In The Wind
by Wren Boudreau
The crisp wind carried the threat of more snow, along with the scents of fresh bread and warm chocolate that originated in the kitchen of Rosie’s Bakery. Max Erion sniffed appreciatively as he stowed bags and boxes in the back of his truck. He’d missed Rosie’s coffee and her chocolate croissants, and decided that the rest of his shopping could wait until he’d had his fill of both. Those pastries were worth all the teasing his brothers dished out about the big bad wolf and his penchant for flakey little sweets. Laughing at himself, he closed up the truck and started across the parking lot at a quick walk, easily avoiding ice patches and stepping over little drifts of snow.
When he rounded the corner and stepped on to the sidewalk of picturesque Center Street, Max picked up the scent of cinnamon. And something else. Something that made him stop in his tracks and take a deep breath. He’d never smelled anything so enticing. He didn’t have a name for it, but he knew he liked it. The new scents mingled with the ones he’d been following, creating a seductive trail. He let his nose lead him and happily it led right to the front door of the bakery. The little bell jingled overhead as he went in.
The unfamiliar scent seemed stronger here inside the shop, despite the aroma of various baked goods. That was curious.
“Max! You’re back early.” Rosie looked up from filling the display case with muffins. He realized he’d just stopped inside the open door when she raised an eyebrow and said, “Feel free to shut the door and come in.”
He shook himself and closed the door. “Hi Rosie.” That indefinable aroma led him to a small table against the wall. He slipped off his gloves, loosened his scarf and shucked off his coat as he took a seat.
“I didn’t think you were going to be back until after January at least.” She came out with a mug of steaming coffee for him then went back behind the counter.
“I didn’t think so either. The job ended up being less complicated than we thought.” He sipped the perfect brew, enjoying the strong flavor. Two months ago he’d been sent to work security for a company out east. The CEO had been receiving threats, and there’d been sabotage to several of the computerized systems. The whole thing had been surprisingly and suddenly resolved when the culprits turned on each other. Max had thought it was too good to be true, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, as it meant he could be home for the holidays. He wasn’t usually sent to jobs out of the area, and he had not been looking forward to being away from his pack for Christmas.
“I made an extra batch of chocolate croissants today,” Rosie said as she placed a plateful of the warm pastries in front of him. “Something in the wind told me you’d be here.”
Max didn’t say anything because his mouth was full of sweet dough and slightly bitter chocolate. He nodded his appreciation to Rosie, who grinned and refilled his cup before she set off to attend to other customers. He finished off a second croissant as quickly as the first, swiveled sideways in his chair and leaned back against the wall. He sipped his coffee and let the little café and the scenic street outside the plate glass windows fade away as he concentrated on what he couldn’t see.
The scent of cinnamon originated at the counter; Max guessed it was one of Rosie’s famous cinnamon lattes. The other scent was more of a savory fragrance: a little peppery, not too different from the sage his grandmother used in her stuffing, but with a trace of mint. As he sat amid the sweet aromas of the bakery, the intriguing scent became more noticeable for its difference. He could sense its path: swirling in the wind as the door opened, floating to the display case, lingering at the counter, settling at the table where Max now sat, and flowing back to the door. He had to find out where it came from.
He finished his coffee and took his plate and mug up to the counter. There was still one croissant left, which he grabbed as he handed Rosie a twenty.
“You in a hurry?” Rosie asked as she made change.
“Hmm?” He wolfed down the treat. “Yeah. Some things I need to look into. But don’t worry, now that I’m home you’ll see me plenty.”
Rosie handed him a bag filled with more of the croissants. “It’s nice to have you back, Max. You have a good day.”
He thanked her, looped his scarf around his neck, zipped his coat and donned his gloves.
Now that he’d had a chance to study the unique scent, it was easy to follow its path along the storefronts of Center Street.
