming him, giving him a sensation of rightness he hadn't experienced since he'd lost his eyesight.
He'd tried so hard to forget about his loss, and then to compensate for it. He'd sought to encourage his dead senses by the worst means possible. But even then, even when he'd been lost in the dangerous highs of the drugs Reynard had drawn him out of, he had never felt this way.
His head spun with lazy, unprecedented desire that pulsed through every atom in his body. He was frustrated, because even if his mate had managed to take off his shirt, he hadn't been as lucky when it came to his pants. The material felt scratchy on his skin, constraining him, making him ache in a blend of arousal, discontent and enthusiasm. He wasn't willing to give up on their proximity, but neither was it enough. He needed more, so much more, and he had no idea how to say it.
A lost gasp escaped him, one that under different circumstances would have embarrassed him. "Baqir... Qiri..."
He didn't know where the pet name had come from, but maybe Baqir could read him better than he could read himself. He broke away from Remy, leaving him feeling temporarily bereft. He didn't even move his hands from his previous position, even if Baqir released his wrists.
Baqir rubbed his thumb over Remy's lower lip, his dark eyes scanning Remy's face with an intense, unfathomable emotion. Following a sudden impulse, Remy opened his mouth and sucked the digit in. The flick of his tongue triggered something unexpected in Baqir. All of a sudden, he snarled and snatched Remy off the couch, draping him over his shoulder.
It would have probably gone a bit smoother had Remy had the foresight to tell Baqir where the bedroom was, and had he not made the damn tea beforehand. As it was, Baqir moved so quickly that he swayed and almost hit the wall. From his place over Baqir's shoulder, Remy managed to point to the right door. Mercifully, Baqir noticed and followed his silent instructions.
They stumbled together into the bedroom, and Baqir set Remy down on the bed. Once more, Remy found himself looking up at his mate, much like he had in the living room. It was different this time. Sexual tension still burned bright and hot between them, but the urgency had shifted and turned into something else, something more comfortable.
For a few seconds, Baqir and Remy stared at each other, neither making a move to take things further. Remy was the one who burst into laughter first, but Baqir swiftly followed. They laughed and laughed, probably more than would have been warranted. "That was a little ridiculous," Baqir said between chuckles.
"It was," Remy agreed, "but personally, I don't mind."
Baqir's laughter finally died, but he was still smiling when he joined Remy on the bed. The smile didn't disappear even as he reached for Remy, this time completely focused on getting rid of the clothing that had thwarted him earlier.
He kissed Remy again, all the while popping the buttons of his jeans one by one. Remy let his eyes drift shut and wrapped his arms around Baqir's neck, losing himself to the lip-lock. By now, he knew better than to think he'd have any luck with helping Baqir out of his own clothes, but that was all right. He let his mate set the pace, because he couldn't think clearly, not beyond the idea of 'yes, this, now'.
Baqir didn't disappoint. When he broke the kiss between them, he did so only to pull off Remy
's shoes and jeans. His own clothes were next, and soon, they were both naked on Remy's bed, trembling with arousal and unconcealed lust. At one point, Remy had abandoned his glasses, so there was not a stitch of foreign material or any other item to distract them from one another.
Remy would have liked to blame the way his world blurred on the tea or his still poor eyesight, but he couldn't really lie to himself, and he had no desire to do so. Besides, when their bodies entwined, he knew he had just found an addiction that was stronger than anything he'd experienced before. They were drunk on one another, and that was fine, because that craving grew into lazy caresses that left trails of fire on Remy's body.
They kissed again, and it was so easy, so natural, like they'd been born to do this, like they'd been sharing a breath for ages. Arousal simmered under Remy's skin, but he made no attempt to exorcise it or set it free. He embraced it, pouring it into the kiss while stealing Baqir's mirroring desire.
Their tongues dueled and their fingers threaded together—and it shouldn't have been as sexy as it was. A simple kiss and a touch shouldn't have had such an effect on Remy, shouldn't have left him with barely enough breath to focus on that very same lip-lock.
