12. Riley

12

RILEY

"Stand up," Brandon said, voice wrecked.

Riley obeyed, knowing Brandon could see just how aroused he was by what they had done.

"Take off your jeans. Give me a show."

That command sent a frisson of desire through Riley that nearly ended things before they got started.

He let his hips sway as he slowly unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside. He had never stripped for anyone before, but he'd seen a lot of videos and gone to a couple of clubs in Rochester.

Riley danced to the music in his mind, humming softly. He toed his socks off and pushed his jeans down, letting them fall to the floor before kicking them aside. Then he turned around, shaking his ass, doing some deep squats, and pushing up, ass-first, right in front of Brandon.

He wants a show? I can do that.

Riley turned back to face Brandon and let his hands run over his chest. He stopped to tease his nipples, still swaying his hips in a private dance. He kept his left hand busy with his nipples while the right slid down and stroked his cock through his briefs.

"Take them off and touch yourself."

Riley discovered that this new assertive side of Brandon turned him on. He expected them to switch once they could finally do anal, and he liked to trade off roles, but Riley was finding out he liked a bossy moose.

His breath caught as he slid his briefs over his throbbing cock. If I can't last and lose it all over him, will he be turned on or mad? Might not have a choice about it—so damn close.

He realized that his worry was another unwelcome leftover from Tate and did his best to push those thoughts from his mind.

Riley kicked his underwear aside. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and slowly stroked from base to tip, taking his time because he could feel his climax building.

"So goddamn sexy," Brandon growled. He slid off his chair to kneel in front of Riley and batted his hands out of his way.

Brandon's big hands palmed Riley's ass, each one claiming a globe with a squeeze as he pulled him closer. He went down on Riley in one move, taking him all the way to the root and constricting his throat.

That did it. Riley shouted Brandon's name as he came, his release pulsing down Brandon's throat. He wasn't sure he could have remained standing if Brandon's grip on his ass hadn't kept him upright. At the height of his climax, Brandon palmed his cheeks apart and slid a finger down his crack and into his hole.

His orgasm seemed to come in waves and last forever. Finally spent, Riley's knees buckled. Brandon caught him as he fell, going to the floor with him cradled against Brandon's muscled chest.

It took Riley a couple of minutes to form words. That left him in a floaty place of sensation, and he became aware of feelings washing over him. Love. Protection. Fondness. Lust. Loyalty.

He didn't hear words, but the emotions came through loud and clear. He tried to think the same things back at Brandon, unsure what it would take to ease the mental silence between them.

"Shh. I hear you." Brandon pushed a sweaty lock of hair out of Riley's eyes. "I feel what you're sending. And it's enough." He leaned in to kiss Riley, letting him taste himself on Brandon's lips.

"When you bite me, is it going to be even more intense?" The world narrowed to just the two of them lying tangled together on the cabin floor.

"That's what they say," Brandon replied in a throaty whisper.

"I might not survive," Riley chuckled, "but what a way to go."

A week later, Riley went for his check-up.

"Cleared for active duty," he told Brandon from his phone when he left the hospital. "We can make up for lost time."

Riley walked into the kitchen and saw a red heart-shaped helium balloon floating above the table, which held a bouquet of roses and a cake made out of a Twinkie and two strategically-placed cupcakes at one end to look like a cock and balls.

"Happy Fuckability Day!" Brandon tossed a handful of penis-shaped confetti in the air. Then Riley realized Brandon wore nothing but an apron.

He started laughing, touched by the gesture and, at the same time, aware of how totally bonkers it all was. "This is…amazing. I feel very desired."

"You're wearing way too many clothes," Brandon growled. "Let's take this party to the bedroom. Here. Let me help."

Brandon took Riley in his arms and kissed him until Riley was panting for air. The thin apron did nothing to hide Brandon's erection, and by then, Riley was sporting a boner too.

