Page 51 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

Trust Exercises

It was the third heavy winter storm of the season, and Zev was hotter than a furnace.

The room he shared with Dragan had transformed in the autumn, looking more like a cave of furs and quilted blankets than a proper bedroom, and the fire in the hearth blazed thanks to a clever little device Dragan had installed to keep out sleet and snow. The wolves had been there a moment before, curled up by the fire, but then Narcise had growled at Dragan when Zev started whining and writhing on the bed, and they were banished to their equally cozy den in the living room.

“I think you have another in you, pup.” Zev groaned as Dragan pushed against the spot inside that made pressure build deep down. He had three fingers in Zev already, and Zev had to grab the bedpost to stop from fucking himself on them like he had when Dragan teased his first release what felt like years ago.

He’d been working Zev up to a peak and easing him down all evening, and Zev wondered if he would find a better measure of relief if he just flung himself into the snow. He’d probably melt it. He’d probably warm all of Lukos, especially after Dragan had put him on a leash and murmured about how loose and desperate he was until Zev came at the ghost of a touch on his cock.

“Thought you loved me,” he said, and Dragan laughed fondly.

“You know you want more.”

“Yes, but can’t you fuck me?”

“Mm, no, we said this was about patience, my wolf.”

Zev was not exactly feeling patient. He wanted to growl as Dragan drew his fingers just so slightly back, but the rumble in his throat died when he felt a fourth finger brush his rim.

“Can you take it?”

Not will you, Zev noticed. If it was a matter of Zev bearing through something for Dragan’s sake, that would be another matter, which was why Dragan asked questions like that, keeping him honest.

“Yes. I can. I want to.”

“You want my hand? You want to be stretched open for me, do you?”

Zev nodded, but Dragan remained still, patient in a way Zev couldn’t imagine just now. “Yes. If you keep teasing me, I can just...just get my fur, sleep in the snow.”

Dragan made a disbelieving sound. The first snowfall had been so much higher and heavier than anything that usually made its way to the compound, and Zev had shifted into a wolf, leapt into the snow, and disappeared to his ears. Dragan had laughed so hard he’d wept, and it didn’t get any better when Zev had to bounce in order to make his way back to the front door.

“Go ahead, then,” Dragan said, and Zev groaned, trying to grind down on his fingers. He wanted Dragan in him now, never mind that they’d never managed to make it all the way yet, with Dragan’s hand inside him. Just the thought made Zev shiver, and Dragan stroked his cock with his free hand, making Zev moan and arch his back.

“I’d say you’re more of a cat than a wolf, right now.” Zev hissed, and he could hear the smile in Dragan’s voice as he said, “I’ll make you howl first, kitten.”

“You can’t say things like that when you’re inside me—ah.” Zev felt the slick touch of oil, warmed, no doubt, by the heat radiating from Zev’s face alone, and Dragan eased the fourth finger inside.

“Settle,” Dragan said, and his dominance fell over Zev like a blast of heat from the fire. He wasn’t under yet, but he could feel the edges of it at his awareness, the slow, hazy feeling that made him feel like he was floating. He let go of the bedpost, easing the tension in his arms, and tipped his head back on the fur blanket.

“Settle,” Dragan said again, and Zev closed his eyes, feeling the slight chill that always threatened to creep in through the walls, the warmth of his own skin, the soft, treated furs beneath him. The storm raged outside like an army of beasts charging through the hills, but Zev was safe with Dragan.

He let out a long, slow breath, and his voice came out a whisper, feather-soft.

“Please.”

* * *

His wolf was beautiful.

Dragan thought that all the time, really. Zev, shirtless in the summer, hair tied back as he worked on houses in the sun. Zev swimming sleek and naked in the hot spring, steam rising and turning his fair cheeks red. Zev on his back in the grass, Dragan above him with Zev’s legs over his shoulders. Zev hunting, full of concentration, eyes locked on his prey and fingers steady on his bow. Zev as a wolf, bounding through meadows in the spring, mud on his paws and in his fur, tongue lolling as he laughed in the way of wolves and tried to put his paws on Dragan’s shoulders.

He was beautiful even on those nights he awoke with a start, eyes shadowed, reaching blindly for his fur that was never far away, when he would stop and stare off into the distance, toward the compound, a pensive look on his face. Dragan knew he was thinking about Evgen, wondering what had happened to him, if his foster-father was a pile of bones like the ones drawn in the sacred cave near the springs, the old renditions of Those Who Left before they had known the truth of what happened to them.

But he was never as beautiful as he was now, when he settled for Dragan, submitted to Dragan’s dominance and showed his throat. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, panting, all his lean muscles tensed as he took Dragan’s hand.

It was easy enough for Dragan to curl his fingers and find the place that made Zev moan and twitch, made his cock grow harder where it lay flushed and already wet against his firm stomach. He made the most wonderful noises, whimpers and gasps, and four fingers deep, he was so close to coming, Dragan didn’t doubt he could simply keep rubbing Zev’s prostate and watch him come all over himself.

“Tell me how it feels, my wolf,” Dragan murmured, gently sliding them in and out, so close to being able to fold his thumb and fist him properly…but this couldn’t be rushed. As badly as Dragan wanted to see it, he wanted his mate to be howling in pleasure, eager for it, open and accepting and not in pain that wouldn’t soon become pleasure. Discomfort was understandable. Pain, with this, was not something Dragan would allow.

---