Page 165 of Beau and the Beast

Beau had been balancing easilyacross Wolfram’s hips, riding the flush of pleasure. It was easier to take him this time, to press his body forward and know that yes, it was possible, and yes, it felt amazing to be filled so thoroughly and fucked so deeply.

But then Wolfram was moving, rolling them, holding Beau by the back—and standing up.

Beau moaned as Wolfram lifted him easily, still buried deep in his ass as he stood, supporting both of them. Beau wrapped his legs around Wolfram’s waist and his arms around his neck. Wolfram moved his hands, holding Beau by the hips and then gently lifting him.

Wolfram made their movements for them, thrusting softly to meet Beau’s body in midair even while he supported him by the hips. Beau had no control of their movements, then, could only beg him for more.

“Please, you can go harder—I need you to—“

And Wolfram did go harder for a few strokes, holding him firmly as he thrust up into Beau. It was a strange, wonderful sensation to be held in the air as Wolfram fucked him. Wolfram supported his weight like it was nothing, could move him around so easily, and Beau shuddered at the reminder of how small he was there between Wolfram’s hands.

Wolfram went hard again, the sounds of their bodies meeting almost as loud as Beau’s moans. Then he stopped abruptly, shutting his eyes and letting out a ragged breath.

“It’s too good,” he said softly, catching Beau’s mouth in a kiss.

He backed them up, then, until Beau’s back was pressed against a smooth, cool wall.

“Is this alright?” Wolfram asked. Beau nodded.

The position gave them both more leverage, and Wolfram resumed with a steadier pace, laying long strokes of his thick cock into Beau. Each movement provided its own arc of pleasure, the stretch at the beginning, the profound satisfaction of being filled to the brim, and then the absence, the promise of more.

Beau loved every second of it, craved it, never wanted it to be over—and in the physical pleasure they took from each other, he could almost forget the sad reality of what he’d learned. Beau would trade this night and every night they’d had together if it meant that Wolfram could stay with him longer. He would go back, take it all back, just be Wolfram’s friend if it meant that the man could be allowed to live.

As Wolfram fucked him harder and harder into the wall, Beau found his tears welling up. Despite the fact that his eyes had gone wild, Wolfram saw immediately, coming back to himself and pressing kisses over the tracks of Beau’s tears.

“Don’t cry now,” he said in between kisses, his voice distorted by pleasure as he pressed into Beau. “Don’t cry, Beau. I’m here. We’re here.”

Beau nodded. He wouldn’t let the future rob him of this moment. He let Wolfram kiss away his tears until he didn’t have any more and then he forced his mind to go still, to be consumed in the frenzied current of lust between them.

This time, when they came, they were locked in a kiss, both of them moaning into it, wordless and lost. Beau had the profound feeling that in that moment, they weren’t two people—that their union had been so complete that for a moment, he and Wolfram occupied the same space, that there was nothing between them—no more secrets or lies—and that the moment of pleasure peaking and ripping through their nerve endings was the same moment for both men.

Beau came into Wolfram’s twisting hand and Wolfram came into Beau, pumping him full again, both of them straining and breathless against the force of it. With the physical pleasure came something more that night, and Beau hoped that Wolfram felt it, too. As Beau came down from the high, he felthope,misplaced and absurd but present in his chest nonetheless, surging like a doomed instinct.

Beau hadn’t lost hope. He never had.

He kissed Wolfram and didn’t feel compelled to memorize the kiss—felt content to simply live in that moment as Wolfram supported his weight, as he throbbed through the last aftershocks—because he still had hope that things weren’t going to end.

Happily ever after didn’t mean happy all the time. There would still be some way to save Wolfram. Let Wolfram become resigned to his fate, let Alfie rail against it, and let the rest of them decide that the whole endeavor was hopeless.

Beau had hope. Beau would never give up.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Noah had askedfor more time from Lincoln to develop a plan.

But more time hadn’t made a difference.

Noah had been holding one date in his mind as the days had stacked up: the one-month anniversary of Beau going away. The date approached and then passed and Noah’s anxiety spiraled.

He broached the topic with Lincoln over a beer after work one day in the fifth week of Beau’s absence when Lincoln had dragged him out of the apartment.

“If I get that security system down, do you really want to go in there by yourself?”

They hadn’t been talking about Beau, but Lincoln picked up the conversation as if they had never left the topic.

“Absolutely,” he said, his eyes going excited. “Does this mean you’re thinking of doing it?”

Noah threw up his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t have another solution. I can’t hack into their system without triggering the alarm that’s going to bring the cops to me, so I can’t do anything to verify whether or not he’s there.”

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