"Don't need this." Brandon lifted the hem of Riley's shirt and tugged it over his head. He kissed his way down Riley's neck, stopping to lightly nip and lick at the hickey before running his hands along Riley's sides, down his chest, over his taut nipples, and down his back.

"Still too many clothes." Brandon held Riley close with his left arm while he undid his belt with his right hand and pushed jeans and underwear down far enough that Riley could step out of them as he toed off his socks.

"Much better."

Riley loosened the tie of Brandon's apron and slipped it over his head. "Now we're even."

Brandon walked Riley backward into the bedroom as they continued to kiss and fondle. They fell onto the bed, intertwined, barely pausing long enough to breathe.

"I don't want long and slow this time," Riley panted as Brandon slipped a hand between his legs, stroking his cock. "I want you."

"Need to make it good for you. I've got to get you ready."

Riley gave him a smug grin. "Are you sure about that?"

Brandon slipped a finger along Riley's taint to his hole and found it slick with lube and filled with a sizable butt plug.

"I'm impressed." He barely hid a chuckle. "Guess I don't need to ask if you're sure."

"More mating, less talking. Fuck me and bite me. Let's get with the program."

Riley slipped off to the bathroom to remove the butt plug, and while he was gone, Brandon pulled back the covers, slipping into bed to await his return. Riley paused in the doorway to take in the view. Naked Brandon made a very pretty picture, especially with his cock standing at attention.

He crossed to the bed and prowled toward Brandon on his hands and knees, crossing the mattress until he straddled his partner, letting Brandon's thick cock slide up and down between his butt cheeks. Then he raised himself up, guided the tip of Brandon's dick to the entry of his hole, and eased the head into his ready entrance.

Brandon's hand gripped his hips, steadying him. Riley let his head fall back with the intensity of the burn as his body made room for Brandon's sizable dick.

"Take it slow. We've got all night," Brandon cautioned in a voice like whiskey and sin.

It had been a while for Riley, which prompted the inspiration for the butt plug. He tried to relax as Brandon eased inside inch by inch.

Brandon encouraged him by swirling his tongue around Riley's sensitive nipples, then licked a stripe up the center of his chest and began to mouth at his neck.

"You're doing so good for me," Brandon murmured. "So tight. Feel awesome."

Impatient, Riley pushed down until Brandon was completely seated, balls deep, and they both groaned in pleasure.

"Move," Brandon growled.

Riley lifted himself up and then down, slowly at first, then faster, setting up a rhythm. Brandon reached between them, perking up Riley's cock, which had softened with the initial burn until he was also hard and dripping.

Brandon kissed Riley, wet and open-mouthed, and sucked on his tongue while slowly working his cock. Riley didn't expect this time to be lingering and drawn out. There would be plenty of time for that. Now, he had mating on his mind.

"You sure?" Brandon blew across the tender skin of the hickey.

"Yes. Do it."

Riley arched in Brandon's arms as teeth broke skin, painful yet erotic. Without needing to think about it, he bent forward and did the same, biting into the meat at the juncture of Brandon's neck and shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and leave a scar.

A frisson of energy sizzled through Riley like completing a circuit. His orgasm surged at the same moment, carrying him away with pleasure, and Brandon thrust faster and harder, indicating his own rising climax.

Riley thought he might have whited out for a few seconds, and it took a moment to regain his senses, making him feel drunk with pleasure. He felt sated, but more than that, Riley felt a warm cocoon of love and protectiveness that came from inside his mind, not an outside observation.

Brandon?

Brandon nuzzled at Riley's throat, licking over the fresh bite, kissing away the sting.

Riley didn't hear words, but he felt a wash of emotions—happiness, satisfaction, pride, dedication. He wasn't sure if this was the mating bond, but he did his best to send back his own feelings, validating and confirming.

"Can you feel what I'm thinking?" Riley whispered, like sharing a secret between them.

"Uh-huh. Can you?"

"I think so. It's…nice."

