Page 27

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Avery

At first, Avery has no awareness of what is happening to his body, or why.

His immediate instinct is to think he’s on fire, but when he flings himself out of bed, the flames are only inside.

Distantly, he’s aware of Sascha calling his name, shifting from sleep to wakefulness in response to Avery’s distress.

Sascha climbs out of bed, talking to him, but Avery can’t process the words.

Burning in a way he’s never felt before, Avery staggers naked to the bathroom cubby, catching sight of himself in the mirror under the low light Sascha left on.

He doesn’t look different, which seems almost impossible because he feels as if he’s being ripped apart by hooks.

Is this supposed to be arousing? He can’t imagine how.

In an act of pure desperation, Avery turns on the shower, sets it to blast cold water at full strength, and jumps into the tub. His mostly healed wound sites twinge, but it’s buried by other sensations, so he doesn’t slow.

Sascha hurries in a moment later. He feels the water, then sighs. “Avery, you’re going to get yourself sick.”

“I’m already fucking sick!” Avery says, way too loudly. He grasps his face and moans, swooning directly into the spray. The freezing water does nothing to alleviate the inner flames, so he doesn’t protest when the cascade stops.

Avery doesn’t uncover his face when Sascha climbs into the tub and crowds him against the tiled wall, his body still warm from sleep. After a few moments in Sascha’s solid arms, the fire within Avery steadies into an even crackle.

Sascha noses at Avery’s neck, brushing his lips under his ear and whispering, “Tell me how I can help.”

A broken sound escapes him. “I don’t know. I don’t know !”

“Shhhh.” Sascha strokes Avery’s shoulders, his hips, his cheeks. He continues making sweet, soft sounds, lips tracing the shell of Avery’s ear until he shivers.

Then he’s shivering everywhere, tipping forward to bury himself in Sascha’s warmth, colder than he’s ever been.

Colder than roughing it all winter in Southern Michigan.

Colder than not being touched for eight months.

Now he’s here, early summer, moaning Sascha’s name and doing his best to thaw.

He realizes in that moment that the burning within him wasn’t from flames, but skin-searing ice.

“Bring me down,” he whispers, stretching to clutch Sascha’s short, blond hair. “Take me to wherever you are.”

A faint smile flits over Sascha’s lips, which drop a kiss on the tip of Avery’s nose.

“Gladly,” he says, then carefully scoops Avery into his arms and steps out of the tub.

Avery clings, refusing to let go even when Sascha sets him on the counter next to the sink and grabs a hand towel.

Laughing, he wipes away the cold water gathering on Avery’s skin.

Before Sascha finishes drying him, Avery’s body is wet again, this time from nervous sweat.

Just as he’s about to have a tantrum over all the fussing when he’s going to be a wreck regardless, Sascha takes him by the jaw and claims his mouth.

It’s the most direct kiss he’s ever received, lips and tongue taking him apart right there on the counter, like Sascha’s made it his mission to streamline the chaos taking over Avery’s body.

Sascha bites at the corner of Avery’s mouth, then puts his hand on either of Avery’s knees, slowly spreading them to make room for his hips.

Avery digs his nails into Sascha’s shoulders, thankful he can’t pop claws as easily as a shifter would.

The marks Sascha bestowed upon him the morning after the full moon faded, but Sascha recreates them now, mindful to keep his fangs tucked away.

He pushes Avery’s legs higher, forcing him to lean against the large mirror, and drops to his knees.

Scrambling to get a grip on the edge of the counter, Avery stares into Sascha’s eyes, pupils blown until his irises are only rings of piercing gold.

Expression shifting to a mischievous smile, Sascha brushes a faint kiss against Avery’s knee, then drags his tongue a few torturous inches up the inside of his thigh.

Avery makes a high, frustrated sound, which grows even more petulant when Sascha laughs, only to die entirely when that breath ghosts over Avery’s center.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Avery moans, writhing even though Sascha hasn’t touched him yet.

“Yep, I am.”

“ Why? ” he demands.

“Because you haven’t asked for it.”

A desperate keen tears its way up Avery’s throat. “Sascha Madison, if you don’t get your ass in gear and fucking fuck me already?—!”

“Wow, using my last name? That’s bold for someone so desperate to get his cock sucked.”

Demonstrating, Sascha flicks his tongue over the tip of Avery’s engorged cock, and the fact that he remembered what Avery prefers to call it almost feels better than the brief contact itself.

Years of needles, hormone therapy, and surgery recovery never took away Avery’s fear of the small thing between his legs never being seen as masculine enough.

