Chapter 10: Untethered

Chapter 10

Untethered

Drew didn’t come home until long after dark, an hour after I’d given up on seeing him before the morning.

I’d turned off the laptop ages ago, eaten some dinner without any enthusiasm, taken a long, hot shower, and then come back downstairs to lie on the couch and brood.

The creak of the back door opening made me jump, but then the familiar cadence of Drew’s footsteps had me flopping back into the cushions, my heart still pounding a little. The ceiling lights were off, and the single standing lamp by the end of the couch cast his shadow up against the high wall like something out of a nightmare. He looked good, though, because he always did—even if he could’ve stepped out of a different kind of nightmare, or maybe a horror movie, what with the tears in his shirt and shorts, the bits of leaves caught in his wavy hair, and the dirt smudges and fine scratches on his arms and legs.

The scratches disappeared as I watched, his werewolf healing ability wiping them away like they’d never existed, but his whole appearance made me sit up and blink, peering at him more closely.

“Drew? What the hell happened to you? What happened to your clothes?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like shifting today. My mind works a little differently in my wolf form, and I wanted my human wits about me, I guess.”

Getting himself all filthy and scratched and bruised and ruining his clothes didn’t seem like the peak of human mental functioning to me, but hey, what did I know? Anyway, maybe he deserved a pass, what with the medical-magical experimentation, lack of sleep, and raging alpha hormones.

At least I could try to do something about the last one, and maybe even the second, if I could relax him enough to get a few hours of real REM.

I bent my knees and scooted toward one end of the couch, making room for him. “You should sit down and rest.”

To my surprise, he didn’t argue, just crossed to the couch and dropped down a few inches from my toes, letting his head fall back with a sigh and closing his eyes. With leisure to observe him in repose, I could see the clear signs of exhaustion: the dark shadows under his eyes, and the angular lines of his profile, like he hadn’t been eating enough either.

But he still looked like he could leap into action at any moment, what with the faint tension in his muscles even as he apparently relaxed on the couch. I frowned at him. That tension must be why he couldn’t get to sleep easily, or stay that way for more than a couple of hours at a time.

It seemed silly to want to comfort someone as big and strong and deadly as Drew. But I did. I ached to wrap my arms around him, pull his head onto my too-thin shoulder. Nuzzle my face into all that thick hair, leaves and twigs and all. Would he wrap his arms around my waist in turn? Pull me into his lap?

Speaking of. I glanced down. Even soft, the outline of his cock stood out visibly under those thin gym shorts, the way they stretched across his thighs with his legs sprawled like that. He dressed to the right. I’d noticed that before, no matter how much I tried not to.

Screw it. Cuddling might not be all that helpful, but I could take care of him in other ways.

I reached out and laid my hand on his thigh, squeezing a little.

His eyes cracked open, and he turned his head enough to look at me.

“You shouldn’t be touching me,” he said quietly. He sounded resigned, even beaten, and it made my chest clench. Drew shouldn’t feel like that. I flashed back to that moment in my cell when he’d come to rescue me: bloody and half-naked, fanged and clawed…terrifying in the best possible way. No one who could kick that much ass should feel like that. “You know it doesn’t matter how far and how fast I run. I can’t run away from whatever the fuck they did to me.”

“You seemed okay this morning.” I didn’t move my hand, and he tensed under my fingers. “I mean, sort of? Right?”

Drew made a funny sound, his throat working, and looked away. “Seeing you deep-throat your own fingers and then tell me you didn’t have a gag reflex kind of undid whatever progress I’d made trying to get myself under control, Ash.”

Oh. Right. I cleared my throat. “About that.”

His head whipped back again, and he glared at me. “Ash, whatever you’re about to say—”

“I think you should let me blow you.”

“What?” Drew gaped at me in disbelief. “No! Absolutely not. You jerking me off was bad enough—”

“Bad enough? You want to rephrase that, Drew?” I demanded indignantly. I sat up straight and glared at him.