Pishmuck, Michigan, was a small town with a big reputation for artistry, craftsmanship and atmosphere. Even on a chilly day like this, tourists and shoppers wandered from store to store. The wind, carrying the savory fragrance, caressed his skin and tousled his hair like flirtatious fingers. It led him to the windows of an art gallery, then to a cleverly carved bear statue outside a toy store. It continued down the sidewalk, finally drifting into the sheltered entrance under a sign brightly painted with the word “Festivities”.
Max didn’t hesitate. He opened the door, stepped into the store and was overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of Christmas. This place had come a long way in the last few years. Thandi Worden had started with a floral shop specializing in tropical plants, which she grew and tended in a greenhouse out back. She eventually purchased several adjoining storefronts and filled them with all sorts of doo-dads and furniture. Festivities had become a valuable asset to Pishmuck, drawing visitors to town specifically to see the fabulous displays, buy the pricey collectibles, and consult with Thandi’s design staff.
The scent Max followed wound all through the place. He started to the right and made a circuit through the complex displays, aware of his size and careful to keep from knocking into any of the shelves, tables or visitors. Thandi manned the register and chatted to paying customers, but her eyes locked on him across the room. He waved and kept moving. An archway led to an area where an entire miniature city of ceramic buildings was on display. He might have enjoyed looking at all the details if he weren’t so focused on finding the source of the enticing scent.
A few more steps brought him to a room lined with shelves filled with more of the porcelain buildings and figurines. The savory aroma was a strong, silent tempest centering on the only other person in the room: a man perched atop a rolling ladder. He was arranging mini trees and fluffy cotton among the little houses on the top shelf, but his busy hands stilled when Max stopped in the center of the room. He turned to face Max, but didn’t say a word. He simply stared at Max as if bewitched.
For his part, Max took in the man from his short blond hair to his square-toed shoes. He noticed the blue eyes, slightly almond-shaped; full lips; strong neck. The blond wore a dark sweater that hugged his well-muscled torso and strong arms. The rounded globes of his ass filled out his black slacks. He was strikingly beautiful. Max knew everyone who lived and worked in Pishmuck, at least by sight, which meant that the man on the ladder had arrived while Max was away.
It was the scent of this man that Max had been compelled to follow. He dropped the bag of pastries without a thought and took the steps that brought him within arm’s reach. The other man stepped down from the ladder and with his feet on solid ground, he stood a few inches shorter than Max’s own six-foot-four.
“I’m Max Erion,” Max said.
“Conor Matheson.” He tilted his head as if to study Max, but otherwise stayed perfectly still.
With Conor’s neck exposed that way, Max couldn’t keep himself from leaning in. As soon as their bodies touched he knew why the scent had been so intriguing. Conor was his mate.
Max’s heart pounded; he fought the urge to circle Conor, sniff him up and down and rub all over him. A true mate bond was immediate, impossible to ignore, and difficult to control because it was not only strong but rare and therefore treasured. It occurred less frequently now than in older days. Max could count on one hand the couples he knew that were true mates.
Max clutched Conor’s biceps and nuzzled his neck. Conor stretched and shivered, as if waking from a deep sleep. “Oh, such a feeling,” he whispered. His hands settled against Max’s chest. “I want…” He gazed into Max’s eyes. “I hardly know what I want.”
Max nipped gently at Conor’s skin then caressed it with a long lick. He asked Conor the questions that echoed the ones he already answered for himself. “Do you feel like your heart is filled with something you didn’t even know you’d been missing? Are you wishing we could rip each other’s clothes off and fuck like crazy right here and now?”
Conor nodded and moaned in response.
“Are you wondering how you’ll get through the rest of the day if we let go of each other?”
“Yes. Jesus.” Conor leaned back a bit to look at Max again. “I don’t even know you and I - my heart…tells me I belong with you? I dated a guy for almost a year and never felt like this with him.” He ran his fingers over Max’s cheekbone and jaw. “I want to know everything there is to know about you, but I already know you more than anyone.” Conor shook his head and pushed away from Max. “This hardly seems real.”
