Page 34 of Shaped to Be Yours

“I’ll try,” I agreed. “It doesn’t feel like the mood is too killed right now. Feels kinda perfect. And it’s not so late that we need to go right to bed. Do we?” I rocked up onto my knees and started to crawl toward him. Alone time sounded way better than dwelling on any past or present freakiness.

Ricky giggled as I closed in on him and opened his crossed legs once I was close enough for a kiss. I just wanted to sink into him. To pull him close, suck his tongue, feel his skin. But as soon as things started to get heated, and my hand touched the warmth of his belly under his shirt, I felt my claws extend.

“Fuck.” I pulled up, not letting myself touch him anymore. “Why can’t I do this?”

Ricky tried to pull me back, but I was too frustrated and moved to the other side of the bed again to lean against the headboard. “You’re just overthinking it,” he said. “You start to change and get all in your head about hurting me.”

“Because I do.”

“A little scratch—”

“Dude—”

“Hey. Listen to me.” Ricky leaned forward. “A scratch, even if it’s little to me, worries you. I get that. So, maybe we need to take our practice a different route.”

“What do you mean?”

Ricky returned to leaning back, propped against the footboard, but he didn’t recross his legs. He outstretched them. Spread them. And slid a hand into his waistband.

“What are you doing?” I asked, though I couldseewhat he was doing, even if I couldn’t see everything. Watching his hand, clearly gripping himself and stroking beneath the fabric, was drool-inducingly hot. It was almost hotter that I couldn’t see skin—though Ireallywanted to see skin.

“You do it too,” Ricky said, voice already getting hoarse. He wasn’t going for broke, pumping fast and furious, just strokingslow and purposefully. His eyes kept flicking from mine to my very interested cock, tenting my sleep pants. “Look at me, Jason.Watch. But you can’t touch me, only yourself. That way, if you change, you only have to worry about nicking your own skin.”

Fuck, that was hornier than I thought he’d suggest. Look but don’t touch? Really? I was pretty sure I was going to go full wolf at first jerk, but it did ease my mind to only have to worry about me.

I mimicked Ricky with my hand down my pants. I had a bubble of silky wetness at my tip already and shuddered when I swiped it up my length. The claws came back instantly, but I willed them away. I could will them away, and even if I failed, it didn’t matter. Ricky was safe.

And fucking gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and eyes hooded as he watched me.

“You know…” I started rolling my hips in time to my strokes. “I still haven’t gotten to see yourtat. But since you’ve seen mine…” I slid my sleep pants down to my knees.

Ricky’s lips parted. He hadn’t seen me hard. And while I was a little of a shower, I was definitely more of a grower. He hesitated, eyes moving back and forth between my face and dick again. He slowed his strokes, and then must have thoughtfuck it, because he shoved his pants down too.

He was perfect. Long and with the kind of thickness I couldn’t wait to wrap my lips around. Dark too with an undercurrent of rosiness from the rush of blood, like smooth cherry wood.

Heh. This wood was better than anything in the forest. Ricky’s thickening tip, veins pulsing, all leading to his tuft of dark hair like a mini fro to match his unbound curls—when theywereunbound, which I would totally tease him about once we weren’t watching each other jerk it.

Not that I could call this jerking it. This was ashow. This was porn with a budget, when the lighting and music is on point, andthe dudes are so clearly into it. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss the tip of his dick, lap up his precome, and share it with him between our lips. I had never wanted anyone else this much. Of course I hadn’t. Because only with Ricky did I know that, come morning, with no more scent of sex left on us, he’d still want to be with me just as I was.

“Ah-ahh!” Ricky’s hips stuttered as he came up his stomach and between his pecs, barely missing the hike of his T-shirt.

I was close too. Close enough that I tore my shirt off completely. I kicked my pants away with it, totally bare, no shield of bunched up clothing to hide behind. Ricky could see all of me, and I dropped my legs wider to really let him see me, to watch the speed of my hand bringing me closer and closer, without claws forming or more than the barest added point to my teeth.

I was doing it.

“I want to come inside you so badly,” I said.

The way Ricky’s eyes darkened and he bit his lower lip, told me he was close to saying, “Do it.”

I came. And shit, what a release, full of three-and-a-half years’ worth of pent-up frustrations, wanting to touch Ricky and to be touched, and we still technically hadn’t gotten to that yet.

Yet.

I launched forward, not giving a shit if I dripped come everywhere, and landed between Rick’s thighs to lick the release off his chest.

“Jason!” He laughed, dropping his head back with a thud, and a few unruly curls loosened from his bun.

I licked and licked until he was completely clean and swallowed it all down. It didn’t taste like come to me but that earthy, musky goodness I loved about Ricky’s smell.

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