It fills Avery’s chest with giddiness, enhanced when Sascha repeats the gesture.

Then he stops. Avery tries to wait him out, hands tightening on the edge of the counter to not-quite-hide how they shake.

“If you want to do it right,” Sascha says, pausing to kiss all the way around his mons, taking care to avoid the most sensitive parts of Avery’s cunt. He continues: “You’ll have to use my middle name, too.”

Avery barely manages to squeak out, “What’s your middle name, Sascha?”

Sascha bites so high up on Avery’s thigh it makes him jump, delicious pain radiating into his cunt, already pulsing with anticipation to the point of agony by itself.

Then he gently brushes back the dark hair on his mons, spreading Avery open and leaving him vulnerable to every puff of his breath. “It’s Nikolai. Now beg me.”

Though he’s breathing too fast, squirming wildly on the counter, Avery inhales deeply and raises his voice as loud as he can: “Sascha Nikolai Madison, please fuck me!” The words come out on a moan as Sascha finally leans in, mouth opening wide so he can fit his lips around all that sensitive skin, tongue stroking right up Avery’s center.

When the lick turns into blissful suction, Avery twists his hands in Sascha’s hair and feels his soul leave his body.

After so long building his anticipation, Sascha stops teasing.

He holds Avery’s knees up and apart, leaving Avery folded in a useless heap on the counter, head pressed against the mirror.

Oral has never felt this good before—of this, he’s certain.

Maybe because of the heat, the relief, or maybe because it’s Sascha who’s taking him apart.

There’s nothing casual about this, and that ramps Avery up high, higher, such that he keens when Sascha works a gentle finger inside him.

“More, please,” Avery pleads, clenching Sascha’s hair tighter with one hand while the other goes to brace himself so he doesn’t slump off the counter. “Please, Sascha, I need?—”

Sascha shushes him, adding another finger as he bobs his head on Avery’s cock, sucking expertly .

“Have you done this before?” Avery asks, more than halfway delirious. “Eaten someone out.”

Laughing, Sascha adds a third finger, crooking them up to seek out Avery’s internal P-spot.

He laughs harder when he finds it, rubbing so firmly Avery’s whole body arches.

Not letting up, he answers, “Once. Another trans guy, at a party. He wasn’t as hot as you.

” He says the last bit with his mouth already around the head of Avery’s cock, and kills any response Avery might have had by closing his lips around it.

When he breaks away to breathe, Sascha murmurs, “You’re so fucking sexy, Avery.

” Then he withdraws his dripping fingers from Avery’s cunt and dives in, spearing his tongue inside to curl against his walls like the cat he is.

It feels amazing, but not what his body wants. Sudden panic swells in Avery’s throat, bringing him to gasp out, “ Wait! ”

Sascha pulls away immediately, eyes wide with concern.

“It’s— No, hush.” Avery pets his hair clumsily, mumbling, “I need more.”

Sascha’s breath catches, but the moment is ruined when, on impulse, Avery moves to jump off the counter. Sascha scrabbles to catch him before he lands, then eases him down.

The moment Avery’s feet touch the floor, he clasps Sascha’s face and kisses him hard, without finesse. “I need you to fuck me. Can you do that?”

In response, Sascha drops to catch the back of Avery’s thighs, lifting him into his arms without separating their mouths. He carries Avery to the freshly made bed, gasping when Avery squirms against his hard cock, so eager he can barely stomach the seconds separating them.

“Fast or slow?” Sascha asks, lowering Avery tenderly to the mattress. He wastes no time stripping his boxers.

Avery groans, then grabs the back of his knees so he can open as wide as possible under Sascha’s hungry stare.

Sascha laughs, the sound hitching when he positions himself on the bed. “We’ll feel it out then.” He drives into Avery in one sharp jab of his hips, and Avery cries out like he’s being murdered, but like, in a good way.

“Acceptable?” Sascha checks in, lip quirking. At Avery’s frantic nod, Sascha takes up a merciless pace, leaving Avery hanging on for dear life, his blunt nails digging into Sascha’s shoulders.

Time melts, seconds sticking to the minutes. Avery can’t put a coherent thought together, not even when his back starts to ache from holding his knees so high.

The moment Avery hiccups in discomfort, Sascha halts.

“Is this still okay?”

Something inflates under Avery’s ribs, a fragile bubble of emotion responding to the care in Sascha’s voice. He chokes in complaint when Sascha pulls out, but it’s just as well because he ends up shaking his head.