Page 20 of Below the Shadow of the City

CHAPTER 20

O nce I’m off my subway stop I run down the street as fast as my boots allow and straight to the basement. My heels clack against the tile as I rush across the laundry room floor, through the corridors of concrete, and to the elevator. I slam the button to take me to his floor and rapidly tap my foot as I watch the numbers tick down. I speed through the hallway, not caring if someone spots me. My fist pounds on the door to his apartment, and I hear heavy footsteps cross his wood floor and the tapping of his claws. He waves meekly from his place in the doorway, his tail swaying gently. I wave back.

Before we can exchange any words I pull myself into him and we kiss. He’s nearly bent in half to reach my lips, and I feel him shake with a giggle. There’s not much more we can do than laugh about how stereotypically cinematic our interactions continue to be.

“I need to stop running away from you,” I chuckle, out of breath. Maddox tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I probably need to stop taking it so personally when you do,” he kisses my forehead. “Do you want to come in? I was about to go for a run. We can hang out when I get back, maybe grab dinner? If you’re fine to hang out here solo for a half hour or so, that is.” He’s wearing athletic shorts and a white t-shirt, and I nearly miss his question because I’m so distracted by the way his shapely thighs look in those almost too-short shorts.

“Sigrid?” He pulls me from the lusty void I’ve found myself in. I feel as if I should suggest a far better form of exercise that would benefit us both. I blink my eyes slowly a few times and realize I’m completely avoiding eye contact by staring at his massive, toned, fur-covered legs.

“Y-yes! I’ll be fine!” I stammer. He gives me a wink that completely withers me, then swiftly exits the door. The brick space is quiet, and dim light comes from a few lamps spaced in the living room. It all smells like him, as if the apartment and him are blended into one. I walk through the kitchen and stalk the high-end appliances, the price tags of his gas range, double oven, and pot filler attachment all ticking up in my head. I scour his fridge, scarce save for protein drinks, Diet Coke, chicken breasts, and vegetables.

I’ve never had time to fully take in his massive living room, I’ve been on his couch multiple times now. The depths of his filled bookshelves and personal effects that litter the space are still a mystery for me to explore.

I wander slowly, tiptoeing almost as if he’s in the other room. My finger traces the spines of his massive book collection, and I look at the collectibles and knick knacks that fill the large oak shelves. I should ask him what they all mean and the stories behind him, I should treat this like he’s someone to know, not someone to run from.

On one of the bookshelves sits a family portrait. There’s someone who looks like a sterner, older version of Maddox sat next to a woman who looks identical to Inez with goddess locs and very visible horns. Her eyes gleam a warm amber, and they’re mesmerizing in the same way Maddox’s blue eyes are. Two children sit in the front, Maddox and Inez. Maddox is utterly adorable, and I wonder what his own children, our own children, would look like before I stop myself. The young version of him grins and his mouth is crooked in the same way it is now.

He re-enters the apartment and I jump at the sound of his door slamming shut. I lower the picture frame back onto the bookshelf, but not before Maddox catches what I’ve been looking at.

“That was right before she got sick,” he materializes behind me and lifts up the frame. His thumb lingers over the stunning woman in the portrait. His claw ticks at the glass.

“She was beautiful,” I say quietly.

“She was incredible, it’s been eighteen years but I can still close my eyes and see her smile.” I nod along silently. I don’t make eye contact, worried that seeing him tear up will make me do the same.

“When she died,” his voice tightens. “I didn’t grieve like I should have. My dad, he’s stoic. He didn’t let my sister and I see him cry. She was a few years older, and she had her own friends and ways to process. So I was left to handle it on my own, and I really didn’t. I pretended like everything was fine.”

“I know the feeling,” I quietly answer.

“I was jealous of my friends who had parents who were still alive, kids that young don’t talk about those things, so I internalized a lot.”

“You wouldn’t know it from talking to you though,” I note.

