Fenris’s mouth claimed me again before I could speak, and the night vanished in a haze of desperate, wine-soaked kisses. I ran my hands down his back, pressing my fingers into the wet fabric that hid his sweet curves. His hips rocked against mine, his cock pressing into my stomach, and oh, stars! I wanted him!
I let go of his ass and moved my hand between our bodies. I struggled with the laces on his damned tight pants while he kissed me so hard my head rocked back into the building. I tried to pull away, to focus on untying his damned pants, but Fenris caught my bottom lip in his teeth and brought me back.
His hand pressed between my legs. I gasped. Sometimes I know exactly when I’m going to tumble over the edge, but not that night. That night, I went from turned on to bursting in the time it takes to down a goblet of terrible Strawberry Festival wine.
Fenris yanked my pants down to my hips, wrapped his fingers around my shaft, and pumped in time with his hips. I let my head fall back, gasping into the moonlight. Fenris ran his lips and teeth over my chin, my jaw, my neck.
And I exploded. I came so hard I cried out, my legs shoving my body into Fenris, my arms clenching around his waist. My seed spilled hot and wet into the tight space between our bodies, joining the wine and sweat that coated our skin.
“Oh! Oh, fuck,” I gasped.
Fenris was still kissing my neck, my shoulders. My mind slowly circled back into my body, and I groaned with the pleasure of our touch.
“H-how long,” I stammered, “have you wanted that?”
Fenris laughed against the hot skin of my neck. “Do you remember the night you drank too much? This winter, when the snow was still piled high?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as if that could block out the memory. Shit, yes, I remembered that night. It was the same night I’d been turning over in my head for months, wondering what I’d done to fuck things up between us. I’d had a horrible argument with Óðinn that morning after he declared he’d decided it might be a good idea to marry me off to a dwarf. I’d raged and told him to go fuck a dwarf himself, but in the end my anger curled up on itself like fire fading into a chunk of ash. Of course, I’d always known I’d have no say in my potential spouse. And I’d always known I’d go along with whatever shitty plans Óðinn concocted. But I didn’t have to like them, damn it. So I’d gone to the Ironwood that night in an unusually foul mood and drank enough mead to blur the edges of the night.
“Did I...” I gasped, distracted by the way Fenris’s hips were still rippling against mine. “Did I say something stupid?”
He laughed again, low and soft, almost a whisper. “You fell.”
“Ah, shit.” I brought my hand up and pressed it against the ridge of my nose.
Yes, I had fallen. Straight into a chest-high snowdrift, if I remembered correctly. And Fenris had pulled me to my feet. We’d stood together beside the fire, our chests pressed against each other, the warmth of his naked body seeping through the thin, wet layer of my clothes. I remembered wanting to kiss him so badly it hurt, like a knife buried in my chest, but even in my intensely inebriated stated I’d been able to suppress that desire.
A kiss wasn’t what Fenris wanted, I’d told myself. A kiss wasn’t why he welcomed me into his solitary world every month. So I’d shoved that aching need down, back to the simmering pit of resentment and rage where I kept all of my other inappropriate reactions.
“I almost kissed you that night,” I said. My voice cracked as I spoke, as though the honesty of those words had broken something inside me.
Fenris pulled back, allowing a sudden gust of cool air to dance over my chest. “I almost kissed you, too. All those nights we spent together, I’d never thought of you that way. But, when you were in my arms—” He turned away, facing the darkness of the night sky. “It’s like it lit a fire inside me. And, stars, I couldn’t douse the damn thing.”
“Why?” I panted. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice so low it was almost hard to make out his words. “That’s why I started wearing the pants. I worried I’d scare you away if you saw how hard I got when I was around you.”
His eyes were still wide, as if he were scared himself. As if he were expecting to be hurt.
I sank my fingers into his wet hair and pulled his face to mine, kissing him. I pressed our lips together until his body relaxed, until his hands closed around my arms.
“I’m coming back,” I whispered as I finally broke away from our kiss. “As if you could keep me away.”