Bewilderment, disbelief and wonder crossed Conor’s features in succession, but his dilated pupils and the pretty bulge in his pants told Max that Conor was turned on, too. He didn’t resist when Max reached out and pulled him close.
“I can explain. But it’s a long story.” Max’s own thoughts and emotions were jumbled but above all he knew the truth of the situation.
Voices from the next room became clearer as customers made their way to this part of the store.
“I have to get back to work,” Conor said, but didn’t make a move.
Not what Max wanted to hear right then, especially with Conor’s hands on his shoulders. “What time are you done here?”
“I’m closing tonight. I’ll probably be here until nine.”
“I’ll be back. I’ll explain everything then.” Max cradled Conor’s face in his hands and gave him a gentle kiss. A brush of the lips that was a promise for more. Conor sighed as they pulled apart and Max had to fight the instinct that compelled him to hoist the man over his shoulder and carry him to the nearest cave. Or broom closet.
“All right. I’ll be here.” They each took another step back. Max felt the draw between them like iron to an insistent magnet. The customers were closer, if the sound of their voices was any indication. Max nearly stepped on his bag of croissants in his retreat. He picked it up and hurried out of the room before he could change his mind.
Max managed to finish the shopping he needed to do to restock his house with food and drink and all the other things required by daily life. He even stopped on the way home and bought a Christmas tree. He’d cleaned thoroughly before he left on assignment, so he only needed to wipe off the dust that had accumulated in his absence to make the place presentable. Conor would be coming here with him tonight - he didn’t even question it. And if everything went Max’s way, Conor would be moving in tomorrow. To fill the time before he headed back to town, Max dug several boxes of Christmas decorations out of his attic and started to put up some of the garland. He thought about going for a run, but worried that he was too wound up to manage his wolf. He didn’t want to show up in town in full fur, growling at a shop full of breakable and expensive items. He wrapped a few strands of lights around the tree and ended up back at Festivities just as the last customer left. He slipped in the door just as Conor turned off the “open” sign.
They each reached for the other at the same time; they shared a welcoming kiss that would easily have become more if Conor hadn’t shaken himself loose.
“Just let me lock up. I’ll keep thinking about it if I don’t.”
Max gave a quick nod. It was so hard to be reasonable when your body was screaming its need. He paced to the back of the store while Conor darted from one room to another. Lights went out, locks clicked into place. Max found the office and took his coat off. He wasn’t going anywhere until he at least had a taste of Conor.
The man in question appeared at the door. “I have to check the greenhouse. Come with me.”
Max didn’t need to be asked twice. He took the proffered hand and let himself be led to the glass-encased room.
Plants of all shapes and sizes filled the greenhouse and created a leafy barrier between the real world outside and the tropical fantasy inside. Wind rattled the glass, making the tiny Christmas lights twinkle along the roofline. Conor pulled Max through a path lined with waxy leaves and trailing vines, until they ended up in a space occupied by a workbench and a few stools.
Conor shoved the stools under the counter, turned toward Max and finally stopped moving. “I want you.” He gripped Max’s shirt and pulled until their lips mashed together in a bruising kiss. Max slid his hands under Conor’s sweater, and the man seemed to melt a little, pressing his body even closer.
It might have been the general state of the greenhouse or maybe the effect of Conor’s kiss, but the heat was getting to Max. He was intent on kissing Conor, but he wanted that sweater off, and somehow he managed it.
Conor’s chest was hairless and hard and the ridges of his abs stood out enough for Max to trace. He leaned down to circle one tight nipple with his tongue and realized that his own shirt was gone.
“God, you’re hot,” Conor whispered as he reached for Max’s belt. Max stood up straight and popped open Conor’s button. They kissed and fondled and rubbed but still their pants stayed on. Conor tugged. “Off. Now.”
“Wait.” Max couldn’t believe that was his voice talking. “Wait. We should…shouldn’t we?” Even if he couldn’t form complete sentences he wasn’t a complete animal, now was he?
