Mason's Regret

by Odessa Lynne

  A shiver wracked his body but he still managed a choked, “Ah.” What Five said might be true. He didn’t have any experience one way or the other. All he knew was his goddamn cock was already aching for release, and his balls were tight and his skin sensitive—and he still had Five’s cock stretching him out, making his asshole clench whenever he moved even the slightest bit.

  His contemplation ended suddenly as Five pushed to his knees, took a firm hold on Mason’s ass, and hauled him close, the move thrusting Five’s cock in deep.

  A hoarse shout escaped before Mason could stop it. He grabbed at the pillow under his head, raising his chest and arching his back off the bed, and Five began to fuck him again in earnest.

  Mason couldn’t have said how much time passed like that, but somewhere between Five’s next two orgasms, he was able to wrap one of his legs around the back of Five’s thigh and Five started hugging Mason to the bed, his hands clasped tightly to Mason’s shoulders, their bodies as good as glued together as Five drove himself deep again and again. The new position caused Five’s sweat-slicked abdomen to drag over Mason’s cock until Mason was so close to coming he knew nothing was going to stop it.

  Five had been right about one thing: pleasure was pleasure and Five was doing a hell of a job proving that to Mason.

  One more thrust and the slick slide of skin over Mason’s cock was all it took.

  “Ahhh!” He came with a hoarse shout, his orgasm an uncontrollable shudder that wracked his whole body. Semen spread thick and sticky between them, smearing all over his belly and chest with Five’s very next drive into his ass.

  It took him several seconds to catch his breath, and even then, he seemed to be gasping more than breathing.

  “Goddamn…”

  Five pressed his mouth to Mason’s shoulder, whining low in his throat, his movements taking on an edge of desperation. He would come again soon, Mason was sure of it. As for Mason, he was done.

  Body trembling with fatigue and chest heaving, he dropped his head back to the bed and closed his eyes, body lax, ready to just take it and ride out the rest of Five’s heat. But Five’s belly dragged across his cock again, and Mason jerked and quickly pushed his hand between them to protect his sensitive flesh.

  Five made a harsh sound against Mason’s throat and warmth flooded his ass again.

  Sweat cooled on his overheated skin and the quilt under him had rucked up uncomfortably between his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling while he tried to calm his heartbeat and his breathing. He had no idea how long they’d been fucking. He didn’t even know if Five was finally done.

  He wasn’t. He whimpered against Mason’s throat and the rutting started again.

  Mason choked out a humorless laugh and tried to stretch out his leg again, and this time Five was too far gone into his heat to stop him. Mason groaned at the pull in his back and used his hand to protect his cock from what had suddenly become a very unpleasant friction.

  How the hell did the wolves do it?

  Humans weren’t made for this kind of intense fucking. He didn’t even know if it was safe.

  But goddamn.

  He would never fuck again and not remember what had happened here tonight.

  Later, when Five had finally reached the end of his heat cycle and Mason was lying naked on top of the sheets only half aware of the air cooling his shower-damp skin and the sticky heat of Five’s sleeping body pressed up against his back in the position Five had manhandled him into after his tired slog to the bathroom, one thought kept running through his head.

  He wasn’t gay.

  Sex with Five hadn’t suddenly opened his eyes to some hidden part of himself. He hadn’t been hiding anything. What Five had done was show Mason that he liked having his asshole licked and that he could have an amazing orgasm while he had a cock up his ass, but he still couldn’t think of any man he wanted to fuck.

  Not one.

  But what about an alien to fuck you? that ever present voice in his head whispered.

  Mason tried to turn onto his back but his movement disturbed Five’s sleep. Seconds later, he ended up half crushed under the weight of a thick thigh and half Five’s torso.

  He huffed, then tucked his arm under his head and stared through the shadowy darkness toward the bedroom door.

  Did he want Five to fuck him again—and possibly again and again after that? That was the question keeping him awake. Just twenty-four hours ago, he would’ve said no without a second’s hesitation. But now…

  Now he was going to have to get some goddamned sleep, that was what.