Brandon eased them down on their sides and gently slipped out. He reached for tissues from the bedside box and cleaned them up, then rolled onto his back with Riley beside him, his head cradled on Brandon's shoulder. Just to be safe, he brought out two square bandages and some antibiotic salve for them to patch the bites.

"Will we be able to sense each other's thoughts all the time, or just after sex or near-death experiences?" Riley asked.

"I'm not sure. Guess we'll have to find out. It could change over time, get stronger, and happen more often. Are you okay with that?"

"Uh-huh," Riley murmured. "Definitely makes it harder to have a fight. Which is a good thing. Does a mate bond do anything else?"

"Depends on who you talk to," Brandon replied. "It might also differ among types of shifters. We're only now just ‘growing our own' experts to study our biology in a safe way. Some say it brings the two partners' life forces into sync. Lore says that fated mates don't survive losing each other."

"Tragically romantic. Anything else?"

Brandon turned to face Riley. "I honestly never studied the lore because until I met you, I didn't think I'd ever find a fated mate. Then I saw you and knew for sure."

"Smelled me is more like it." Riley leaned in to kiss Brandon on the nose. He realized there was still one piece missing.

"Can I watch you shift again? Not right now—you'd break the bed. But sometime? Is it too private?"

Brandon chuckled. "You might find it unnerving until you get used to seeing it, but shifting isn't private for the reasons you might think. There are times when most of Fox Hollow shifts and goes for a run in their fur. Shifters can't change in their clothes—or at least, the clothes don't change with them—so none of us are prudish about nudity. We just don't shift in front of outsiders because we don't want to be on the six o'clock news."

"Makes sense." Riley reached out and stroked Brandon's long hair. "Are you disappointed to have a mate who isn't a shifter?"

Brandon shook his head. "Are you kidding? I have you. And you've got your own gifts. I'm just glad that I found you and we're together. Nothing else matters."

Riley snuggled close to Brandon, content in the circle of his arms. He breathed in the scent of his sweat, their sex, and something that was completely Brandon. He might not be a telepath, but the emotions that washed over him warmed his heart and soothed his soul.

Loved. Cherished. Safe.

Riley did his very best to send those same feelings back to Brandon. He felt the burn of the fresh bite, knowing he had found his forever moose, and smiled, grateful to be home.

Riley felt a bit better every day that passed after the wreck. Follow-up visits cleared him on his concussion, while muscle aches gradually went away and bruises faded.

Nightmares kept their own schedule.

The first ones happened in the hospital right after he regained consciousness. Riley relived the terrifying moments in the car, arguing with Tate, skidding on the ice, and then going over the side of the slope and waking up in the wreckage.

Sometimes, the script rewrote itself. Tate fired the gun he had brandished in the parking lot, and Riley died on the spot. His mind replayed the wreck, versions where Tate wasn't dead and followed Riley from the car, confronting him in the bloody snow, or where Riley left Tate behind in the car, injured but screaming curses, and the pickup exploded in a fireball.

Other versions stuck to the facts until Riley reached the top of the hill, but ended when he fell asleep in his snow cave before Brandon could rescue him.

There were variations. Sometimes Tate kidnapped Brandon, forcing Riley into a frantic search and ended with him bargaining for Brandon's safety, usually by trading himself as a hostage. In a few versions, Riley and Tate struggled over the gun, and someone got shot.

This night, Riley woke, panting and drenched in sweat, heart thudding. In the dream, he and Tate had struggled for the gun, and it went off, killing Brandon, who died in his arms.

"Riley?" Brandon's sleep-rough voice murmured. "It's okay, babe. You're safe. I'm safe. It's over. No one's going to hurt you."

Riley bit back a sob, unable to let go of the smell of blood, the weight of Brandon's body in his arms, the way his eyes stared without seeing. "He…the gun…you?—"

"Shh." Brandon sat up and enfolded Riley in his arms, pulling him against his chest and stroking his hair. "I'm here. He's never going to hurt anyone again. Just breathe."