Conor groaned. “I know there’s something odd and amazing going on here. I get that. I trust that you’re going to explain it to me. But if you make me wait any longer, when I’ve been half-hard since this morning, I might kill you before you ever have a chance to tell me the details.” He surprised Max by stepping back and kicking off his shoes. “Get naked. It’s hot in here.” Conor proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing.
Max had thought that a human would find the mate attraction frightening, but Conor was eager and in the end Max wasn’t going to argue. Now, with every inch of pale skin that Conor revealed, Max’s excitement climbed. He started to yank off his own pants, then remembered he had to untie his boots to get them off. “Damn it.”
Conor chuckled at Max as he pulled his feet out of the boots and socks and the rest followed, but the laughter fled when Max growled, picked Conor up and sat him on the long wooden counter. God, the man was built, but he was just a bit smaller than Max, and Max liked that. He liked being the larger partner but hated feeling like he was overpowering the other man. He stood between Conor’s legs and circled his arms around him. Conor’s skin was almost cool in comparison to the heat of his lips as Max covered them with his own.
Not that there had been any doubt in Max’s mind, but the way they fit together, the mutual excitement, the taste he couldn’t get enough of, the connection that seemed to hum between them - all confirmed that this man was his true mate.
Max gasped as Conor’s hard cock touched his belly and left a wet drop. Max reached between them and took both cocks in hand, rubbing them together, their pre-cum easing the way. Conor moaned into Max’s mouth, the kisses not stopping, and pushed up into his hold.
“Not gonna last very long,” Conor murmured.
“Me neither.” Max felt Conor’s hand join his on their pricks, sliding along, squeezing.
Their bodies rubbed together in all the right places as their hips rolled. Max buried his face in the crook of Conor’s neck. He wanted so much to bite, to claim, to possess, but he settled for immersing himself in Conor’s scent. Conor pressed his cheek against Max’s head. Their breathing came in stutters and their muscles clenched with the final throes of orgasm overtaking them. Cum spurted between them, coating Conor’s bare torso and sticking to Max’s coarse hair.
“God,” Max said as a few shudders made his back twitch. “That was amazing.”
Conor nodded. “I’ve never been that out of control, ever.”
“I liked it.” Max kissed him before pulling away to look at the mess between them. “But, ugh.”
Conor laughed. “There’s a sink in here.” He hopped down off the counter and padded to a corner of the room. Max heard water running and Conor reappeared with both wet and dry paper towels. He rubbed the wet ones over Max’s stomach. “You are so gorgeous,” he told Max as he caressed the indentations of his abs, and ran his hands up over his pecs. Max had never been one to preen, but right now he wanted to strut like a peacock.
He took the towels out of Conor’s hands and returned the favor. They both dried off and got dressed.
“So now you can tell me what’s happening,” Conor said.
“Okay. Is it all right with you if we go somewhere else? It’s like a hothouse in here.”
Conor rolled his eyes, but he smiled - a good sign. “You’re a funny guy.” He walked toward the door that led back to the store. “Let’s get our coats. Where do you want to go?”
Max followed him. “How about Bode & Son?”
“The little bar on East Street?”
“That’s the one.”
Bode & Son Tavern was friendly and dark, with plenty of tables in quiet nooks. Max led the way to a spot near the back, tucked along a side wall. The wooden table had hosted many years of customers leaving etched names or initials on its surface. It was small enough that Max and Conor could sit across from each other yet knock heads if they leaned in.
They relaxed until their waitress delivered two winter ales and a bowl of peanuts. Conor unshelled a nut and popped it in his mouth. “Okay. Spill,” he said, resting his elbows on the table.
Max fiddled with his mug. He was not the smoothest of talkers on his best day. Now, with something this important, he felt like he wouldn’t be able to talk without sounding like an idiot. He took a sip of his drink. “Well. Um. How much do you know about Pishmuck? I mean, you’ve only lived here a month or so, right?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“I’ve been out of town for the last eight weeks. If you’d been here before that, I would have known.”