  Still, one thing was certain. He needed a new plan for convincing Five their romance was doomed. “Not gay” wasn’t going to cut it.

  Chapter 15

  Mason slept too long. He wasn’t sure exactly how long that was, but he woke to the rattle of a door shutting somewhere out in the hallway and a chill working its way down his spine.

  The top sheet was at his feet and one of several pillows were resting heavy against his thigh. He rolled to his back with a soft groan. His dick smacked his belly.

  Great. He had an erection even after an entire evening of hard fucking.

  He stretched out his leg to knock aside the pillows and dragged his hands down his face, only to frown up at the bright ceiling and immediately wonder just what time it was.

  He sat up slowly, surprised to note he wasn’t sore at all, not even in his abs, and he’d definitely expected to be sore after so much fucking. He pushed off the side of the bed and took a good look around, but from what he could see in the room nothing had changed since the night before.

  He rounded the bed to peer out the windows. The sun was on its way up into the sky and leaves swirled through the air outside the window, falling from the maple growing too close to the house. He flicked the lock open and swung one of the hinged windows inward. Unpleasantly cool air hit his skin, making goose bumps rise.

  Seven, maybe eight in the morning, he’d guess.

  The scent of pine and hardwoods and earthy decay filled his lungs. The house was situated in a field of tall brown grass scattered with trees. He could make out a few more red maples and some sweet gum and a twisted old black walnut in the distance. He knocked a pile of dead maple leaves off the sill and leaned forward on his elbows, breathing in the crisp scent of fresh air and letting the chill breeze ruffle his hair.

  The door behind him opened, causing a sudden change in the flow of air, and Mason straightened abruptly, turning.

  Five stood just inside the room, the door open behind him. “You shouldn’t stand in the open window.”

  “I needed some fresh air.”

  “You washed away my scent when you showered last night. Someone might catch your scent and try to claim you.”

  Mason took a look over his shoulder. The sun dappled field and shadowed woods beyond didn’t look nearly so inviting anymore. He swung the window closed.

  When he was done, he turned back to Five. “You going to close the door?”

  Five stepped another few feet into the room. “Aaron is bringing food. Your clothes are clean. They’re in the top drawer, along with some t-shirts that should fit you.”

  That got Mason moving. Aaron had already seen as much of him as he was comfortable with. He crossed to the dresser, passing in front of Five.

  Just how soon would Five want to fuck again? Was Mason ready for another round of that, so soon after the first one? He wanted to say no, but the truth was he couldn’t seem to stop noticing how Five’s short-sleeved t-shirt clung to his chest, highlighting the ridges and dips of muscle and bone, or how Five’s chest hair curled at the edges of the shirt’s collar—hair that Mason had felt against the palms of his hands and that he knew was both softer and finer than it looked.

  He’d never really paid attention to that kind of thing before and he didn’t know why the fuck he had to start noticing now.

  Life was already complicated. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want to be here an
d yet here he was. Stuck. He wondered how Marcus was handling their current situation. He hoped he’d get a chance to see Marcus soon, because they needed to talk. Mason still had a shit-ton of questions about what had gone down at the lab.

  He opened the top drawer to find his jeans neatly folded right under his boxers. He pulled out the boxers and stepped into them quickly, determined to get his ass covered as fast as humanly possible. “I didn’t hear anyone come in last night.”

  “Aaron’s been training with Six in stealth and tracking.”

  Mason shook out his jeans and yanked them on with hurried, sharp movements. He forced the buttons through the holes. “Six?”

  “Ishikeille. I told my betas to choose human names for your benefit. Some of us already had them. Those of us who didn’t do now.”

