Page 52 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

“Full,” Zev managed, after a moment, making that whimpering sound again. “When you do that, I—I think I could….” He shook on the bed and gasped as Dragan rubbed at that spot inside of him.

“Yes, of course you could,” Dragan said, smiling down at his mate. “But you won’t, until you ask me.”

“Please, may I,” Zev said, immediately, voice very close to a whine.

“No, but that was pretty, my mate.” Dragan laughed outright at the scowl that earned him. He was glad of it, because Zev had been so careful not to express anger or annoyance at Dragan when they were first mated. He’d been so convinced that Dragan wouldn’t allow it, as if feelings were things he needed permission to have. Dragan knew that his dominance could sometimes be heavy-handed thanks to the years he’d spent as kuvar, not to mention living without a mate and with only a strong-willed, dominant daughter through countless winters.

It had almost been a shock, the first time Zev was cross with him, but Dragan had been glad to see it if only because it meant Zev was becoming more comfortable in his life here. Despite all of the dramatics surrounding their courtship, they were still getting used to each other.

It made him smile now, and he gave Zev’s cock a quick pat and laughed as he squirmed under the touch, twitching. “Relax, puppy. Take what I’m giving you. You like it, hmm?”

“Yes,” Zev managed, breathing going shallow again, as Dragan fucked him gently with four fingers, slow and easy, hand slick with the oil. “I, ah. Like it, feels good. Can I have more–”

“Hmm.” Dragan stroked Zev’s thigh with his free hand, feeling the warmth around his fingers. “Breathe, first. Deeply. There you are.” Zev had a tendency to hold his breath when he was close to coming, either to hold it off because he didn’t have permission, because it felt better, or because he was too caught up to remember to do it.

Dragan liked to think it was all three.

Zev breathed in and out, and Dragan was quiet, watching him as he continued to pet his thigh, his side. The touch was almost as settling as his dominance, and when Zev was finally relaxed enough, Dragan slid his hand free and took up the oil to add more.

“If this hurts, you will tell me,” Dragan said firmly, nudging Zev’s thighs apart a little more, spreading him open.

“Yes, Dragan,” Zev said.

“If you do not want it, you will tell me,” Dragan continued, returning to his task, easily slipping in three fingers with Zev so open and slick for him.

“Yes, Dragan.” A hint of impatience, and Dragan glanced at him, arching an eyebrow.

“I said yes,” Zev muttered, and Dragan bared his teeth in a fierce grin, leaned down, and bit the corded muscles of Zev’s lower stomach, close enough to his cock that Zev gasped loudly and bucked up hard off the bed.

“Behave, puppy, or I’ll see you tied up and leashed and hard as a rock until morning,” Dragan said, but it was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Zev was too beautiful, too desperate, for Dragan to want to do anything but watch him fall apart in pleasure.

“Please, I want to. I’ll tell you if I can’t take it, but I want to try.”

That was pretty, and it was exactly what Dragan wanted to hear. “All right. Good boy. Breathe, that’s it.” He coaxed Zev into relaxing once more, gave him four fingers for a few long, breathless seconds, and then carefully folded his thumb in against his palm.

It took some time to work his hand in, and once, he did stop when Zev went still, staring up at the ceiling—but his breathing was still deep and even, and he wasn’t tensing his muscles like before. His cock was still hard, and Dragan stroked it gently with his other hand as he pressed forward.

“That’s it, yes, you’re taking my hand like you were made for it,” Dragan praised, and his voice went rough, his own cock hardening at the sight. They’d spent long nights together this winter, practicing, stretching him, making Zev ready for this. “Look, my wolf,” he said, after a moment, when he found the ability to speak again. “Look at my hand inside you.”

Zev blinked, then glanced down. He pushed up a bit to see, which made him clench tighter around Dragan’s hand, buried now to the wrist. His eyes went wide—and then he smiled, his eyes bright when they met Dragan’s. “Ah.”

“Yes,” Dragan chuckled. “I have fisted the words out of you, hmm?”

“Not quite yet,” Zev said. “It doesn’t hurt,” he assured Dragan, and relaxed back on the bed. It was clear that the pride he felt in taking Dragan’s hand was just as intense as the sensation, and Dragan couldn’t deny that he felt the same. Seeing his hand completely enveloped by Zev’s body was enthralling. He felt the same pride as Zev, knowing how much Zev trusted him to allow this, how patient he’d been, how he’d been so open and honest with Dragan about stopping when they needed to.

“This is how it should be, between mates,” Dragan murmured, curling his fingers inside and rubbing again at Zev’s prostate. “I trust you to tell me when it hurts, and you trust me to stop when it does.”

“Dragan,” Zev panted, fingers curling into the bedding. “Dragan–”

“You are close, aren’t you? I can tell. Your cock is so hard, look at it, dripping onto your stomach. I want you to come on my hand, my good wolf, you earned it.” Dragan curled his fingers again, and moved his hand with a little more purpose. He was still careful with it, but Zev was completely lost to the sensations, pushing forward as if he were trying to take Dragan’s whole hand even deeper than it already was.

Dragan could feel it a second before it happened; the heat around his hand became vise-tight and Zev’s cock went even stiffer before he came all over his stomach. He was loud, and the pressure on Dragan’s hand was very nearly painful as Zev tensed all over in the throes of his release.

Dragan murmured to him, but he doubted that Zev even heard him as he carefully withdrew his hand and found a wet cloth near the bed to clean himself off. He left Zev lying there, messy and breathing fast, covered in sweat and come, with a blissful smile on his face.

He thought about filling the tub and carrying his mate to the bath, but Dragan liked the thought of him sleeping like this, marked and so completely his. Zev was under, sprawled on the bed in a boneless heap of satisfied, pleased, proud submissive. He blinked hazy, blurry eyes up at Dragan when he returned to the bed with a mug of water, having finished cleaning up. He sat on the edge of the bed and held the water to Zev’s lips, and Zev drank thirstily, not seeming to mind the water that dripped down onto his chest.

“My wolf, did you like that?”

---