Chapter 9: Your Cock Happened!

Chapter 9

Your Cock Happened!

Drew stirred at last, tugging gently on my wrist to remove my hand from his softening cock. He set my hand on my leg, and then after a moment he let go—slowly, as if he didn’t quite want to.

I realized then that I hadn’t even looked to see if he’d…knotted? I wasn’t sure about the terminology. Turning my head just enough to peek, I opened my eyes. No, his cock looked exactly the same. Huh. Had my hand job not been good enough?

“No knot,” I said without thinking.

Drew went rigid under me again, all his muscles tensing.

“No knot,” he repeated slowly. “Were you expecting one? Ash, look at me.”

Oh, God. I couldn’t possibly look him in the eye and talk about his cock, could I?

Apparently I had to, because Drew carefully took my chin in his fingers and tipped my head up.

His eyes had lost their glow—and they’d lost that crazed look they’d had, too. He seemed to be mostly himself again, even if his flushed cheeks contrasted oddly with his too-serious expression.

“Ash?”

I licked my lips, feeling horribly, sink-through-the-floor-and-escape shy. Drew’s eyes flicked down and then back up. And held mine. He wasn’t going to let this go.

Shit.

“I did some research? Um, once I figured out that you’d had the safe search on that laptop. Which, I mean, did you think I was going to look at porn or something? I’m amnesiac, not a child—”

“Ash!”

I stuttered and blinked into silence.

“Research?” Drew went on, in a tone of voice I couldn’t interpret at all. “You did research on my dick? This wasn’t—you planned this. You were planning to do this.”

And why oh why couldn’t the amnesia have hit after I had to answer the question, You did research on my dick?

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I was—Drew, you can’t go out and get laid. Your family would kill me if they found out we’re not actually mated. Literally. And you’ve taken care of me. It was my turn to take care of you, okay?”

“Your turn to take care of me,” he repeated, still in that weird tone. “Ash, I—you shouldn’t have had to do this. You never should’ve felt like this was something you had to do to keep yourself safe. From them, or from me.”

Embarrassment fled, replaced by the burning need to make him understand. Because I could tell he’d started on the outer ring of a total shame spiral, and he’d be circling the center any second now.

“I didn’t, I wasn’t—Drew. I wanted to.” I stared into those dark, gorgeous eyes and willed him to believe me. “I wanted to. I thought about it while you were out last night. I was planning to offer when you came back. Talk about it. A friendly hand job isn’t a big deal for me.” Only it was, and it hadn’t felt friendly, exactly, not with me sprawled across Drew’s lap and his arm wrapped around me. Moving on, shit. “But you know. Things happened,” I finished in a rush.

“Things.”

“Are you going to repeat every goddamn thing I say? Yes. Things. Your cock, okay? Your cock happened!”

Drew stared at me open-mouthed, his eyes gone impossibly wide. “My—” he choked out. “My cock—happened—” And then his chest started to shake, and he turned bright red, and he lost it, laughing so hard he nearly launched me off his lap. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so fucking sorry—”

I collapsed against him, putting my face back in his shoulder, because it felt so warm and he smelled so good, giggles welling up irrepressibly until I was howling along with him.

It took a while, but finally, once my eyes were watering and my cheeks were on fire, it subsided. Drew wheezed, I hiccupped, and we both slumped into the chair, spent in more ways than one.

He’d put both arms around me to keep me from falling off, and I’d ended up curled into him, head resting comfortably, my own arms tucked against his chest.

Not for the first time, I wished I could know what it would be like to be with Drew with all of my senses fully engaged. I’d had that thought more than once as we lay in bed together. Would I feel something more than simple coziness?

Snuggled down in his lap like this, I knew I’d have felt more than the limp relaxation that came from letting go of too much tension all at once. I knew it.

And I couldn’t.

I couldn’t help the sigh I let out, either.

“I’m sorry,” Drew mumbled into my hair. When had his head come to rest against mine? I was so wrapped up in him I could hardly tell where he ended and I began. “This is so fucked up. I know you said you wanted to do this. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still feel like I forced you. To avoid something worse, if nothing else.”