He sat up too, leaning in, eyes starting to glow. “Not ‘bad’ as in ‘bad,’ Ash, ‘bad’ as in I was taking advantage of you and it’s fucked! I was thinking about it while I ran today. I’ll—fuck, I’ll find another shaman. We’ll take a road trip or something. Fuck my family, I’ll tell them to go to hell, that we need to get away for a while. My parents will have to—whatever, they’ll have to deal with it. Like a honeymoon or something. I’ll—think of something. But I can’t use you—”

“Maybe I want you to?” My voice came out all husky, like I’d been running hard or talking too much.

I’d definitely said too much by the look on his face.

“You want me to.”

“You’re doing that repeating thing again,” I snapped, the effect ruined by how wrecked I sounded. Shit, I hadn’t even gotten his cock in my mouth yet. Shouldn’t I sound like that afterward, not before?

Drew leaned in a fraction more, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

“You want me to use you,” he rasped. “Ash, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Why not?” My hand still rested on his leg, and I slid it up, tracing the hard muscles of his thigh, creeping closer to my goal. Drew practically vibrated under my hand, and I had that swooping sensation again in the pit of my stomach, that thrill of imminent danger. “I’m not an idiot. Amnesiac, yes. Fucked-up, yes. A possible carjacker. But not stupid.”

“No,” he breathed. “Not stupid. Just incredibly fucking reckless. You’re playing with fire, touching me like that.”

And yet he hadn’t stopped me, hadn’t removed my hand from his leg. Hadn’t gotten up off the couch and shut himself into his office or left the house. Because he couldn’t make himself—he didn’t have the willpower to say no and mean it, or to enforce it. Which he obviously could, physically. He’d need one hand to fight me off. Maybe one finger.

My stomach sank, like someone had dropped a lump of lead into it, that swooping thrill all shriveled. Because for the first time, it occurred to me that I might be taking advantage of him. He still hadn’t said anything to make me think he’d want me under normal circumstances. Yeah, he’d given me that bite mark, and I belonged to him according to his alpha instincts, blah blah blah. But would his instincts be operating like that if he hadn’t been changed by whatever they’d done to him? Would he be pushing me away?

“Am I your type?” Oh, God, that couldn’t have been more pathetic. “I mean, if you—would you be attracted to me if—”

His eyes flared gold. “You know how much I fucking want you,” he growled, leaning in even more. Close enough to kiss me, almost.

And I couldn’t kiss him like this. Couldn’t let him kiss me like this, either. Not only because I couldn’t believe he’d actually want it, but because it made me want to scream, thinking about how it would feel—or not feel—to have his lips on mine without being able to taste, to savor, to take the pleasure in it I knew I’d have if I hadn’t been robbed of everything that made life worth living.

“I know you want me right now.” Because he really hadn’t answered my question at all, and he hadn’t seemed to notice that he hadn’t. Maybe he felt the way I did, sort of like nothing existed before we’d come out of our prison, or like none of it mattered anymore.

“Yeah. I do. I want you too goddamn much. You have to stop this, Ash. I can’t. I’m sorry, I fucking can’t.”

He sounded tortured, caught between what he needed and what he thought he shouldn’t have, between his conscience and the demands of his overstrained body, exhausted and run ragged and strung out on adrenaline and guilt.

And that decided it for me.

Drew might hate me after this was over, after we took that road trip and found that shaman, or after the effects of the warlocks’ fuckery wore off naturally with time. Once he got back to himself and realized he’d never really desired me.

But that didn’t matter right now. If he went on like this, with his body running at this level of alpha magic, wearing himself out and never sleeping, he’d get really sick. Or worse.

That thought sent a horrid shiver down my spine.

No, I couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t get worse. He’d get better, because I’d make him better. At least until we could find a competent shaman who wouldn’t report to Drew’s scary mom.