But it did, and oh, if he spent his whole life merely kissing Baqir, Remy would die happy. He didn't expect or even necessarily need them to go further—at least not until they did, and Baqir's clever fingers zeroed in on his nipples.
Remy had never realized the tiny buds were an erogenous zone, but one brush of Baqir's thumb over them had him arching into their kiss and moaning unashamedly, demanding more. A lightning bolt of bliss shot through him, pooling straight into his already hard-as-nails dick.
And Baqir was only just beginning. He broke the kiss, giving Remy a few seconds to breathe, before he stole that chance once again, this time in a different way. His kisses traveled all over Remy's face, then down his neck, trailing his collarbone, until at last they reached Remy's chest. Still fondling one nipple with his fingers, he sucked the other in his mouth.
Remy grunted and gripped Baqir's shoulder. The scent of blood told him that he'd once again lost control of his claws. But Baqir just continued his ministrations on Remy, all the while grinding his own erect dick against Remy's thigh.
He didn't seem in a rush either, each motion of his hips lazy, as if it was a side-thought to witnessing Remy's pleasure. In a weird way, Remy could empathize, because that was what he wanted as well—Baqir's ecstasy, not his own.
Only, the two were not separate. Just like two mates were merely pieces of a larger whole, their sexuality was entwined as well. Remy's body responded naturally, and he released his death grip on Baqir's shoulder just so that he could do some exploring of his own.
He allowed his hands to roam over the smooth expanse of Baqir's back, marveling at the barely veiled strength he could feel in the tense muscles. He was a werewolf too, so he shouldn't be impressed, but even Remy's beast recognized a stronger predator. His instinct was to surrender everything he was to this man, and so he did.
He spread his legs in an attempt to accommodate Baqir better, silently offering himself to his mate. Baqir got the message. He released Remy's nipple from his mouth and let out a growl that sounded more animalistic than manlike.
The next thing Remy knew, his mate had crawled down his body and was taking his cock in his mouth. Wet heat enveloped Remy's prick, and he buried his fingers in Baqir's hair, half to seek an anchor against the onslaught of pleasure, half to demand more of it.
Baqir didn't deny him, not in the least. In fact, he increased the rhythm of the suction, seemingly intent on driving Remy insane with lust. Right then and there, it appeared to be a feat he was more than capable of accomplishing. Remy tried to hold on, to maintain at least some sort of grip on his sanity—but he well and utterly failed. Baqir's determination was even stronger than his own, and well... Remy would challenge anyone who had such a talented mouth on his cock to do anything differently.
Baqir took Remy's dick all the way into his throat, and that was all she wrote. With a devastated cry, Remy arched his back and came, spending himself in his mate's mouth.
Baqir drank down every drop of his spunk with a greed that told Remy he was not alone in his new addiction. When he released Remy's dick from his mouth, he looked up, and his eyes were wild and filled with a passion and a need that stirred the comfortable warmth of Remy's afterglow into a renewed blaze of arousal.
Baqir didn't have to ask, but Remy said it nonetheless. "Yes. Please. Claim me."
The words came out raspy, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, but they had their intended effect. A heartbeat later, Baqir was on him once again. Their mouths clashed, and Remy tasted himself on Baqir's tongue. It was incredibly sensual, and it made the already very intimate moment more so. When they broke the kiss, it was only for Remy to accommodate Baqir better, and Baqir took advantage of the occasion to reach for the nightstand and rummage inside.
Remy couldn't imagine why Baqir had gone for that particular place to search for what they needed. Perhaps he was just that predictable, and Baqir had guessed. Or maybe Baqir had been able to scent the substance. It didn't really matter—just the end result did—and in this case, the result was more than satisfying. Baqir flipped Remy on all fours and Remy eagerly went along with it, pushing his ass back in wordless demand.
He heard Baqir release a growl of unrestrained desire, and it swept over him like a physical caress. And then, his mate spread his ass cheeks and a hot wet tongue swept over his crease.
