His eyes were screwed tightly closed, mouth open, and his breath coming in short gasps. Aaron watched him for any sign of pain, careful to keep his pace slow and steady so as not to strain any of Michael’s injuries. “Okay?” he asked.
Michael glared at him. “Stop asking…” He shoved his head back into his pillow, baring his neck. “More fucking.”
Aaron stared at him, his fangs aching with the urge to lean in and…bite.Closing his eyes for a second, he shook it off, focusing on the push and pull of Michael’s body beneath him.
His orgasm built, slowly at first, spurred on by the sounds Michael made every time he fucked into him.
Michael’s hand on his cheek made him meet his gaze. “Let them out.”
“What?” Aaron stilled, buried deep inside him.
“Your fangs…” He ran his thumb over Aaron’s teeth. “I know you want to.”
“I do.” Aaron breathed, withdrawing in a slow torturous slide that made him groan. “I won’t bite you. I promise.”
“I know.” Michael smiled. “I trust you.”
With a low growl, Aaron tipped his head back a little and let his fangs slide out, licking over the tips and pushing back into Michael at the same time.
Michael gasped, clutching at Aaron’s shoulders. “Oh fuck,” he hissed. “So hot.”
He couldn’t bite Michael, but he could let him feel them against his skin. Sliding his hands under Michael’s shoulders, Aaron held him tight and dipped his head enough to reach the base of his throat. With each slow, measured thrust, he scraped his teeth over Michael’s skin, pressing down enough to leave a mark but not draw blood.
As his orgasm threatened to overtake him, Aaron struggled to contain his wolf—his claws eased out, the tips piercing Michael’s skin, and he cried out, clutching Aaron so tight.
“Gonna come.”
Sticky wetness hit Aaron’s stomach, the scent of them and sex pushing him over the edge, and he came with a half yell, half growl, holding Michael close as the aftershocks rushed through him.
They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breath, until Michael pushed at his shoulder. “Heavy,” he muttered.
With a start, Aaron realised he was lying on him with his full weight. “Shit, sorry.” Pulling out carefully, he disposed of the condom and lay next to Michael, propped up on one elbow. Michael’d got come on both of them by the looks of it, and Aaron reached out to run his finger through the mess on Michael’s stomach.
Michael arched an eyebrow but made no move to stop him. “I thought that was a myth, that shifters liked to do that.”
Grinning at him, Aaron continued to swirl his finger in circles, rubbing it in. “No. It’s not a myth. I mean, usually it’d be mine I’d be rubbing into you, but…” He shrugged. “I like this too.”
Michael regarded him for a second, then touched his hand to Aaron’s tattoo. “Can I ask about this now?”
“If I can ask how things turned out with the case?”
“You don’t know?”
“I know some, mainly what they’ve reported in the news.” He knew Sam had spoken to Frank, but the SCTF had declined to give out much information on an ongoing case.
“Well, I can’t tell you everything, but I can probably tell you a bit more than the news.” He stroked a finger down Aaron’s chest, tracing the outline of the butterfly. Aaron shuddered. “You first?”
Sighing, Aaron settled onto his back. “When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with cancer. I won’t bore you with all the details, but it was terminal.” He glanced up to find Michael watching him intently. “That’s where I met Harry—in hospital.”
“I know.”
Aaron wasn’t all that surprised. “You read my file?” By law, all bites were documented. The information wouldn’t have been hard to find.
“Had too.”
“Well,” Aaron continued, “as you’re aware, the legal age for requesting the bite is sixteen, and at the time packs were eager to fill out their numbers, so that’s what me and Harry both did.” He pointed at his tattoo. “I didn’t have the best time of it growing up—lanky, short, and incredibly shy.”
“Struggling to see you as anything but a cute teen.”