Riley sniffled, burying his face against Brandon and squeezing him tight. He took in Brandon's scent and the heat of his body, trying to convince himself that this was real.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You're not getting any sleep because of me and my stupid bad dreams."

"Hey. Your dreams aren't stupid. And there's no one I'd rather be sleep-deprived with," Brandon replied gently, an attempt to lighten the mood that Riley appreciated. "The doctor said it was a normal response to trauma. It's going to take time."

Riley nodded, but the gap between knowing with his head and believing with his heart seemed vast. "And normal people could see a psychic therapist and be able to share what they were seeing and feeling, but my freakish ‘immune' brain doesn't work right."

Brandon pushed him away just far enough for their eyes to meet. "You are perfectly normal. Your immune ability isn't ‘freakish.' Everyone copes differently. Trauma takes time to process. That's what the therapist at the hospital told you. Just talking without the psychic stuff works for most people."

"Can you pick up what I'm feeling through the bond?" Riley hated how damaged and weak he felt.

"Yes. It wakes me. I don't get words, but I pick up more images and feelings than I did before the bite. And I try to send back calming, safe thoughts." Brandon combed his fingers through Riley's sweat-soaked hair and pressed kisses to his temple.

"I feel them—and I try to follow those thoughts out of the nightmare. Tate's dead. I wish he'd go away for good. I feel…haunted."

"Jeffries sent a medium to the crash site," Brandon reminded him. "There was no spirit present. Tate's been cremated, and the mediums did a banishing ceremony with the ashes. They're buried in blessed, warded ground with binding spells. The only ghosts are in your mind."

"It would be easier to get rid of them if they weren't," Riley sighed.

Gradually, Riley felt the tension seep out of his exhausted body, and he slumped against Brandon. "Thank you."

"That's what mates are for," Brandon said. "Do you want to try to go back to sleep, or should I make hot chocolate and put in one of our cartoon DVDs for a while?"

Riley felt selfish for asking, but he was afraid to try to fall asleep again just yet. "Hot chocolate and Bugs Bunny, please."

Brandon chuckled. "Coming right up. We can wrap up in a blanket and snuggle."

"What about you getting some sleep?"

"I'll be fine." Brandon shrugged. "Moose in the wild catnap for five minutes at a time."

"Don't you mean, ‘moose-nap'?" Despite everything, Riley couldn't resist the humor.

Brandon kissed him. "Come on. You can make a comfy nest on the floor in front of the couch while I make the hot chocolate. I'll even let you pick which disc to watch."

The banked fire still warmed the living room. Riley watched the glowing embers for a few minutes, entranced and welcoming the diversion. Then he pulled pillows and throw blankets onto the floor to make a cozy pit in front of the television and chose a disc with several of his favorite episodes.

"Pillow therapy," as Brandon called it, worked even if Riley sometimes felt chagrinned at needing the comfort of childhood favorites as an adult. Brandon—and Dr. Jeffries—assured him there was no shame in reaching for the safety of predictable experiences to help heal, and Riley didn't have the spoons to put up an argument he didn't really want to win.

Hot chocolate, soft pillows, warm snuggles, and familiar cartoon hijinks lulled Riley into dozing, safe in Brandon's arms at some point in the wee hours of the morning.

He was surprised to find how late they had slept when he finally roused without a bad dream. "Did I make you late for anything?"

Brandon shook his head. "Not today. I have some preparation to do for a snowshoe hike tomorrow, but there's nothing on the calendar for today. Stay where you are. I'll put in a new disk, and we can eat sugary cereal in front of the TV like we're kids again."

"I love you so much. My guardian moose."

"We take good care of our mate."

Over the next weeks, the nightmares gradually subsided between talking with a therapist, guided hypnosis, and cuddling with his mate. They came less often, lasted for a shorter time, and no longer seemed terrifyingly real. "Thank you for putting up with me," Riley said one night after a less frequent bad dream.

"You're my mate. It's not ‘putting up with,' it's ‘taking care of,'" Brandon corrected in a gentle tone.

