Page 95 of Broken Ice
“Fuck, I’m gonna…Em, please,please.”
Emilio pulled away, but Beau didn’t have time to mourn—a beat later, Emilio was sinking in, cock stabbing in deep.
“Fuuuck, fuck, fuck,” Beau sobbed as Emilio set a reckless pace, each thrust knocking the breath right out of him, leavinghim gasping for oxygen as if there were a hand pressing on his neck.
Beau lost all sense. His body was his Alpha’s, pleasure a thing bigger than him, growing every time he was claimed. He bared his throat, wrapped his legs around Emilio’s hips, and let himself be fucked through the mattress.
He came from one second to another, mouth opening but letting out no sound, too overwhelmed. Emilio didn’t stop, dragging the pleasure into a sharp, overwhelming sensitivity.
“Mine,” Emilio rumbled, and his knot began to grow.
Beau tried to speak, but there was no air to do so. Emilio grinded in, mouth next to Beau’s ear, hot air and a claiming word.
Beau came again, or maybe he’d never stopped. With a gasp, Emilio did too, filling Beau up to the brim, keeping it all inside him in hopes that it would take, fill him with pups.
Now, it was impossible. Eventually, though…
Beau lost track of time, minutes pouring like honey over him, sweet and slow and thick.
“I love you so fucking much,” he heard Emilio say from the other side of the fog,
Beau clutched his Alpha back and floated.
***
If Beau had given any thought to predicting how Emilio’s rut would go, he would have hit the nail on the head.
There was sex, obviously—by the end of two days, he was sore and aching with it. More than that, though, it was Emilio watching over him, taking care of every single one of Beau’s needs.
He’d go and check the perimeters of the house every few hours, testing the doors and windows as if someone were tryingto get in. He shadowed Beau anywhere he went, although Beau mostly stayed in the nest, happy to be doted on. Emilio hand-fed him bits of Swedish pastries he’d gotten delivered—left a few feet from the house, of course.
Beau’s favourite were the vanilla hearts—shortbread with vanilla custard that he got to lick from Emilio’s fingers until they were both panting and Beau was put on his belly to be knotted again.
Emilio made sure not to hurt him—that it was never too much, that he was never uncomfortable. He’d carry Beau to the bath and let him soak, washing his hair with gentle fingers, letting Beau doze on his chest.
It was perfect. There was no other way to describe it. Beau knew what it was like to feel loved—his family had taught him that from an early age. Being wanted this way, though? With no blood obligation, with no familial ties?
It poured into him, into every aching hollow and fissure.
He could sense the instant Emilio surfaced from his rut enough that it all clicked into place.
It was time.
Emilio sank into him slowly. Gently. Beau wrapped around him, holding him close, revelling in being so complete.
“Come on,” Beau urged. “Alpha.”
Emilio let out a hurt sound. Their scents thickened, heightened, Emilio’s knot swelling.
His teeth dug into Beau’s neck. Time was suspended for a moment, holding them close.
Emilio’s teeth pierced skin.
Beau shouted out. His senses were alight, his mind aflame with something new. He could feel Emilio coursing through him, locking in place.
Emilio palmed his cheek, turning his head, and then Beau was at his throat. By pure instinct, he bit down on Emilio’s mating gland.
The feeling was indescribable. The circuit completed, electricity running through.