The taboo touch was almost more than Remy could bear. If he hadn't already come minutes earlier, he would have undoubtedly found his peak on the spot. As it was, the sensations that exploded over him still took Remy aback. He had not expected Baqir to do something like this. The shameless hunger with which Baqir devoured him threatened to shatter him, to consume him whole, and Remy was more than willing and very eager to be consumed.
Baqir thrust his tongue into Remy's channel, stabbing the slick muscle deep inside Remy's hole, using it like a little cock to stretch Remy. Remy tried to maintain some sort of hold over his composure, but he didn't have a chance. He ended up pushing back against Baqir, fucking Baqir's face and completely unable to stop.
Baqir didn't seem to mind, allowing Remy to do as he willed—up to a point, at least. A fog of dizzying arousal settled over Remy, so much so that he didn't immediately process the moment Baqir stopped.
Later, Remy would probably blame his reaction on the shock of how bereft he felt at that sudden absence. It was almost embarrassing. When Remy registered the fact that Baqir had ceased his ministrations on his ass, he experienced an odd sense of loss. He cried out and attempted to turn, only to be stopped at the last moment by Baqir.
Baqir was still there, of course. If Remy had been thinking clearly, he'd have realized it, his werewolf hearing and sense of smell more than able to pinpoint Baqir's location. However, Remy couldn't really dwell on any mortification he should have felt, not when one of Baqir's strong hands settled on the small of Remy's back and the other on his hip.
It was steadying, and it cleared Remy's mind—for about half a second. After that, the hand on his back left and when it returned, it focused once again on Remy's opening. Baqir's fingers were now slick with lubricant and they slid inside Remy easily, Remy's flesh eagerly parting for the invasion.
Remy had been more than ready for it, since he'd heard Baqir open the tube of lubricant he'd found earlier. Still, he couldn't help a whimper of pained pleasure at the intimate touch. Given what they'd just done earlier, one would think that Remy would be a little less shocked by the pleasure Baqir brought out inside him, but that wasn't the case. If anything, Remy suspected he would never grow immune to Baqir, no matter how much time they spent together.
That train of thought came to a grinding halt when Baqir's wicked fingers found Remy's prostate. A shock of pleasure swept over Remy, almost like a real lightning zap. Somehow, the touch seemed to echo in eve
ry cell of his body, and in a paradoxical development, it both cleared his head and made him even more lost in the ecstasy.
Maybe it would have been more accurate to say that the touch wiped away everything but the pleasure, but right now, Remy couldn't even process the concept of accuracy. Mostly, his mind rotated around a litany of 'yes', 'now', 'come on', 'more', and of course, 'claim me'.
His impatience must have shown, because Baqir didn't waste too much time with stretching him. He did add a third finger to the ones already pleasuring him and scissored them inside Remy, but as Remy started becoming more and more frantic and clawing at the pillows, Baqir finally succumbed as well.
He pulled his digits out of Remy and flipped him on his back. Remy now found himself facing Baqir, and oh, he definitely agreed with his lover's choice. From this angle, he could get a good look at Baqir's face. The heat in Baqir's eyes was like molten lava coursing through Remy's veins, making the fire of passion between them flare even hotter and brighter.
Wordlessly, Baqir lifted Remy's legs on his shoulders. Remy was practically bent in half, but he didn't mind in the slightest, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.
And then, Baqir was sliding into him, his dick piercing Remy's body, and it was everything Remy had hoped for and more. Baqir moved slowly, giving him time to adjust, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Remy's face. In that moment, Remy thought that truly, it would be so easy to fall in love with this man.
Shaking with tremors of need and with the powerful realization, Remy clung to Baqir's shoulders and gave his lover a nod. He was trying to tell Baqir that it was okay to move, but maybe the gesture was also meant for himself, to acknowledge the fact that he didn't need to be afraid. This, he could trust. Even now, with his rational side still taking a holiday, Remy knew that he and Baqir were meant to be.
Baqir didn't delay in taking him up on the invitation. He pulled out of Remy, and then thrust back inside, aiming for Remy's prostate. He hit it in one try.