"You've helped a lot." Riley held Brandon's hand on the couch as they re-watched a favorite comedy movie. "I know we don't have the full mate-bond telepathy, but ‘thinking at each other' really does seem to help."

"Good to know. Maybe over time that will get stronger, and maybe it won't, but however it ends up, it's our bond, and that's good enough," Brandon assured him.

"Jeffries and the psychics are interested in how completing our bond impacted my ‘immunity,'" Riley told him. "So half the town knows we did the deed."

"Like anyone doubted." Brandon snorted. "But I imagine it would be a unique case for them—a human bonded to a shifter on top of your ability."

"More like my inability." Despite Jeffries's encouragement, Riley had difficulty thinking about his psychic shielding as a positive.

"Hey, don't trash talk my mate," Brandon replied, like he always did when the subject came up. "I'm glad Jeffries expanded the timeframe on the study to see if things change the longer we're mated."

"I'm not sure that whatever he learns is going to help a lot of people—I don't know that there are a bunch of nils out there."

Brandon shrugged. "Might be. They might not even realize they are. No gift evolves without a purpose. Even though I can sense more of your feelings through our mate bond, I still find the lack of psychic noise to be very calming."

"That's what all the psychics say at the Institute. I guess I could be the office mascot, like some places let you bring in a dog for stress relief."

"Wasn't what I was thinking, but sure, go for it." Brandon laughed.

Their new couch made a visual statement of starting a fresh life together. The sofa had a retro "overstuffed" look in a saddle blanket pattern, and it was as wide as a twin bed, so cuddling wasn't a problem. Riley decided that the next piece on his wish list was a double recliner.

Moving in with Brandon had been less of an adjustment than Riley expected, based on his memories of college dorms and apartment roommates. He and Brandon just seemed to fit, and while they sometimes debated the best location to store something, finding common ground wasn't difficult.

Is it all due to the mate bond? It seemed like a lot to attribute to one factor, but Riley couldn't dispute that living with someone else—even his family when he was growing up—had never been so smooth. Maybe the bond plus compatible zodiac signs. We're both big on communication, showing affection, and touch. Whatever the reason, I'm all for it.

Two months after the wreck, Riley and Brandon went cross-country skiing under a full moon. The wide-open park was mostly flat, with a few rolling hills. Riley didn't feel the cold. Skiing warmed him up, and Brandon had gone over Riley's winter wardrobe and suggested upgrades that were better suited for Fox Hollow's weather and more durable than his old gear.

A fresh powder glistened in the moonlight, and the twigs and branches fairly twinkled from their coating of ice.

"It's sort of magical out here." Riley stared up at the open sky. Away from cities, he could see so many more stars.

"Definitely magical."

Something in Brandon's voice made Riley turn to see Brandon go down on one knee and hold out a small box, flipped open to show two matching gold rings.

"Are those?—"

"Riley Henderson, my love and my mate, will you also do me the honor of being my husband?" Brandon asked.

Despite the cold, Riley nearly melted. "Yes! Oh, God. Yes!" Skis kept him from jumping up and down, and mittens muffled the sound when he clapped his hands, but Brandon's huge smile made it clear he understood.

"Good." Brandon rose and tucked the ring box into a zippered pocket. "Now let's go home before we freeze off our nuts."

"I've got plans for those nuts," Riley teased. "I like your moose knuckle too."

As they skied back in the moonlight, Riley tuned into his mate, doing his best to pick up on Brandon's emotions through their bond. Happiness. Satisfaction. Contentment and…horniness.

Well, we're on the same page. He tried to "beam" those same feelings back to Brandon, hoping Brandon could read at least that much.

That night, they made love in front of the fireplace on a soft pile of blankets. Riley loved the way the firelight gave Brandon's skin a golden glow and brought out the highlights in his chestnut hair.

Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that communicating through their bond felt strongest—barring dire circumstances—when they made love. Linking their bodies seemed to complete the circuit to link their minds, making the emotions shared through their connection even stronger.