He grinned. Fenris looked so stars-damned handsome with his wine-wet hair and the moonlight on his full lips that I had to kiss him again.
And again.
And again.
It wasn’t until Fenris’s back slapped the wooden facade of a building that I realized I’d pushed him across the alleyway, our feet slipping over wet cobblestones as our lips danced together, our mouths and tongues embracing, our hands ripping at the sodden fabric covering our bodies. Despite the orgasm that had just crashed over me, the hot, needy press of my arousal was once again draining blood from my body, concentrating my attention between my legs.
Fenris panted against my chest. Our mouths had fallen apart when he hit the building, and his forehead bent to touch mine. He was shivering, almost as if it were cold outside, although the night air was gentle and warm.
Stars help me, the mighty Fenris wolf of the Ironwood seemed almost frightened.
I ran my fingers along the strong curve of his jaw, tilting his lips to meet mine. And then I kissed him softly, as though we’d been lovers for an age, while my hands traced the muscles of his abdomen and finally untied his stars-damned laces.
He gasped when I pushed his pants down his hips and brushed my fingers along the smooth length of his cock. I wondered, briefly, exactly how long it had been since Fenris had felt the embrace of a lover, or the heat of skin against skin. He hissed in another breath, and I dropped to my knees in front of him.
He began to speak, but whether in protest or encouragement I couldn’t tell. I ran my tongue over the head of his cock, tasting wine and salt, and his words dissolved into a single, long moan of pleasure. I kissed the lone, blind eye of his manhood, then brought my lips to his shaft, kissing all of it, sucking clean the wine of Evenfel’s fountain. I closed my eyes as I made love to him with my mouth, as if my kisses could convey the pent-up aching desire of all the months and years I’d spent dreaming of his taste, imagining the feel of his cock between my lips.
Fenris sank his fist into my hair and groaned. His hips kicked out, then settled into a slow, rocking rhythm as I opened my mouth to embrace his length. Oh, he was good! My tongue circled his head as my lips slid along his length, going slowly, wanting to drive him mad before I brought him to release.
His groans became gasps, almost whimpers, and his fingers tightened against my scalp. Sometimes my lovers become impatient, forcing themselves down my throat or issuing curses when I torture them with my mouth. But Fenris just seemed lost, drowning in the pleasure I gave him, as incapable of rescuing himself as I’d been of slaking my need for him. My own cock stiffened against what was left of my pants as I sucked Fenris, slowly wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock. His entire body was as taut as a spring that had been wound for days. His feet squelched against the cobblestones as he thrust his hips up again and again, wordlessly pleading for release.
Oh, stars! Sucking Fenris was bringing me almost as much pleasure as it brought him. My cock ached for his touch. After this, I’d pull him back to the woods and lay him down under the willow tree where we’d hidden from the guards. I’d show him I knew other ways to pleasure a male lover. Many other ways.
My fingers flexed around the base of his cock, and I pulled, tightening my mouth. Fenris cried out above me, a strangled call that sounded almost like surrender. His legs stiffened against me, and his fingers formed a fist of my hair. A moment later, he cried out, and his cock pulsed in my m
outh, filling me with the heat and salt of his seed. His body sagged against the wooden building as he gasped for breath.
I pulled myself to my feet slowly and leaned against his heaving chest. He met my eyes in the moonlight, his wine-darkened hair flat against his forehead, his gaze wild and fierce. I pressed my lips to his, then opened my mouth, letting him taste himself as we embraced. By the time we pulled apart, both panting into the wine-scented air, I was once again hard enough to pound nails with my cock.
“Back to the woods?” I gasped.
Fenris shook his head. I frowned in confusion, but he pulled away, grabbed my shoulders, and pressed me against the rough wooden wall.
“What—” I began.
Fenris dropped to his knees before me. He ripped open my pants, brought his mouth to my cock, and drowned me in an ecstasy so intense I lost the ability to speak. Above us, the Strawberry Moon lit the streets of Evenfel with its warm, ethereal glow, and the stars spun in their silent dances through the Nine Realms.
