Page 98 of Beau and the Beast

It was impossible and they were doomed, but if Beau wanted him, this was at least one gift that Wolfram could give.

The quality of the kiss was different this time because Wolfram wasn't coming out of a dream. He was fully conscious, fully himself, and his senses flared awake at the taste of Beau. There was so much to take in—his heartbeat, the way he moved his body, the way he tasted—and the information came into his brain unbidden. He knew Beau was happy in that moment, could almost smell his satisfaction and arousal.

Beau's hands roamed as he returned Wolfram's kisses hungrily. His fingers moved over the short, soft fur on Wolfram's chest, his shoulders, until finally they came to the dark, longer patch that bisected his torso.

* * *

Kissing Wolfram waseverything Beau had hoped that it would be: full, warm lips sliding over his own, a demanding tongue thrilling him. But even as they kissed, Beau wanted more—wasn't ashamed of wanting more. He'd wanted to explore Wolfram's magnificent body with his hands for longer than he'd been able to admit to himself, wanted to feel the curves of muscle and the different qualities of fur.

And although the moment in the wrecked room next door before they'd kissed had been frightening and anything but erotic, it had answered plenty of Beau's questions about the rest of Wolfram's anatomy and whether or not it might be compatible with his own. Before he'd pulled the sheet around himself, Wolfram had been naked—must have been sleeping in the nude before he started sleepwalking—and when he'd turned to face Beau, it had been impossible to miss the heavy, uncut cock that swung between his legs. He was well-endowed and shaped like a human.

As Beau worked his hand slower down the center of Wolf's body, Wolfram groaned and broke from their kiss. Beau reached the bottom of his belly where the stripe gave way to a thick thatch of hair and Wolfram shuddered, stopping him.

"You don't have to," he said, an apology in his eyes.

"But may I, if I want to?"

Wolfram nodded, his mouth falling open.

Beau teased his hand over the edge of the sheet but didn’t tug it down. Wolfram was so shy about his body—of course he'd be shy about this, his most intimate part. So instead of freeing him immediately, Beau let his hands move gently and with purpose to trace the shape of Wolfram's cock through the fabric of the sheet. The slow exploration had Wolfram panting, moaning, and Beau felt a wicked anticipation thrumming through his own body.

He was huge—just as big as Beau would've expected with a man who topped out at over seven feet tall—and throbbing hard as Beau stroked him.

Finally, Wolfram seemed to relax, humming and then purring softly. When the noise began, Beau couldn't help himself, couldn't bite down the affectionate laugh that came out of him. He felt awful, knew he shouldn't laugh at Wolfram, but then Beau met his golden eyes and he was smiling, laughing softly deep in his chest, the sound rolling together with the purr.

It broke the seriousness, the tension, and then the plugs were out of the dam. There was nothing but pleasure and affection between them in that moment, no worries, no world beyond, no awkwardness in the difference between their two bodies. Wolfram smiled and lay back, letting his bare back fall against the mountain of pillows on the bed.

Beau pulled the sheet a few inches down his hips.

"Can I, Wolf?"

Wolfram closed his eyes but nodded.

"We don't have to," Beau said softly, "if you're not ready."

"Go ahead," Wolfram said. "It's fine."

Finally, then, Beau eased the sheet off of him, the last layer between him and the full reality of Wolfram's body.

His cock was beautiful in the same odd way that the rest of Wolfram was beautiful: vaguely intimidating and unusual with a wild grace that Beau had never experienced before. His skin was the same dusky color as the other places where Wolfram wasn't covered in fur, a dark golden color unlike any other man's skin. Wolfram was big—but, Beau noted with some gravity, not so big to be incompatible with Beau's own anatomy. At that discovery, he was delighted.

Naked and panting, Wolfram was like something out of Beau's most extreme erotic dreams and his own hard-on pulsed at the sight, at the thought of having something so big inside of him.

He knew he was putting the horse before the carriage. He'd barely kissed Wolfram and already he was thinking about what it would be like to have the man buried in him to the hilt—butGodBeau couldn't help himself. The reality of Wolfram's cock was beyond his wildest expectations.

Beau played his fingers down the length of him, admiring the way his cock bobbed at the stimulation.

"You're perfect," Beau said, and he meant it.

A generous bead of precum gathered quickly at the light teasing before gravity took over, dragging the release down the length of him. Without thinking, Beau leaned forward, pressing his tongue to the base and then drawing a stripe up the underside to collect every bit of it. He had to pause and swallow before he reached the top, but then he lapped across Wolfram's slit, taking another mouthful and swallowing again.

Wolfram had stopped purring—had stopped breathing entirely. When Beau looked up, wondering if he'd crossed a line, Wolfram was staring at him with his mouth dropped open, eyebrows furrowed as if he was outraged.

"Jesus," Wolfram said softly.

Beau blushed and swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "There's a lot," he said, feeling sheepish.

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