“Exactly, I didn’t let anyone know. It didn’t catch up with me until I was much older, and let me tell you, dealing with emotions at twenty that you should have dealt with at eleven is not a fun time.” I nod and continue looking at the photo, little Maddox didn’t deserve all that heartbreak so young. I try to imagine what Maddox could have been like when he was processing all this belatedly, it’s difficult to picture him hurting or angry. He’s so open and well-adjusted, and he obviously worked hard to get to that place.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You deserved better. You deserved someone to care for you and listen.”

“I know I did, now all I can do is accept that I’ve grown through it, and I can be that person for someone so no one has to deal with things alone like I had to.” His comment is pointed. My emotions have always been simmering on the back burner, the heat calibrated to ensure it never bubbles over.

We run out, grab sushi, and bring it back to his place to talk more. He puts on a true crime docuseries neither of us have seen, and we watch it in comfortable silence. My head rests on his chest as we lay on his couch together. I listen to his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his chest, and trail my fingers in swirls on his forearm while he runs his claws through my hair. It grows late, time passes without either of us looking at the clock. Eventually, I know I should go back to my apartment for the night. I adjust myself and straighten on the couch.

He rakes a hand through his mane and stares at me through hooded eyes. “You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to leave…” but it’s getting late, I have to work tomorrow, I shouldn’t be doing this. Over and over the logical part of my brain tries to find holes in the plans he makes for us. He lays his palm on my thigh and I glance up at him.

“Then don’t, stay here tonight,” he moves towards my neck, his muzzle finding itself wedged in the column of skin between my chin and shoulder. He nips at my jugular, as his teeth graze my skin I tremor beneath him. “Stay, please,” he whimpers into me.

“I will,” I breathlessly exhale as my chest tightens. I don’t need to think about leaving early for work tomorrow morning or the fact I don’t have any fresh clothes here. It’ll be like our first night all over again.

I shrug my jacket off and it lands on the floor in a heap. The hemline of my dress skates upward as we move on one another. “I don’t know how you do this to me,” I mutter as he draws kisses up my arm. “No one has made me feel like this.” Each kiss perfectly blends the cool of his nose, the sharpness of his fangs, and the heat of his lips.

Maddox shushes me, “don’t think, just be. I will do whatever you want me to do to you if you’ll let me.”

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care,” I whine. “As long as it’s with you.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck your perfect cunt right here on the couch, and while my knot is buried deep inside you, I’m going to carry you to the shower and wash your hair and tease your clit, and you’ll be beside me buried beneath my blankets before I’ll release you from my cock. But you need to tell me if you want that.”

I bite my lip and feverishly nod.

“With your words, Sigrid,” he groans, he grinds his body along mine. I feel his cock pressing at the zipper of his jeans. I grasp it above the stiff fabric and his eyes roll back.

“Please, Maddox, I want you to fuck me, I want our bodies to be locked together. I. Want. You.” He doesn’t say another word, instead he roars low and helps me undress.

He gets up to head to his bedroom to grab a condom.

“I’m on birth control now,” I tell him. I’d gotten on it shortly after our first encounter. Just in case we would be meeting again, even if I told myself over and over that we wouldn’t. He nods affirmatively and hops back on the couch.

My hands pull his shirt over his head, my arms reach as high as they can go and I run my fingers up and down his bare chest. He grips my wrists and pulls my hands off his body and firmly places them at my side. “Let me touch you, please,” he says. I nod my head in agreement, settling myself onto the leather cushion. He lingers above me, staring, plotting his next movement.

His palms settle around my waist, and he rubs his thumbs in circles on my hip bones. His head ducks low and he drags his muzzle from my navel up my sternum. There are so many sensations happening at once, sharp claws, rough palms, wet tongue, soft nose, furry chin. I whine for him.

“You love the feeling of my tongue on your skin, don’t you,” he rumbles. “Do you like feeling like you’re my prey, Sigrid?”

“Mmmhhmmm,” I moan, “more, more.” I beg him. He moves his hands up my body and pinches a nipple between two claws before sucking on it. His other hand moves between my legs, his curled knuckle spreads me open and the pad of his thumb circles my clit.

“You will be my undoing, Sigrid Larson, your taste will linger on my tongue forever if I can help it,” he moves his face back down and buries his muzzle between my legs, his flat, wide, tongue covering almost all of my slit. His tongue curls and moves in soft thrusts and I quake, he places his thumb back on my clit and rubs in rhythm with his tongue.