Conor studied him, squinting his eyes. “I know a lot about Pishmuck. You’re right that I haven’t been here very long, but I did my research before I moved. And besides that, Thandi has been my best friend since the first week of college. I probably know more than a lot of people do about this place.”
Max had forgotten that Thandi went out west to school. Like most of their kind, she’d come back and put roots down near the pack’s settlement. It was rare for one of them to leave permanently. On the flip side, Pishmuck had lots of visitors, but seldom did anyone decide to stay. “Why did you move here?” It wasn’t what Max intended to say, but he wasn’t always good with detouring his thoughts from his mouth.
Conor took a drink of his ale. “After college, I got a decent job in interior design, and after that I got into set design. Then I sort of hopped around, relocating, thinking the next gig would be the one I’d be happy with, but instead everything just fell short. I couldn’t get comfortable, you know?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that feeling.” Boy, was he ever. Except he’d never had the urge to leave home to deal with it.
“One night when Thandi and I were talking on the phone, she mentioned that she was buying yet another storefront, and that she wanted to do the whole place up big time for the Christmas season.” Conor picked a few peanuts out of the dish and started prying the shells off. “We started hashing out ideas - we do that a lot and usually get pretty enthused about it - then she got real quiet. I asked if I’d said something that bothered her. She asked me if I wanted to move out here and work with her. And just like that, it felt right. I hardly gave it a minute’s thought; I just said ‘yes’ and here I am.”
“Just like that?” Max asked.
Conor snapped his fingers. “Just like that.” He brushed aside the mess of shells and leaned close to Max. “And I know where this is going. So let’s not drag it out, okay?”
Max wasn’t sure they were on the same page, but he was hopeful. “Okay.” He pulled in closer to Conor. “If you know Pishmuck, and you know Thandi as well as you say, then you know there’s a wolf pack here…”
Conor interrupted. “Wolf shifters. I know, Max. And you’re one of them. And we’re mates. True mates, right?”
Max blinked a few times. “Well, shit, just take the wind out of my sails.”
“If I waited for your wind, we’d be here all night.” Conor looked at Max from under his long lashes and smiled just enough to make the dimple in his right cheek appear. “I can think of better things to do.”
“I can’t believe you’re so calm about this.” Max’s own heart was beating wildly, and he fought the urge to drag Conor from the bar and do him in the alley.
“Thandi and I talked a lot about it after I got here. She knows things.” He tapped his head. “She has a sense about people and relationships. She’d told me about the shifters a long time ago. When she asked me to move here, it wasn’t just because we’re friends. She saw us - you and me - together.” Conor reached out to lace his fingers through Max’s.
“She saw us?” He looked at their joined hands. This whole day had been made up of all sorts of surprises.
“Yes, she did. But that little bugger didn’t give me the whole scoop until I was moved in and designing displays for her store. And even then she didn’t tell me your name.”
“And when you saw me, when you were standing on the ladder…?”
“I knew. I’d never seen you until that moment and as soon as you came into the room I felt like angel wings were caressing me. And when we touched,” he squeezed Max’s hands, “the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.”
Max freed one hand to grab his mug and took a gulp of his ale. “So why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“Even though Thandi and I talked about it, and I sort of knew what might happen, that still wasn’t enough to make the reality any less surprising. That and I didn’t want to scare you.” He smirked, but looked like he was trying not to.
“Yeah. You looked a little freaked out.”
Max wanted to argue the point. He was a wolf, for crying out loud. But… “Finding your true mate is a big deal. It’s legendary and there aren’t a lot of wolves who get to have that. When we’re young, we dream about it, like humans dream about meeting their handsome prince and riding off on a white horse. When we get older, we come to terms with it being just a fantasy. So maybe I did freak. A little. But I’m over it.”
“Good.” Conor swallowed the rest of his drink. “Take me home.”
