Page 37 of Running Feral

He holds my hand for the short, tense walk across the parking lot. We go upstairs using the back entrance, my head whippingaround the entire time to make sure we’re not being watched. As soon as we make it inside without incident and the door is locked, though, the tension bleeds away.

“What do you want to do now?” I ask because we’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the apartment, close enough to but not touching, hovering in each other’s orbits like satellites about to collide.

“Kiss me.”

It’s a command, even if it’s soft-spoken. All my doubts from before are still in my mind, but they’ve grown quieter and quieter the more time I’ve spent with him.

He was right, after all. Worrying about taking advantage of him is one thing. Depriving him of his own autonomy, especially when he’s shown how fiercely protective he is of it, would be unforgivable. If he wants me to kiss him and I want to kiss him, I can’t decide against it because I think it’s better for him in the long run.

I have no idea what he really needs. I can only be here for him when he asks for it.

This time we’re standing, so I have to step close before leaning down to kiss him. It makes me want to curl around him protectively, so I don’t fight it. Within a few seconds, he’s wrapped up in me, and his warm mouth opens under mine with a hint of desperation that I undeniably return.

My hands roam over his back, not pushing any boundaries, but exploring the smooth planes of muscle hidden under his clothes. Like I’ve done before, I lean over, looping one arm under his ass before hoisting him up into my arms with his legs bracketing my hips.

Tobias makes a small squeak of surprise when I do it this time. It’s an incredible sound, and I want to devote a serious amount of energy to making him repeat it.

With him on my front like a koala, still eagerly swapping messy, breathless kisses, I stumble over the few steps to the couch and then drop us both onto it.

This couch is beginning to feel like the origin point of everything that’s ever changed between us. I’ll never be able to replace it now.

Once we’re there, we can both sink into it. We alternate between frantic, intense kisses and languid making out. It’s all glorious, and it seems to go on forever. I’ve been hard from the start, which I’m sure Tobias can feel underneath him. I’m careful not to move too much or grind into him, though, because I don’t want to push.

I touch him everywhere that seems safe—his back, his arms, his face and his incredible, strong thighs that are straddling me, over and over. He pushes into the contact every time. It takes him longer to get hard than I did, but before long I can see his erection tenting his borrowed pants. He doesn’t really acknowledge it, so I don’t either, but the longer we continue to tongue-fuck each other’s mouths, the more I feel him writhing under my hands.

Eventually, he’s rocking his hips into me. Delicately, not enough to be considered grinding, but more like an afterthought. Like his aching cock is seeking friction.

I break off the kiss for a second—both of our mouths spit-slick and swollen—but hold him in place by the back of his neck so he knows I’m not going anywhere.

“Can I touch you?” My eyes flick down to the tent in his pants. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. There’s no rush. But if you want me to, I’d like to. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.”

Tobias is panting, his eyes flicking from side to side for a minute while he seems to gather his thoughts.

Finally, in a single breath that turns into a whine, he says one word.

“Please.”

Arousal pulses through me just at the thought, and I have to be very conscious not to grind up against his ass where my own erection is lying snug against his crease. It’s an incredible tease, but I also know without a doubt that it’s a line not to cross, no matter how distracted I get.

Instead, I focus on him. I kiss him deeply, not wanting him to get in his head, and begin to rub his cock through the fabric. There’s already a damp spot, and he’s completely rigid against my palm. His cock is slender, like him, and average length.

I tug down his pants and briefs in one movement, not removing them all together but enough that I can reach him. His entire length is a blushing pink color, cut, and fits perfectly in my hand. I wrap my fingers around him and stroke him a few times, slowly and gently, to get a feel for his reaction, only to have his hips buck as he moans into my mouth.

Keeping the slow pace, I’m a little shocked when Tobias breaks off the kiss. It’s not to pull away, though. There’s already redness crawling up his cheeks, and he’s digging his fingers into my shoulders like he’s clinging to me, but his mouth is hanging open to pant. His eyes are half-closed, thin lines of honey-brown gazing at me from under dark lashes.

“Does that feel good, baby?” I ask, when he still doesn’t say anything.

Tobias nods, then gasps when I roll my thumb around the head of his cock before continuing to stroke. He’s so hyper-sensitive, it’s like every touch is setting off a chain reaction in him, and he’s already overwhelmed.

“It’s been—” he pants in between words, “—a long time.”

I steal another quick kiss, his lips already parted for me, and then lean back to watch him come undone.

It’s beautiful. He doesn’t move a lot, like he’s trying to keep himself small, still. But everywhere his hands are on me, I canfeel the intensity in his touch. His fingers dig into my skin through my shirt, refusing to lean more than a few inches away.

“Take this off,” he breathes.

I comply quickly, whipping off my shirt and then going back to stroking him. I can see that lust-drunk gaze roaming over me, taking me in, and I don’t quite resist the urge to flex while he watches me.

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