“I don’t need you to stop,” I said, and moved my hand another inch, until my fingers brushed the head of his cock through the fabric of his shorts. “I don’t want you to stop. You’ll feel better if I suck your—oh, God,” I gasped, as he groaned and lunged forward, burying his face in my neck, his tongue flicking out to tease my skin.

His teeth closed around my flesh and worried at me, without enough pressure to injure me—I’d started to be able to gauge that a little bit, even without any sensation of pain—but enough to leave a mark.

When I moved my hand up and closed it around his cock, it thickened and stiffened instantly.

“Drew, let me,” I whispered, and pulled away, edging off the couch and down.

He fell back, spreading his legs to let me settle in between and kneel on the floor with my hands on his thighs. I looked up at him, sprawled there all disheveled and flushed and still streaked with forest detritus, like some kind of…well, the T-shirt and the gym shorts ruined the wildness a little bit. Like a camouflaged predator—a wolf in an overgrown frat boy’s clothing. I almost laughed, but then he tugged down his waistband and pulled out his cock, huge and shiny at the tip, with the vein on the underside standing out with how freaking hard he’d gotten. My nervous chuckle died in my chest.

That was going to go in my mouth, and even if I’d had most of my hand stuffed in there earlier, I seriously didn’t think it would fit.

I’d make it fit, dammit.

“You don’t have to,” Drew said, and I could see what it cost him to try to be a better man by the tension in him, the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

What did he need to hear so that he wouldn’t feel guilty? Because I was more convinced than ever that I probably wanted this more than he did, if you only counted how we’d feel without any outside intervention.

He’d liked it, earlier—God, it felt like years ago, but it’d only been this morning—when I’d been submissive, passive, when I’d been something for him to use. My hands tightened on his legs. I’d liked it, too. Because I couldn’t take pleasure in this, not the way you were supposed to. I couldn’t feel it.

Kind of like a sex toy couldn’t feel it.

That would be okay.

Maybe it made me crazy, but that would be more than okay. To know that everything I did, he’d directed me to do, that I didn’t have to take responsibility for doing it wrong.

I’d even admitted it out loud a few minutes ago, when I said I wanted him to use me.

And he hadn’t reacted like someone turned off by the idea. Horrified, maybe. But not turned off. Horrified that it turned him on?

I shuffled forward on my knees and leaned down until his cock was right there, an inch from my face. Drew’s breaths came hoarse and heavy from above me. I set my mouth against the base of his cock, sucking lightly, almost the way he’d put his mouth on my neck but without any teeth, and I flicked my tongue out, teasing at the skin right between his cock and his balls.

Drew let out an agonized-sounding groan, and his free hand landed on the nape of my neck, fingers tunneling up into my hair.

Yes, please, yes, and I moaned as I dragged my tongue up his shaft, savoring the softness of his skin and the furnace heat of the hard flesh beneath.

He guided me up, and up, inch after inch, until my tongue traced the ridge at the base of the glans. And then I opened my mouth as wide as I could and wrapped my lips around him.

“Ash, fucking gods,” he gasped, and thrust up, his cockhead bumping the roof of my mouth.

He felt so big. Thicker than my hand, somehow, even though that couldn’t possibly be true. Hotter and more alive. Maybe because I could control my hand, but I couldn’t control him. And I didn’t want to. I wanted him to thrust harder and deeper.

For that to work, I had to change the angle, so I got a hand around him, tilted him more toward my throat, and shifted my approach.

And there. I pushed myself down, and his cock shoved over my tongue and down, into me, stuffed into my throat. I could feel the stretch of it, the pressure and the thickness. For the first time, I didn’t mind that my nerves couldn’t transmit any of the pain or pleasure, or both, that they had to be receiving. If I could feel this properly, then I might have to stop. It might not be possible for me to do it at all. And I wanted to. I wanted to let Drew take what he needed.

Drew’s hand tightened in my hair, the other letting go of his cock to wrap around the back of my neck in its place so that he held me down completely. He didn’t need to guide himself into my mouth anymore. He’d lodged there so firmly he wouldn’t dislodge.