“You really, really didn’t. I wanted to.” I poked him in the chest to emphasize my point, and he let out an exaggerated oof and hugged me even tighter, making me do it again. Right. Like a little poke had hurt a big bad alpha werewolf. “If I didn’t want to, I would’ve found some other way. I wouldn’t stay here and get you off out of obligation.”

Although I totally, totally would, and he probably knew it.

“Uh-huh.” He managed to pack a lot of skepticism into those two syllables. “Ash, you really believe you don’t have any other choice. And honestly, maybe you don’t.” He sounded utterly grim, and there went the mood.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I snuggled deeper into his chest, trying to show him without words that I didn’t mind if this was my only option.

“I could give you enough money to let you get pretty far away, find somewhere to start over, as long as you didn’t get spotted by law enforcement,” Drew said after a minute. “My family probably wouldn’t bother looking for you if I told them the mating bond had broken. As long as they didn’t think you were going to blackmail them. Shit. This is sounding worse and worse, isn’t it? Fuck.”

I couldn’t help laughing a little. “Yeah, that sounds great. Besides, I don’t want to leave. We’re in this together.”

“Except that you’re in danger as long as you—mmph!”

I sat up and slapped a hand over his mouth, staring him down. “Get this through your thick head, Drew. I. Don’t. Care. I want to stay. I want us to figure this out. Do you understand? Stop wallowing and start thinking!”

Drew’s lips moved against my palm, and then his tongue flicked out—and I yelped, jerking my hand away.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a sigh.

“See that you do.” I raised one eyebrow at him, as high as I could get it. “Now I’m hungry. And you probably need to get cleaned up. You know, aside from what we did. You have a lot of moss in your hair.”

With a grimace, Drew gently detached from me and set me on my feet. I missed his warmth instantly.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a few,” he said, and left the bedroom, shutting himself into the bathroom across the hall.

For a long minute, I stared at the closed door, listening to the rattle of the shower door and the whoosh of the water.

He’d come in my hand. I rubbed my fingers together, making a face at the faint stickiness of Drew’s drying semen. He’d come in my hand, and he might be jerking off again in the shower right now, and I wanted to get in and do it for him. Especially if it meant he might hold me again.

My face and neck burning, I headed for my own bathroom to get cleaned up. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a needy, pathetic whiner once I’d brushed my teeth.

Or maybe I’d just be a needy, pathetic whiner with clean teeth. Well, better than pathetic and also smelly.

***

We had some breakfast, and we didn’t talk about it. More, anyway. I personally thought we’d talked about it more than enough already, but Drew’s frowns and abstracted air made me think he might be gearing up for another round.

But after breakfast, we still didn’t talk about it.

“I’ve been slacking on looking into your past for you,” he said abruptly as I settled down on the couch for a couple of hours of doing nothing. “I’ve been—my mind hasn’t been where it should’ve been. I’m going to work on that now.”

And without waiting for a reply, he went into his office and shut the door.

Okay, well, if I’d been hoping for a more open, communicative Drew, apparently I shouldn’t have been. He definitely seemed calmer, though. Subdued, even.

Had it been that crappy of a hand job?

That was probably my own insecurity talking.

I flopped back on the couch and opened up my borrowed laptop. I couldn’t drive myself crazy thinking about this anymore. Instead, I pulled up one of the movie streaming services Drew had installed for me and lost myself in mindless nonsense, putting in a pair of earbuds I’d found buried in the couch cushions.

I lost myself a lot more effectively than I’d expected, because when I looked up from—Christ, my sixth episode of some faux-documentary-style show about snarky grocery store employees with improbably good hair—Drew stood before me on the other side of the coffee table with his eyebrows raised, and the sun had moved enough to be slanting in through the west-facing windows rather than coming from the east.

The earbuds came out with a quick yank, and I scrabbled to press pause with my other hand.

“Earth to Ash,” he said, and it sounded like that wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to me. Actually, he sounded a little…well, bitchy. “Are you going to want lunch, or what?”

Take the high road, Ash. Be the bigger man.

Drew definitely had me beat as far as bigger—in every dimension—and that thought made me choke on a burst of laughter.

He glared at me, and I cleared my throat. “Yes, please,” I said meekly. “Lunch sounds good.”

Drew left for the kitchen without another word, and I thoughtfully set the laptop aside and sat there, staring into space and giving him a minute. Okay, so clearly we still had a ways to go on the “Get Drew back to normal” plan. Another hand job after lunch? Maybe, but even if I couldn’t feel any soreness in my wrist, I didn’t want to end up with carpal tunnel.

