Page 39 of Wolfgang

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Jesus Christ.”

His mate was awfully blasphemous in his postcoital state.

But now Wolfe was reminded of his own painfully hard cock. Eric wasn’t the only one who needed to come. And if Wolfe couldn’t claim him fully, couldn’t yet stick his cock where it rightfully belonged, then he was going to do the next best thing.

He was going to mark that gorgeous face.

Wolfe flipped Eric easily onto his back, moving up to straddle his chest. Eric’s face was beautifully dazed, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth slack.

Perfect.

Wolfe freed his cock from the restriction of his suit pants. He stroked himself furiously. He had no patience for finesse, for delayed gratification. Not with his balls heavy and taut, his frame so rigid with unreleased tension he felt he might snap.

When he came, spraying his cum all over that gorgeous face, white spots danced along the edges of his vision, jolts of electricity running along his spine.

Wolfe let out a satisfied sigh, studying his handiwork. Those green eyes stared back at him, shock widening them. White dripped along his cheeks, his chin.

Eric licked at his lips, at the traces of Wolfe’s cum there. “Is this your idea of bonding?”

Wolfe let himself laugh, low and mean. “Oh, darling, we’re just getting started.”

thirteen

Wolfe

“I’mnotsoreatall.”

Even though Eric was facing into the apartment, his broad back to Wolfe, habit more than anything else had Wolfe fighting to keep his lips from curling. “Well, darling, if you recall, I never gave you much more than a finger.”

“Still—” Eric turned from the perusal of his apartment—hisoldapartment—to shrug at him. “It was, you know…all night.”

Now Wolfe’s lipsdidcurl. It had indeed been all night, somewhat of a full-time job, really, ringing orgasm after orgasm from his trembling mate, bringing himself to finish maybe once for every three of Eric’s own. By the time Eric had begged off, claiming oversensitivity and “serious dehydration” (impossible as a recently fed vampire, but the body sometimes took a while to adjust its expectations), the sun had been cresting over the horizon, and their mutual fatigue had officially dispersed.

It seemed their bond had begun to solidify, as intended. As evidenced by the new pep in Eric’s step as he led Wolfe into his former bedroom. And by the smug, satiated little snake Wolfe’s beast had turned into. Whether the stabilizing effect had more to do with Wolfe coming for Eric when he was needed or their new sexual connection, he couldn’t really say. And why should he care either way? He had no intention of breaking either habit anytime soon. Or ever.

It was new, this calm contentment radiating off Eric. Wolfe stopped in the doorway of the room, assessing it. He had so far only known his mate stressed, confused, restless, agitated, or lustful (or a strange combination of all of the above). But this morning, pawing through a drawer of what appeared to be loungewear, the connection between them pulsed with something soft and sweet, like nothing Wolfe had ever experienced in his own limited emotional repertoire before.

He wanted more of it.

He stepped inside the bedroom—somehow both messy and unkempt while simultaneously underfilled and underfurnished—keeping a careful eye on his mate, ready to step in if he made one move toward the bottle of aftershave on the dresser. But Eric only finished throwing his selected heap of clothes into a duffel, then stopped, hands on his hips, a somewhat lost expression on his face. “How much of my stuff should I take?”

Wolfe stepped idly over to Eric’s closet, checking if there was anything in there he might especially like to see his mate wear. “As much as you might need, to entertain you during your leave.”

It had been a simple enough matter, calling in and claiming leave for a medical emergency. There were an unholy number of forms to fill out, of course. But that was a small price to pay to have what Wolfe had begun to think of as their pseudohoneymoon uninterrupted by Eric’s work schedule. And if compulsion became necessary later down the line, Wolfe would make it happen.

“Like what?” Eric asked.

Wolfe cocked his head, turning from the closet. Eric seemed truly perplexed by the thought. “How do you usually entertain yourself?”

Eric shrugged. “Well, I work.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.”

Eric gestured to some texts he had piled up underneath his laptop. “And I catch up on medical research on my days off. Work out semiregularly.” He glanced down at his body, then back up to Wolfe. “I guess I don’t have to do that anymore?”

“Not as such.”

Eric nodded. “And I go out at night. Try to get laid.”

---