"Have you thought about how you want it? The wedding?" Riley felt warm and sated in front of the fire.

"Figured we'd plan it together." Brandon twined their fingers.

"Sure, but you've been in town longer than I have. Have you seen anything that you filed away ‘just in case'?"

Brandon laughed. "Honestly? Before you showed up, I wasn't sure I'd ever meet the right person. I avoided thinking about anything like that because it was too depressing."

Riley chuckled. "I'm sorry you felt like that, but I'm glad you were still available when I got here."

"How about you? I'm fairly open-minded, although running off to Florida for a Disney World wedding might be complicated," Brandon said, and Riley laughed out loud.

"I'm pretty sure there was a moose or two in some of those animated movies, or at least a reindeer."

"Not the same. Distant cousins," Brandon sniffed. "Moose have prettier antlers."

Riley raised his hands in surrender. "No argument from me about that. I'm the guy with the antler fetish, remember?"

"I'm just glad that transfers to my other ‘prong.'"

Riley rolled his eyes. "Moose jokes." He sobered. "About the wedding? I really don't need anything fancy. Staying here in Fox Hollow with all our friends would be lovely. I'm even okay with doing it at the hotel. I've seen how they decorate, and they do up the ballroom real pretty. The food is good, and people don't have to worry as much about the weather."

"You play multiple gigs there a month. Are you sure that's special enough?"

Riley loved Brandon for asking. He leaned in and kissed him on the nose. "I'm marrying you. That's plenty special."

"How about the honeymoon? Do you have a dream vacation tucked away in your mind?"

Riley thought for a moment. "There are a lot of places I'd eventually like to see, but it doesn't have to be right now. If we want to save on plane fare, there's that super-fancy lodge up in Lake Placid that might be nice. Huge fireplaces, s'more cookouts, really cool décor, and people say the food is good."

"Are the beds comfy? Because no matter where we go, I plan to spend most of it under the covers with you," Brandon told him with a wicked wink.

"Now that you mention it, their site had extra kudos for how comfortable they were," Riley replied.

"Well then, move it to the top of the list. I've always wanted to check out that place too."

"I don't care as long as I'm with you." Riley snuggled closer. He could hear the wind outside, and occasionally a gust made sparks fly in the firebox. Despite the storm, Riley was toasty warm, even naked, between the fire on one side and Brandon on the other.

Even in his human form, Brandon definitely ran hot, preferring to sleep naked except on the coldest nights. Riley wasn't about to complain about the view, although he opted for sleep pants and a T-shirt unless he spent the night plastered against Brandon.

"It's a small town. Who do we invite? I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings," Riley said as the thought suddenly occurred to him. "Or do you want us to make our vows with just the two of us and then throw a big party?"

"It's not like I had online photo boards of wedding ideas," Brandon said in a wry tone. "I didn't think it was something I needed to worry about. But now that you mention it—maybe we just post an open notice. ‘Wedding at this time, reception to follow. Everyone welcome.' That way no one feels left out."

"That would work if we did light appetizers and a cash bar," Riley mused. "We could have a DJ and a justice of the peace. Keep it simple."

"Is that okay? Did you have your heart set on something more formal?"

Riley chuckled. "Not disappointed at all. I never was much for church weddings. Outdoor ceremonies always seemed like tempting fate. And the hotel is pretty enough that people come from all over to get hitched there, so why make it complicated?"

"That's very practical. My moose is impressed." Brandon leaned in for a kiss.

"He can be our moose-of-honor or the ‘best moose,'" Riley returned.

"He says he's always the best moose," Brandon relayed his internal dialogue. Riley had gotten used to Brandon's inner moose having opinions and making them known.

"He's sort of an invisible friend who really exists," Riley joked. "And he's a very good moose."

"He knows he is. Don't give him a swelled head."

Riley settled against Brandon, happy to be quiet and together. They would need to move to the bed since the fire would die down overnight, but right now, safe in Brandon's arms, there was nowhere he would rather be.