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It’s not a civilized fantasy to have. But I’m not civilized, and neither is he. When I was younger and was still a lad, mooning over a certain lass, I never imagined I’d want to be with a man this way.
And yet, things just happen, don’t they? I am only this way for Lor—I never wanted another man as I do Lor, my best friend, who is sometimes my lover.
With him, I can let go. I don’t need to hide the rough, alpha side of me. I don’t need to be gentle, because there’s nothing I do that he cannot handle. I might not have an inner beast like he does, but there is undoubtedly a beastly side to me, one that has no means of outlet.
Save with him.
My hand encloses the back of his neck, and my lips slam against his. The kiss is aggressive, with tongues and nipping teeth. I groan as one particularly sharp bite yields the taste of blood. My fingers tighten on his hair. He stands passive, letting me take what I need, yet matching my aggression, the hunger of his own.
It is not always like this between us. Sometimes, we share a lass. Sometimes, one of us strokes one out while watching the other rut a lass.
As I draw my lips back, and we stare at one another, sharing gusty breaths, I wonder why I’ve never felt jealous with Lor.
Maybe this is a fleeting arrangement and, one day, circumstances will lead us down different paths. He is a shifter. I’m a barbarian. I will die in battle, or I will return home.
He may return to the Baxter clan with me and take a mate there like I do. Or maybe he will find a different home.
It dawns upon me just how deep my feelings for him are. They crept up upon me over time. We fight together. He has saved my life many times, just as I have saved his. There’s a bond between us that is unmistakably a form of love.
Part of me is sad that what we share might one day end, yet I’m not the kind of man who wallows in maybes and tomorrows when I have something good in front of me.
My hand drops away just as he reaches to enclose my throat. With a jerk, he slams me back against the wall beside the door.
Fuck! That move has my cock flexing and my balls trying to rise—I groan.
He licks his lips, his other hand on my belt, tugging it away and dropping it to the floor with a clatter. He pulls impatiently on my pants, shoving them down only far enough for him to reach in and grab my cock. His touch is bold in the way a lass’s never is. A strong, firm stroke that goes from root to tip and has me fighting the need to fucking come.
He leans forward, his lips inches from mine, as he handles me with yet more rough strokes.
I’m fucking panting. My cock is engorged with blood. If I lived forever, I would never have enough of him, of this.
“Suck me,” I say. “I want you to. I want you on your knees choking on my cock.”
“Do you, now?” His voice is a purr.
I can be demanding. I don’t always get what I want. Ilikethat I do not always get what I want.
He must feel indulgent today, for the big alpha drops to his knees. I slam my head back against the wall, and a deep rumble emanates from my chest as he points my cock head toward his mouth, opens, and swallows me down his throat.
Gods, he’s so fucking good at this—hot, wet mouth, the swipe of his tongue as he works magic along the length of my rod. I can’t hold back, and I don’t want to. He sucks me deep into his throat no more than a dozen times before I fist his hair and shoot a heavy load down his throat. He swallows around me, throat working to take all I give. Then he draws his fist upward, dragging his thumb along the underside of my sticky cock all the way to the tip, squeezing out the last heady gush of cum.
I heave a deep breath.
“Feeling better now?” he asks, smirking.
My cock bobs again as he strokes it. I’m too fucking sensitive, and I try to peel him off.
His fingers tighten, and my cock jerks again.
“Fuck!”
“Exactly,” he says, rising from his knees. “It is time we fucked.” Releasing my cock, he closes his fingers around my throat and shoves me toward the bed.
“Strip and on your knees.”
I don’t hesitate. My pants are still around my fucking thighs, but I kick them off and drop to the floor to the side of my bed. I don’t look back lest I embarrass myself and come again, but I hear the drawer open and close beside me. The wet, sticky noises that follow tell me he’s lubing up his cock. There’s a clatter beside me as he puts the bottle of oil on the bedside table.
One hand encloses the back of my neck to shove my face into the bed before two, sopping oil-covered fingers are driven into my ass.