  Mason had started sorting through the stack of soft cotton t-shirts as Five spoke. The shirts were all the same, with deep v-necked collars and short sleeves that ended high on a man’s biceps, and they varied only in color. The wolves seemed particularly fond of t-shirts and this particular style had become popular shortly after the wolves came to Earth. He remembered because everyone had spent that first year excited by every little piece of news that came out about the wolves and their introduction to the human world. Wolves had worn those damn t-shirts in nearly every veo stream that hit the nets and then so had everyone else.

  He picked a black one and pulled it on over his head. When he yanked it down, he caught Five staring at his midsection. His stomach gave an odd little flip.

  He covered his reaction by smoothing his shirt over his stomach. “Six isn’t a name. Neither is Five.”

  “Six has a strange sense of humor. He chose his name only after hearing mine.”

  Mason paused in the middle of reaching for his cleaned socks. “That’s brave of him.”

  Five’s wicked sharp eyeteeth flashed when he smiled. “He’s my beta. His bravery isn’t in question.”

  Mason side-eyed Five while he separated his socks. “You don’t mind that he’s obviously poking fun at you?”

  “His choice of name is his own. How can I find his desire to emulate me offensive?”

  “Enlightened of you.”

  “A feared alpha is no alpha at all.”

  Mason couldn’t have stopped his snort if he’d had claws at his throat.

  Five’s chin rose and he managed to look down his nose at Mason even though he wasn’t that much taller at all. “You will learn.”

  What could he say to that? He hoped not to be there long enough to learn any such thing.

  Mason pulled on his right sock, looking up from his half-crouched position. “What made you choose Five as a name?”

  “You offered your brother your hand five times to help him up along the path we took.”

  Mason paused with his foot raised, sock halfway on, then had to adjust quickly to keep his balance. He finished pulling on the sock and straightened. “That’s it? That’s how you chose your name?”

  “Would you rather I say it was because I was told once that the second of the fifth would be my fifth mate and that the fifth would be my last?”

  Mason tried not frown. Didn’t work. He had a feeling Five was messing with him and he didn’t like it, not one damn bit. “Are you just trying to be an asshole or is this your usual MO?”

  “Em oh?”

  “Modus operandi.”

  “An acronym.”

  “A fucking acronym. It means—”

  “I know what it means.”

  Just then, Aaron stopped in the doorway behind Five, carrying a folded table and a slat-backed chair made of a dark wood.

  Five gestured toward the window. “There.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  Mason moved to the side and watched silently while Aaron carried the table and chair into the room, unfolded the table in front of the windows, then placed the chair at one end. He only glanced once, quickly, at Mason, before leaving without another word.

  Five picked up the chair Mason had sat in the night before and carried it to the table. The wood legs hit the hardwood with a quiet thunk as Five placed the chair right beside the one Aaron had brought in.

  “Sit.”

  Mason eyed the end of the table where he’d expected that second chair to go and thought about what it could mean that the chair hadn’t gone there. “How about I just wait until he’s brought the food?”

  Five tilted his head and looked sideways at Mason, before snorting softly. “You question me at every turn. I’m almost insulted.”

  But Five didn’t sound insulted. He sounded amused.

  Mason crossed his arms, feeling the pull of his t-shirt’s tight sleeves across his shoulders. The son of a bitch was making fun of him.

  “You said last night Matthew was alive. How’d you find out? Where is he?”

  “He’s safe. Anything else about his situation is irrelevant to you right now.”

  “Irrelevant. What a fucking useless word.” He wanted to push Five for more on the subject, but one look at the suddenly firm slash of Five’s mouth told Mason he’d be wasting his time.

  Fine. He had other questions. Plenty of them, in fact.

  “So where’s my brother? Are you going to keep me locked up in here or am I going to be allowed to see him?”

  “You’re not a prisoner.”

  “In fact or in theory?”

  Five placed his hands on the back of the chair and curled his long fingers around the top slat. There was a dusting of hair between those knuckles that Mason hadn’t noticed the night before, and he couldn’t say why he was noticing it then. But those were strong fingers. Hard. Masculine. Nothing like—

  A low rumble came from Five’s chest and startled Mason so hard he jerked.