Max was glad he’d managed to put up a few of his decorations and his tree, even if it was still bare. It made the place seem more homey and welcoming. It was more a cabin than a house, really, but it provided all the creature comforts. After he tossed his coat on a hook and his boots on the mat, he threw a couple of logs in the fireplace, along with some kindling.
Conor looked around as he peeled off his coat and kicked off his boots. “This is nice. Very comfy.” He turned to Max. “I feel right at home.”
Max lit the fire and made sure it got a good start. “You look like you belong here.” He stalked toward Conor, stopping when they stood chest to chest. He rested his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “This is your home now too. We’ll move your stuff tomorrow.” Having Conor here in his territory made Max all kinds of possessive.
“Is it odd that hearing that doesn’t bother me in the least?” Conor gripped Max’s waist. He tilted his head up a bit to place little kisses on Max’s jaw. In between kisses he said, “That I’m ready to follow you anywhere?”
“No,” Max said. “It’s perfect.” He sniffed Conor’s neck, taking in the scent he would never tire of. “You’re perfect.” He nipped lightly, and licked at Conor’s skin, making his way under his chin to the other side of his neck. “I want to mark you.”
Conor canted his head, opening himself to Max’s ministrations. “Do it.” His grip on Max tightened. “Make sure anyone who sees me will know I’m yours.”
That was the absolutely best thing Conor could have said, and Max almost came in his pants right there. He looked into Conor’s eyes, knew the truth of his words and felt a growl start deep in his chest. “Get naked. I’ll be right back.” He started to turn away, but stopped and said, “You know we don’t need condoms, right?”
“Because of the wolfy thing?” Conor asked. Max nodded. “Good. I don’t want anything between us.”
Max kissed him, then ran to his bedroom and grabbed a blanket and the bottle of lube.
When he returned, Conor was just dropping his pants and underwear. Max spread the blanket over the rug in front of the fireplace. The tinsel strung across the mantle glittered in the firelight, and in front of that backdrop, Conor looked like an angel. When he dropped to his knees and opened Max’s jeans, a feeling of rightness settled on Max, a sense that he and Conor were two halves that together made one whole. It both humbled and excited him.
Conor drew Max’s jeans and underwear down, with long caresses to his thighs and calves, pulling socks and all off one leg and then the other. Max yanked his own shirt off and tossed it over his back. Conor ran his hands up Max’s legs, from the tops of his feet, over his shins and knees, around the backs of his legs, and then grasped his leaking cock. He looked at Max with a hooded gaze, and slid his lips just over the tip.
Max’s hands went to Conor’s head, but his hair wasn’t long enough to grab onto. Max let loose another growl. “I want you to grow your hair.” With every minute, every motion, every touch, Max felt his dominance assert itself. “I want to be able to yank on it, pull you away or hold you still while I fuck your mouth.”
Conor nodded and shuddered, reached for his own cock.
“Don’t touch that. It’s mine. Put your hands on my hips.”
A moan from Conor vibrated around him, telling Max how much Conor liked that idea, as did the increased sucking and licking. Conor’s tongue circled and stroked as he moved up and down. Max had to pull away; he had other plans for his cock. Even though he let out a frustrated sound, Conor stayed on his knees. Max looked down at him, and felt the wolf rising, pleased with their mate. They so very much wanted to throw him down, to brutally claim him.
Max fought against the animal instinct. Conor was his mate, but he was human and while Max wanted to be rough, he didn’t want to truly hurt him. A few deep breaths brought his control back and he was able to drop to his knees in front of Conor, so they were face to face. He loved the other man’s puffy lips, the red in his cheeks, and the way his blue eyes were mostly black.
“You like submitting.” Max grasped Conor’s prick and rubbed his thumb over the slit, spreading the pre-cum on the head. With his other hand he tweaked a nipple, squeezing it then tracing gentle circles around it.
Conor arched into his touch. “Yes.” It came out on a breath. “To you. I haven’t been…Ah!” He bucked when Max bent down and bit the other nipple. “Haven’t been inclined before.”