I opened up and slid down as far as I could, my eyes watering, the corners of my lips pulled taut, and hoped he could take a hint.

He moaned and thrust, taking the hint along with another couple of inches of my throat. I closed my eyes and relaxed my muscles, and he gained another inch, maybe. It didn’t matter. He could go as deep as he wanted, as deep as he could possibly fill me. Everything seemed distant, like I’d floated up untethered from the physical world, anchored only by Drew’s cock spearing into me. His hips thrust up and his hands held me in place, and I existed in between, a hot, wet, tight space for him to make his own.

It went on and on, hypnotic: deep, plunging pressure distending my throat, and then a gasp for a breath of air, and then another thrust, until finally Drew’s rhythm faltered and his movements sped up, hands clenching in my hair and around my neck, shoving me down onto his cock. His groans echoed through the hollow emptiness in me where my will used to be, filling me as perfectly as he filled my mouth and throat.

Drew shuddered, thrust even more deeply, and stayed there—and wet heat spurted down my throat, his cock pulsing and stiffening even more.

He held me there while his spasms subsided. My head went light from lack of oxygen, but it didn’t matter; it made me even floatier, drifting off into the sky.

Finally the pressure eased and I could breathe, but everything stayed at a distance.

Movement, my legs lifting off the floor, my head spinning, and then I slowly started to come back to myself. My head on Drew’s shoulder, with my body curled up in his lap and his arms locked around me, all hard muscle and possessive care. His heart beat under my ear, strong and steady, although his breaths were still as ragged as mine.

Drew rested his face against my hair. That had to have been a kiss, didn’t it? That little motion I’d felt? Drew had kissed me, and I smiled into his shoulder. I’d been so light before, and now I’d gotten so heavy I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move again.

It didn’t matter at all. Drew would take care of me, the way I’d taken care of him. The way he’d been taking care of me since the moment I first laid eyes on him.

“Gods, what did I do,” Drew muttered into my hair. “Ash, baby? Look at me, will you?”

Moving my head sounded hard, but Drew wanted me to. And I wanted to look at him; who wouldn’t?

I managed to tip my head back against his shoulder and peek up at his worried face.

“Did that feel good?” It came out slurred, but I knew he’d understand me.

“It shouldn’t have. But it felt—better than anything I’ve ever felt,” he said, reluctantly but in a rush, like the words were being dragged out of him. “It’s wrong, Ash.”

“Did you want that, though? Using my mouth like that?”

Drew shuddered. “It’s wrong.” But by the way his eyes dropped to my lips, no doubt swollen and red, and the expression in them…no, I wasn’t letting this go until he admitted it.

“Did you want it?”

“Fuck. Yeah, I wanted it.” He let out a shaky laugh. “Want doesn’t cover it.”

“So did I. So how is it wrong if we both wanted that?”

Drew gathered me closer, holding me like he never meant to let me go. If only.

“How can you want me to treat you like that, though?” he breathed. “You couldn’t.”

His eyes held mine, and I almost got lost in those nearly-black depths. “But I do, Drew.” I shrugged the best I could given his grip on me. “I lo—liked it. I want you to do it again.”

The look in his eyes overwhelmed me, and I tucked my head back down against his shoulder. That put his collarbone and the strong column of his neck right in front of me. Mmm. I tilted my head and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, the scent of him making my head spin. Thank God I still had that. If I hadn’t even been able to inhale him…

Drew shifted under me, another shudder going through him. Was that…? Yeah, his cock had already recovered. I kissed him again, letting my lips linger on the throbbing pulse in his neck.

“Ash, you’re going to fucking kill me,” he groaned. With a lack of effort I couldn’t help finding delightful, he stood up without so much as jostling me, taking me with him cradled against his chest. “I need a shower. And you need to go to bed.”

I didn’t argue, closing my eyes and letting him carry me away upstairs. If he still had an erection after his shower, I’d deal with it then. In the meantime, bed sounded amazing.