  When he looked up, Five was staring right at him, his brilliant blue eyes unreadable. Mason tightened his arms over his chest and forced himself to meet that gaze head on. He wasn’t embarrassed; he didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, goddammit. He’d just been contemplating the differences between a man’s and a woman’s touch. That was all.

  Given his circumstances, it was a natural thing to do. He’d had those hands all over him last night.

  Had the novelty of the events of the night before been responsible for his reaction to those hands—or had it been the fault of something else altogether?

  There was really only one way to find out.

  “You’re not a prisoner,” Five repeated. “But I have an obligation to keep you safe. You’re free to go wherever I go unless I say otherwise, but I won’t leave you in the care of anyone other than my pack until the heat cycle ends.”

  Mason scowled, suddenly feeling a lot less amenable to the thoughts he’d been contemplating. “Shit. So I am a prisoner. And my brother?”

  The wood under Five’s hands creaked. “You are not a prisoner.”

  Mason unfolded his arms long enough to jab his forefinger toward his ear. “You keep saying that, but that’s not what I keep hearing.”

  A loud scrape stopped him from saying more. He darted his gaze down to where Five held the wood slat tightly in his hands. Four distinct gouges marked the dark wood.

  Mason stared at those gouges for a good long thirty seconds before raising his eyes. He tried for a light tone. “So I’m pissing you off, right?”

  “You keep testing my patience as if what I have is without limit. It isn’t. You aren’t a prisoner. What you are is human. Breakable and fragile, and without an understanding of the instincts that drive us, and I cannot set aside my responsibility for your wellbeing as my heat mate, any more than I would set aside my responsibility for you as my mate.”

  Mason heard it distinctly that time, the change in intonation, the thing that distinguished one use of the word mate from another. Satisfaction swept through him. He had that fucking pattern nailed.

  “My brother. You never answered my question. Is he a—” Shit. He’s almost said prisoner again. “Is he going to be und
er guard too?”

  Five arched one eyebrow, as if to call out Mason’s subtle—maybe not so subtle—defiance. “He’s just as human as you are. So yes, he’ll be protected while he’s here. But he won’t be here indefinitely.”

  “What’s that mean? You said he could come with us when we came here.”

  “And he did. But someone else has a claim on him. I explained that he could ask me to deny that claim as Alpha, but he didn’t.”

  Mason made a fist at his side. “He wants to go.” And God, he sounded so bitter about it. Was he never going to be able to let this go?

  “His fate isn’t yours.”

  “He should’ve stayed three years ago. I don’t know why the fuck he had to listen to me when that was obviously what he wanted to do.”

  As if he could erase his guilt of the last three years by blaming Marcus. It hadn’t worked yet, but he just kept on trying like a total fucking idiot.

  “He said you wouldn’t understand. Why do you begrudge him his fate?”

  “I don’t. He can do what the hell he wants. I’ll be fine without him.” Mason stared pointedly into the hallway. “Where the fuck is that kid with the food?”

  “You shouldn’t feel abandoned.”

  Faster than a forest fire set ablaze by a lightning strike, anger raged into an inferno in Mason’s chest. He snapped his gaze back to Five. “Don’t you tell me what I should feel. That wolf fucked my brother for no other reason than he needed somebody to fuck. He came in that room for me. If it had mattered to him who the fuck he put his dick in, why the fuck would he have settled for Marcus so quickly when Marcus stepped in front of me?”

  Mason couldn’t ever forget the way he’d looked to Marcus with a plea in his gaze as that wolf reached for him. If he could’ve gone back and stopped himself from opening his mouth, he would’ve done it a thousand times.

  “Marcus,” he’d said, a thick, panicked call for his brother to do something, just a half second before that wolf gripped Mason’s wrist and started to pull him forward.

  Unthinking, he reached for his wrist and rubbed. It used to ache: at night, in the cold, when it rained, until finally, one day, it had just quit.