Max let go of Conor’s cock and reached lower to play with his balls. He bit at Conor’s ear. “I want to fuck you.”
“And mark you.”
“Please. I want you to.”
Max leaned away. “Turn around.” He slapped Conor’s ass to help him along, then pushed down between his shoulder blades so he ended up ass high, head low. He ran his hands over Conor’s smooth butt, squeezed his cheeks and pressed his thumbs in toward the little hole. “I could eat you up.” He licked up and down, over the pucker and the crease, wanting all those little nerve endings to be alive and jumping when he went in.
Conor trembled. “I, fuck, no one’s…” He finished with a guttural noise that made perfect sense to Max. He grasped the blanket in his fists, as if to keep from reaching back, like
he didn’t know if he wanted to push away or push into Max’s sweet torture.
“Then I’ll make sure you get that a lot. My lips on your ass, my tongue opening you.” He forced the tip of his tongue into the little pucker, making Conor gasp and try to twist away. He tightened his grip. “ Maybe I’ll tie you down and do it until you scream and beg me to fuck you.” He dragged his tongue in a circle around the hole.
“Jesus,” Conor whispered.
Reaching out, Max found the lube, popped the top and squirted a good amount over Conor’s hole. He smiled as Conor shook when the cool gel hit him. Max inserted two fingers, twisting them back and forth as he pushed into Conor’s channel. “You’re so hot, so tight for me.” Twisting, crooking his fingers, moving them in and almost out. He knew he was hitting the little hot button enough to drive Conor crazy. “I can’t wait much longer.”
Conor made noises that were a cross between whimpering and groaning but were definitely affirmative, with his ass pressing back towards Max.
Max withdrew his fingers, spread lube on his cock, and set the tip at Conor’s entrance. He held tight to Conor’s hips to keep him from impaling himself and ignored Conor’s frustrated moans. Seeing that ass ready and willing to accept him, being in that moment of almost-there, savoring the feel of the hard body under his hands, knowing that this man belonged to him…Max experienced a joy he’d never felt before. With his wolf rising, infusing his power and magic into Max’s spirit, Max lifted his head and howled at the same time as he sank his cock all the way into Conor.
Somewhere in the distance, other joyful howls joined in, the pack already celebrating, urging on the mating pair.
Max pulled out and plunged in again, and Conor thrust back to meet him, shouting. “Yes! So good!” Conor lifted his upper body, braced his hands on the floor and turned his head as far as he could to look at Max with wild eyes. His breathing was ragged. “Harder. Fuck me harder.” He panted. “Need to feel every bit of you.”
Hearing his mate sound so feral aroused Max’s wolf even more; he pounded savagely into Conor, their bond a living thing swirling around and between and in them. Max’s climax built, it burned like fire through him. He pulled Conor up and wrapped a hand around his cock. Conor roared, his hot cum flowing over Max’s fingers. Max pushed up into Conor as he came, letting his own release flood into his mate. Sure and swift, he bit Conor, at the base of his neck where it met his shoulder. The taste of blood, hot and sweet on his tongue, brought a second orgasm to Max, and with that he heard his wolf howling, claiming, calling to Conor’s spirit. The heady aroma of their mating filled the air and they took breaths deep enough to slow their raging heartbeats.
Max nuzzled in and licked the wound he’d left, and when Conor turned toward him they shared a kiss full of magic and power and grace. Max held him until exhaustion settled in. They pulled apart long enough to lie down on the blanket.
“That was incredible,” Conor said. “Totally beyond anything I could have imagined.” He curled himself against Max. “Is it always going to be like that?”
“I don’t think so. The first time is important and intense. I’m not sure we’d survive if it was like that every time.” Max stroked his fingers along Conor’s arm. “Let’s take a nap and then we can go to bed and try again. See what happens.”
He felt Conor smile against his chest. “I like how you think.”
In time, Max would coax Conor’s wolf from his deep and dormant state. Their bond would only grow stronger. It was written in the wind.