Page 75 of Running Feral

I can hear Tobias gasp as I unconsciously squeeze his cock, and his thrusts pick up pace even more until he’s fucking me with a kind of messy desperation that I find impossibly sexy.

“Can I?” he asks in a cracking voice. “Please.”

“Go on, baby. Fill me up. Give it all to me, like a good boy.” I milk his cock with my ass as I say it, joy filtering through me as his pace stutters and he thrusts as deep inside me as he can.

He’s so quiet, I wouldn’t know he was coming if I couldn’t feel it. Not that I can feel the cum itself with the condom in the way, but I can feel the throb and twitch of him unloading inside me, as well as the stiffness of his whole body as he squeezes me impossibly tight.

He doesn’t even take a breath until he’s done. Then he takes in one long, heaving inhale, followed by another. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not without looking at him, so I gingerly pull myself forward until he slips out of me, before turning over to face him.

It isn’t panic on his face. It’s not quite pleasure, either. It feels like it could go either way, though, so I do my best to nudge it in the right direction.

“Come here, baby,” I murmur, holding out my arms to him.

He collapses on me immediately. His body is in between my legs, the condom an unpleasant tactile sensation where his softening erection is pressed against me that I choose to ignore. His arms wrap around me the same way mine wrap around his, then he’s nosing his way into the spot between my chin and shoulder. The spot that he always seems to seek out and fit into so perfectly.

“You did so well, baby.”

I run my hand up and down the long line of his back while he continues to breathe. I murmur more soothing nonsense in his ear the whole time, telling him what a good boy he is and how good he made me feel. I tell him we can do that as many times as he wants, or we don’t have to do it again if he doesn’t want to.

Slowly, he sags. The tension leaves his body and his breathing evens out.

I finally chance a look at him, craning my neck.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, his face serious but his eyes clear.

“I’m okay. Thanks, Gunnar. That was good. That was a good idea.” Tobias blows out a long breath and his mouth tilts up at the end like he’s almost trying to smile, but he looks too exhausted to get very far. “I feel a little better now.”

“Do you wanna get cleaned up?”

Tobias moans. “No, but I think we have to.”

He pushes off me, groaning some more with the movement. I snag his wrist gently first though, pulling him into a kiss.

“What was that for?” he asks when I break away.

“I think you’re pretty fucking awesome,” I say, because it’s true, and it’s the only clear thought in my head right now. There are other words—words that spilled out of me by mistake last night and we both ignored—but I manage to keep them in for now.

He blushes. This boy has the audacity to blush right after he just fucked me like his life depended on it, and it’s adorable as sin.

“Yeah, well. You’re one to talk.”

I can’t help but smile at him. I’m aware that he’s only really good with words when he’s telling me to go fuck myself. Then, he’s shockingly loquacious.

You’re one to talkis still one of the sweetest things he’s said to me, and I’ll carry it around in my heart forever with all the others.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After I shot every last bit of brain matter out of my cock, Gunnar and I both went back to sleep until much, much later in the day. When we wake up again, things feel less awkward between us. Notnotawkward, but better.

On the upside, after all Gunnar’s mandatory food, water, rest in a bed and subsequent orgasms, I only have the barest hint of a hangover. Even though I was a dumbass and inhaled more vodka than my body knew what to do with yesterday. Gunnar gives me shit about this, of course, and asks to trade metabolisms.

He makes a lot of self-deprecating jokes about how old he is, which I low-key kind of hate. He’s not old. He’s probably felt old his entire life, after what he went through with his family. I know exactly how that feels. I don’t think I’ve ever thought of myself as young or innocent. At least not since I was literally a toddler.

That kind of emotional burden wears on you. It’s another reason I think he and I belong together, because we both get it.But sometimes I worry he’s one penny drop away from having some insane crisis of conscience and breaking it off entirely.

These are the thoughts consuming me as we both move quietly around the apartment and get ready for the day. They’re so distracting that it isn’t until I’m standing there—dressed in Gunnar’s oldest and smallest gym clothes and looking ridiculous; but clean and about as presentable as I get—that I realize I have nowhere to fucking go.

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