And he hadn’t knotted, which maybe meant he hadn’t gotten enough relief. Could I ask him? No, because I might die from embarrassment. The answer could be that he didn’t like me enough.

But there were other ways to get him off, and I could think of those without having to ask him. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? And I’d liked touching him. Surely it wouldn’t be that different with a different part of my body.

I licked my lips, imagining what that big cock might feel like passing between them. His taste wouldn’t come through, and maybe that would be a good thing—I didn’t know how I’d react to semen. Although the texture might be more of a problem than the taste would’ve been. His cock would probably be a lot like my finger, wouldn’t it? Firm, with smooth skin on it. I slipped a finger into my mouth and sucked on it, adding a second finger after a moment—and then a third, after thinking a bit more about how thick Drew had been in my hand.

Okay, maybe I needed that fourth finger. I tucked my thumb and rubbed my bundled fingers over my tongue, having to stretch my lips open around my hand. It didn’t hurt, of course, but there wasn’t even any discomfort.

Huh, maybe I didn’t have a gag reflex right now. That’d be convenient. Careful not to scratch or bruise myself without noticing, I pushed my fingers deeper, all the way to the back of my throat.

Nothing at all: no sensation beyond a bit of pressure.

A little deeper, and the pressure grew. I had to stretch my mouth open all the way to fit my knuckles.

I’d be on my knees, probably. Would Drew want to stand up? Loom over me, a hand on the back of my head with his fingers tangled in my curls, filling my mouth and thrusting down my throat?

“Ash, lunch is—oh my fucking gods.”

The fingers in my throat partially muffled the whimper I let out as I whipped my head around to see Drew standing a few feet inside the living room near the doorway to the kitchen.

He looked like he’d been flash-frozen, standing there with his body completely rigid and his mouth hanging open. One fist had clenched at his side—with a hint of gleaming claw—and his eyes held that alpha glow again.

Slowly, carefully, I slid my hand out of my mouth. Drew made a sound low in his chest that had all my hackles up, my body tensed in fight-or-flight…as if the crippling, breath-stealing embarrassment wasn’t already enough.

“I was going to say lunch is ready,” Drew said, his voice a nearly subsonic growl. “But it looks like you were already eating your fucking hand.”

The words I wanted to see if I could fit your cock down my throat without choking nearly fell off my tongue.

I bit them back, partly because I didn’t think I could say them without choking. And possibly also dying. Some excuse, there had to be one…

“I had, uh, I had something stuck in my molar.” Oh, very nice. And super believable, Christ. And then the part of my brain that couldn’t stop fucking with me spewed a few more words out, my voice going up a whole octave: “Turns out I don’t have a gag reflex!”

Drew stared at me for a long moment, eyes flashing, his chest rising and falling rapidly enough that I could see it from across the room. Of course, his painted-on T-shirt helped a lot with visibility. Jesus, he had a lot of muscle in his chest.

“I’m going for a run,” he said abruptly, sounding out of breath already.

And then he disappeared into the kitchen again, the back door slamming behind him as he left through the laundry porch.

Hang on, hadn’t that door been broken? I jumped up off the couch and trotted after, wincing as I rubbed my sticky fingers together. First semen, now saliva. Apparently it was bodily fluids day.

When I got through the kitchen, I saw the door rehung in the frame, the splintered wood glued back together or something and the hinges reaffixed.

That made me stop and frown and run through yesterday’s sequence of events, logically and chronologically. We’d both slept in Drew’s bed the night before last, but since then he’d gone out to the woods, spent time in his office, gone out to the woods again, attacked me, spent the night in the woods…and then apparently fixed the door when he got back.

So when the fuck had he slept? Had he slept much the night before, either? Because he’d been up before I even started stirring.

Damn it. This was worse than I’d thought. And clearly a measly hand job hadn’t been effective at all, since he hadn’t gotten even a little bit sleepy afterwards and now he’d gone out racing around the forest again.

Good thing I didn’t have a gag reflex.

I settled back down with the too-groomed supermarket clerks to wait it out.

Drew would have to come back to the house eventually, and when he did…I’d be ready.