TEMPTING FENRIS WOLF: CHAPTER FIVE
My eyes flickered open. Light danced behind the treetops, gilding each tiny green leaf. That late already? Shit.
With a groan, I rubbed my hand across my eyes. My head ached, but the pain was slight enough to ignore. I guessed most of the residents of Evenfel were waking up this morning feeling much, much worse. I stretched, then grimaced in distaste. My legs were tangled in something damp and heavy. I reached down and peeled it off. It was Fenris’s shirt, still soaked with wine from the Strawberry Festival.
Fenris. I rolled over and saw him lying face down next to me, snoring slightly. His glorious body was completely naked in the thin light of early morning. He’d been in almost that exact position last night when sleep finally claimed us.
“Týr,” Fenris had said as the first tendrils of dawn began to streak the sky above us. “Are we still friends?”
At that point, he was curled against my chest, and we’d settled into the thick moss of the forest floor, our legs intertwined as the stars faded above us.
“Of course,” I’d said, kissing the top of his head. “I’d say we’re very good friends, now.”
He’d sighed as if we had just resolved something that had troubled him for a long time, and I had let my eyes close. We had fallen asleep curled together, but I must have rolled away in the night.
The memory brought a surprising rush of heat. I thought I’d be completely spent this morning after how many times we’d come together last night, but apparently not. Apparently, all it took was the sight of Fenris’s naked body to bring my cock back to life.
I looked at him again. A strand of hair had fallen almost across his soft lips, and I had to stop myself from pushing it away. Best to let him sleep.
I forced myself to my feet and glanced around the clearing. The barrel of mead was still hidden, untouched, beneath the fir tree. The sack of bread was where I’d dragged it under the willow. Fenris would have everything he’d need until next month. I pulled on my pants, which were still damp and reeking from our tumble in the fountain, and tried to ignore the heaviness in my chest that always came with leaving the Ironwood. Even when the most Fenris and I had done was spend the night laughing and trading stories, I’d still hated to leave. And it was probably only going to get harder to drag myself back to Asgard, I thought with a sigh.
I ground my teeth together and forced myself to stand tall. I had to return. Someone needed to throw the rest of them off, to keep Óðinn and his warriors from seeing Fenris’s terrifying wolf form darkening the shadows beneath the Ironwood.
The thought made my chest hum with warmth, despite the pain of leaving. Týr the Brave protecting Fenris. Keeping him safe, giving him what he needs to make a life in the Ironwood. Bread and mead and, now, the pleasure of another body. I rubbed my hand across my face, felt the scrape of stubble on my palm, and realized I was smiling. Only thirty days until the next full moon.
With another, lighter sigh, I pulled at the latent strands of magic. Everyone in Asgard can summon the Bifröst to move between the Nine Realms, but for me, it’s a fucking chore. The magic slipped out of my grasp, and I had to bite off a curse. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. The magic hummed and purred. Come on, I thought. Come the fuck on—
The strands shattered with a snap that burned my palm.
“Fuck!” I hissed under my breath. “This is supposed to be easy.”
“What’s supposed to be easy?”
I turned. Fenris had rolled over onto his side. He was watching me with his head propped on his arm and a wide, lazy smile on his face.
“Everything is supposed to be fucking easy,” I grumbled. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to live on Asgard and not be able to summon the Bifröst?”
Fenris’s smile widened. “I guess I do now.”
I found myself smiling in return, my irritation evaporating like the morning mists which clung to the base of the trees in the Ironwood.
“Sometimes I think you’ve got the right idea, living out here in the woods,” I said.
Fenris sighed happily and rolled onto his back, settling into the grass. “Yeah. Sometimes I think so, too.”
I watched Fenris for another minute as the sun laid patterns of flickering shadows across his chest and legs. I really was almost envious of him; life in the woods seemed so simple.
“I’ll see you in a month,” I said.
“I know,” he responded. “See you in a month, my very good friend.”
