Page 14 of The Buck Stops Hare

“Not yet, please.” The words crooned from my lips as I angled back and took more of his stuttering thrusts. I wanted our first time to come together.

Tears welled in my eyes as Cliff slowed down, teeth clenched, if his harsh, hissing breaths were to be believed. “C-can’t.”

“Please. Please, for me. Together.” I managed to lift my hips enough to clench the covers in one hand and bury my fist below, stroking my hard, pulsing cock. How I wished it was Cliff’s hand, but nature, or rather, a needle, had seen to us not having that sort of union.

He screamed. The earth trembled, and a tingle formed at the base of my spine as my balls rose. Every glass in my home rattled in a controlled hum, serenading us with trills of song. We werein tune. Our spirits had harmony. I howled with pleasure as he cried out his own, and I shot copious amounts of wasted seed into my sheets as my omega’s cock followed suit, pulsing with hard, jerking motions right against my spasming prostate. “Oh, Goddess!” I swore and spat a blessing in a language so old that no record remained, my body weak from spent pleasure.

“Fuck… Oh fuck. Oh…” His breaths trailed free, body heaving as he withdrew his softening cock and left me there cold and vulnerable. Cooling spend pooled from my hole, plastered my sheets, and I panted out rough breaths of disbelief that I’d allowed an omega to mount me.

Let alone liked it.

Loved it, even.

Cliff pulled off of me first, and my gaze drifted to his naked backside wet from either sweat or from the shower still. His plump cock dripped as he turned to glance at me before grabbing a towel. And as much as I loved him walking away, I loved it more when he returned, face flushed and muscles taut from exertion. He only lacked the sun-kissed element I recalled from my days of being worshiped by the Aztec. Those rough, competitive games. Often times, the losers were to be sacrificed, but sometimes, I would allow one male to offer a sacrifice of lust to me in lieu of life. We rarely let them kneel before the blade, as even losing teams were necessary for the winners to grow.

Though, Grim did have a losing team sacrificed once after our brother had gone. We were less in control of our hearts those days, not that it was any excuse.

As if understanding I was lost in thought, Cliff traced my rear with the towel and rolled me onto my back. Before covering my cum stain, he stared with raised brows and wide eyes. “That’s impressive, man.”

I glanced over and shrugged. “Your tune may change when it’s you on the receiving end.”

His upper lip curled, and I snorted with laughter as the towel hid my impressive mess. “I think I’ll need a lot more practice to take you on.”

I shrugged and gestured to myself from face to groin. “Given time and patience, I can make myself suited to you. I do not have to look as I do, nor does my cock have to be this way.”

“Call it incentive to not ride that war club until I’m trained to use it and sober.” He snorted, and I caught hints of Rayne in the way his lips twisted in a smile. He was everything I loved about my brother’s mate and more. He was mine, down to the core, when he squirmed into bed with me and fidgeted to find comfort.

I grunted noncommittally and relished his touch. “I’ll train you as a warrior, then.”

Innocent fingers traced my chest, fingertips grazing my collarbone and throat, delicately turning my head for a soft kiss. I prayed I never grew tired of it.

“What do we do now?” He asked a loaded question, all the weight of it bunched in small words.

I brushed my lips over his. “I teach you to fight. You win every battle you enter and we hide you from the Drowning River for as long as possible.”

“Another god?”

I hummed and my face stretched with a foreign sensation. A smile. “Older, fiercer, and crazier than any two of us combined. But he’s family.”

Cliff sighed and leaned his head on my shoulder. “As long as I have Jacque and I think you, we’ll manage. That’s how it works, right?”

I nodded and wrapped an arm over his back.

Chapter Eight

Cliff

A sharp knocking on my apartment door woke me at a god-awful hour of the morning. Jacque ran circles over my bed, thumping his legs as I shuffled to the door while I threw on my robe. “Mrs. Pemberlin?” I yawned and stared down at my landlady as she peered at me and around me. The days before had been a blur, but a polite Buck waved at me from my couch before standing to greet my, hopefully not homophobic, landlady.

I froze in horror. Everything was groggy, but I didn’t want my landlady to hate me.

“Good to see you’re doing better, son. I knew you were an omega, but an aspect?” She clucked her tongue and barged in, her pink, freckled skin stretching amid wrinkles as she smiled down at a curious Jacque that ran over.

“Am I the only one that didn’t know?” I sagged and slumped back against the door.

“I’m a damn witch. I know everything.” She turned her watery blue gaze onto Buck and squinted. “And that one’s got Vidalia’s mark all over him. Cliff’s sister Eve told me everything.”

She pointed a shaking finger at Buck and earned a leering grin in response. “My brother was favored by her, and my brother-in-law earned her blessing. Their daughter is named for her.”

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