“Maddox,” I cry, “I’m going to—” He nods his head feverishly, and I wrap my legs around his shoulders. I clutch his horns, dragging myself further into his face, seeking out the wild sensations his body provides me.

“Sigrid, ride me, please, use me,” he begs when he resurfaces for a moment. “Come on me.”

I come apart on him, my thighs tighten around his face and I crash.

Maddox drags his thumb along my bottom lip, running my own wetness on my skin. He then sticks his thumb in his own mouth, licking my taste off of him with a satisfied moan. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, returning his hands around my waist .

I think the fanfiction writers would refer to this as “velvet wrapped steel.” As I stare at his cock, those words feel, I don’t know, inadequate? There isn’t steel beneath that sheath of smooth, dark, skin, instead it’s red hot iron. The molten metal swirls in my gut when I touch him, or even look at him.

He teases his cock around my entrance, I shake beneath him. He slides into me, pausing his speaking as he parts me open. His length slides into me, and while the feeling of him filling me will never be something I’m tired of, it’s familiar now. I whine beneath him, moving my hips into him, adjusting myself into the precise position that feels so, so right.

He pulls himself out in a slow languid motion, and leaves me open, gaping for him. He growls, “I’m not going to harp on how flawless you are to me, but in case you need a reminder you are…” He thrusts himself back inside me.

“So.” Thrust.

“Fucking.” Thrust.

“Perfect.” Thrust.

I cry out for him, grasping at the fur on his arms while he’s inside me. His groans are absurdly hot, just like everything else he does. I am completely obsessed, possessive of his body as he sinks into me.

“You’re going to take my knot over and over again, aren’t you?” he hisses as he continues to thrust. “There’s a part of you that knows you’re never going to be satisfied without me, isn’t there?”

I nod my head in agreement, because he’s totally right. The inevitability of sex without Maddox’s perfectly formed cock is a bleak future.

His cock jolts, and I’m overwhelmed again by the combined sensation of his hot body and his knot swelling and his cum pouring into me. My inner walls clench around him, gripping onto his cock while I cry out for him. We both twitch through aftershocks together and he pulls me tight against him.

A few moments pass for us to catch our breath, and wordlessly he lifts me while I’m still wrapped around his knot. It rubs against my clit and I moan quietly from the sensation it produces with each step he takes.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you,” he chuckles.

“Never in my life did I think this was an option, had I known before…”

“Consider it an option now,” he sharply inhales.

We enter the bathroom, and with one arm slung around my ass to keep me upright, he turns on the shower. He props me up on a small shelf carved into the wall, one that is designed to be at waist height for him. The water pours from the showerhead above, and he dips into my mouth for a kiss as the hot water covers us. His fur slicks down flat against his skin, and my hair sticks to my face, and we aren’t moving. He softly grinds his hips a few times and I moan with pleasure as his knot rubs against my clit and I feel him shift inside me.

Time passes, and he reaches behind him for the shampoo and squirts a large amount into his palm. He lathers it into him, and I watch, mesmerized by him dragging his hands across himself. Once he’s properly soaped up, he reaches both hands to my scalp and massages it into my wet hair. I close my eyes, taking in the sensation of his claws grazing my head and the warm water splashing onto us. With a few alterations of position, he rinses us both off.

He then repeats the motions with conditioner, only running it through the length of his mane and the ends of my hair. I never thought I would find it so hot to be with a man who doesn’t only know what conditioner is, but knows how to use it. He takes soap and a washcloth and washes my skin with a tenderness that makes me wonder if I’m injured without my knowledge .

Just as he promised, he dries me off, carries me to his bed, and tucks us both beneath his blankets.

“You deserve to be cared for, Sigrid, even if you might not believe you deserve it,” he grasps my waist with warm hands and dots kisses in my damp hair.

Maddox doesn’t know all of my flaws and the reasons others have left yet. And maybe once he does, it’ll just make him leave like others have. For now, this quiet moment before we part for the day is something I need to savor.