With another sigh, I opened my hands to the magic pulsing around Jötunheimr. This time, the damned energy cooperated, and the cold of the Bifröst poured into the Ironwood. Another step and I was on the bridge between Realms.
I turned back just as the mists closed around me and saw the gleam of Fenris’s bright, pale eyes.
“REPORT ON THE MONSTER?”
I flinched at the bright light. I’d expected to slink back to Asgard unnoticed, change my clothes, and perhaps soak in the hot spring before my father summoned me for a report. But instead, Óðinn was standing on the rocky strand of the Bifröst’s terminus, one hand clenched around his spear Gungnir, his lone eye scowling at me.
It was not the most welcoming reception.
My feet hit the stones of Asgard’s beach, and I stumbled forward. Luckily, I caught myself just in time. I was almost positive Óðinn would have let me fall flat on my face. I brought my hand up to shade my eyes and took a step back. The last thing I wanted was for Óðinn to smell the wine that had soaked into my pants.
“He’s fine,” I said.
Óðinn grunted in a non-committal way. “How big is he?”
I ran my fingers through my hair and squinted at Val-hall. Fenris’s snout would probably reach the lowest of Val-hall’s rafters.
“About the same,” I said. “I think he’s maxed out on his growth.”
Óðinn’s eye narrowed. “You drink with him?”
“Of course.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. Fenris had tried a sip of Evenfel’s truly wretched wine.
“Where’s the empty barrel?” Óðinn asked.
Oh, fuck me. I hadn’t even thought of that. Every month, I brought Fenris a new barrel of mead, and I emptied the old barrel into the river. Except for this month, when I’d been so excited about the damned Strawberry Festival I hadn’t even thought of collecting the empty barrel.
“He destroyed it,” I lied. “He must have been upset when it ran dry.”
Óðinn sniffed. “Good. If he needs two barrels, you bring him two barrels.”
I nodded in what I desperately hoped looked like agreement. It must have worked because Óðinn spun on his heels and started off toward Val-hall. I followed, still squinting into the light and trying to stay downwind.
Halfway across the green fens of Asgard, Óðinn stopped and spun back around.
“If I had to destroy him,” Óðinn said. “What would you recommend?”
“Wait, what?”
My gut clenc
hed as if the Bifröst had just spit me out a second time, jarring my feet against the rough stones of Asgard. Óðinn shifted his spear from one hand to another. His gaze stayed on me.
“That’s not necessary,” I stammered. “There’s no need to destroy him.”
“I thought you weren’t getting attached.”
“I’m not attached, damn it! I just— He’s not a threat. The Fenris wolf poses no threat to Asgard or anyone in Asgard.”
I swallowed hard. My mouth felt like it had been filled with sand.
“Fenris just wants to be left alone,” I said.
Óðinn nodded. “How many men?”
“What?”
“How many men would it take to destroy him?”
“I don’t—Shit.” I ran my fingers through my hair. Óðinn needed an answer, damn it. He needed an answer or he’d go down there himself, and Fenris would be truly fucked.
“At least a dozen.” My voice sounded pinched and rough, as if I’d been screaming all night. “More, if you’re relying on the warriors alone. A dozen if you bring Thor, Baldr, and Frey.”
Óðinn smiled. I felt as cold as if the Bifröst had sunk me to the bottom of the ocean. I woke up next to Fenris this morning with my feet tangled in his shirt, his scent and sweat rubbed all over my body, and now I’d just told my father how many men it would take to kill him.
I couldn’t look at Óðinn. I turned to my side to watch the ocean smash itself against the stones of Asgard. My father’s cloak rustled, and I heard the heavy thud of his spear against the grass as he resumed his progress toward Val-hall.
Shit. I’d done what I had to do, given my father an answer and kept him from poking around the Ironwood, but somehow everything felt wrong. And I didn’t dare show it, lest Óðinn suspect I really was getting too attached.
I wasn’t, of course. I wasn’t attached to anything in the Nine Realms.
The Complete Fenris Series Page 4