Page 10 of Caught

But all the lies he’d told himself crumbled in the face of this.

He’d thought about it before, late at night when the silence got too loud, when his thoughts turned to places they shouldn’t. The fantasies. The tightness in his chest when he imagined being touched by a man. Always by someone strong, someone who knew what they wanted—the opposite of him.

But he’d shoved those thoughts down, buried them. Straight guys didn’t think about other men that way. Straight guys didn’t fantasize about the way a hand on their chest could make their pulse race, or how the heat of another man’s skin could drive them wild.

But now with Silas’ hard throbbing cock rutting against him, it was all coming crashing down. Every fantasy, every denied desire, flaring to life in his hands.

His free hand slid lower, brushing over the hard muscles of Silas’ stomach, the feel of the taut skin against his touch.

The growl that escaped Silas’ throat sent a surge of heat straight to Evan’s core. He’d never felt anything like this: wanting someone this badly, someone who wasn’t supposed to be the one he wanted. He was supposed to be a normal, unremarkable guy. He was supposed to have control.

But with every touch, every brush of skin, that control was slipping through his fingers.

Silas’ muscles tensed, his breath quickening, and Evan responded without thinking, moving with more urgency, more need. His hand wrapped around Silas harder, gripping tight as his strokes sped up into a frantic rhythm. He could feel the way Silas’ body shuddered beneath his touch, the way his breath hitched with every pull.

Soon, Silas would come, and then Evan might be able to slip away…

If he timed it right, if he played this carefully, he could vanish into the dark the moment Silas was spent. He could run—barefoot, breathless—through the trees, past the twisted shadows of writhing bodies, past the snarls and gasps and fevered cries of other humans caught in the madness of the hunt. If he was lucky, he could avoid another encounter, make it through the rest of the night untouched. Safe.

And in the morning, when the sun rose golden and indifferent over the quiet town, he would go home. Step into his shower. Wash this night off his skin. He’d get dressed, maybe grab a coffee at the corner café like nothing had happened. Like he was just anordinary guyagain.

And he’d never do this again.

Never risk himself like this. Never feel the hot press of a werewolf’s body caging him in. Never wrap his fingers around something so thick, so pulsing with raw, primal need.

Except—

A pang shot through his gut, sharp and undeniable.

Because heknew—the moment he let go, the moment he walked away—this wouldn’t be over. This night would never leave him. He’d wake up with the phantom heat of Silas’ breath against his neck, the ghost of a low, guttural groan curling in his ears. He’d find himself hard, aching, in the dark hours of the night, his mind replaying the way Silas had trembled in his grip.

And then he’d have to go back to his ordinary life. Pretend like he wasn’t already ruined by this.

“Evan,” Silas rasped, his voice low and rough, and that was all it took to shatter his pretence. Evan tightened his grip, moving faster, his own cock hard enough to ache.

He couldn't lie to himself any more.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care what he had told himself, what he had pretended to be. His mind was on fire, his body betraying him with every second, but he couldn’t stop.

He didn’t want to stop.

Every movement, every touch was his own choice now.

With a jolt of surprise, Evan realized that he was moving to better accommodate Silas' body, spreading his legs to let Silas better rut down against him.

This is fucked up,he thought to himself, his hand moving almost on its own.

Silas seemed to sense the shift in Evan. His growl was low, approving, a rumble deep in his chest that sent a jolt through Evan’s body. His hips pressed harder, claiming, marking, and Evan could feel the heat radiating from him like a wildfire.

Evan’s pulse hammered in his throat, his breath shallow as Silas' fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer. The touch was possessive, grounding, and yet there was something more—something that made Evan’s heart race even faster.

"Good boy," Silas murmured, his voice rough, like gravel being scraped against stone.

The words hit Evan like a bolt of lightning.Good boy.The words felt foreign on his skin. It made him shiver—an involuntary tremor that ran the length of his spine, a crack in the armor he hadn’t even realized he’d been wearing.

Evan swallowed hard, his head spinning. The way Silas' touch was so sure, so confident, as though he had every right to be here, to touch Evan in this way. It felt… strange. Like an invisible thread tying them together, pulling him in, even though they were strangers.

But it felt right.

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