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Rocco pulled off his helmet and set it aside on the grass nearby rather than hanging it off his handlebars.

Stepping closer, Emilio ran a hand through his mate’s copper hair just because he could, loosening the strands that had been pressed flat.

Rocco caught his wrist as he went to drop his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’ve been staring at your ass riding that bike for three fucking hours and I couldn’t take it anymore,” Rocco growled, voice like gravel.

Emilio’s nostrils flared as he scented his mate’s arousal. His cock was diamond-hard in less than a breath.

“Is that right?” he asked.

“Hands on the saddle, puppy,” Rocco said, spinning them so Emilio was facing his Harley.

Emilio paused, torn. Everything in him wanted to take charge, chase Rocco through the quiet trees, and mount him deep in the forest where he could sink his teeth into his neck and claim him forever. He didn’t mind a bit of give and take, but it wasn’t in his nature to submit.

Rocco hissed in frustration. “Or you can fuck me. Whatever. I don’t care. I just need us to be touching. Now.”

He would’ve teased his mate for his desperation if he hadn’t also been so hard and aching with need the entire drive that he couldn’t even remember how they’d got here .

Because you need to claim him already , his wolf argued. Although a mating bond probably would’ve made it even worse if that was possible.

Giving in to the desire thrumming between them, Emilio yanked at his belt, undoing his fly and pushing his pants and boxers down to his ankles before leaning forward to place his hands on the Harley’s saddle.

Rocco groaned, and Emilio heard a packet tearing before warm, slick fingers pressed to his hole, teasing his entrance with the lube.

“Just do it already. We’re late.” Not really true. They’d been racing down the road fast enough that they had time to spare.

Rocco ignored him, pressing two fingers inside at once and crooking them just right in a move that had Emilio rocking back onto his hand, gritting his teeth to keep from begging.

The wind in the trees and soft birdsong around them faded away beneath both their sharp panting breaths as Rocco patiently but unrelentingly opened him up as fast as possible.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Rocco said, sparking a whine of protest from Emilio as he withdrew his fingers.

“You fucking asshole ,” Emilio growled, spinning around to bare his fangs at his mate.

Rocco just grinned before bending down to unzip his boots and remove his pants. The chill winter air he’d been too distracted to even notice warmed around them as the familiar thrum of Rocco’s magic surrounded them.

Okay, maybe not an asshole.

Emilio reached down to stroke himself, dripping pre-cum onto the gravel as he stood entranced by his mate’s body. Shrugging off his jacket, Rocco reached behind his head to pull his t-shirt over his head.

Emilio whimpered with need as his mate stood tall and naked under the afternoon sun.

It took him a minute to process what Rocco was doing as he flung his T-shirt over the bike’s saddle before swinging a leg over it and sitting down like he was about to head back out onto the road with no clothes on whatsoever.

The roar of the Harley’s engine broke through the peaceful calm of the glade like a hurricane as Rocco patted his muscled thigh. “Come here, puppy. Ride me.”

Emilio had never moved so fast. All but flying through the air as he gripped his mate’s shoulders so he could straddle him on the low-slung seat.

Squeezing the last of the lube onto his fingers, Rocco wrapped a hand around both their lengths, jerking them together as the vibration of the bike’s engine travelled up through their bodies.

“You gonna be okay like this?” Rocco gasped.

It took a minute for Emilio to realise he was basically gnawing on his mate’s throat as Rocco worked them over.

Swearing to himself, he froze. The reasons he shouldn’t bond Rocco were becoming less and less important to him, but he wasn’t going to bond him at a rest stop en route to a rival pack’s territory, where they needed to shut an arms dealer down.

No matter how much his wolf was howling at him.

Using one of the foot pegs for leverage, he lifted himself up until he could spin around and face away from his mate.

“Fuck, puppy,” Rocco growled, both his hands grabbing onto his ass cheeks in a way that had him choking back a howl before he could sit back down.

Bracing himself as well as he could on the fuel tank and handlebars, he arched his hips until he could reach back around himself to line his mate’s cock up with where he needed it to be.

As the head of Rocco’s cock breached his hole, Emilio’s shaft pressed almost uncomfortably hard into the leather of the seat.

In this position, the vibration of the rumbling engine sent shockwaves of pleasure through him, and he couldn’t resist reaching out a trembling hand to rev the engine.

The sound Rocco made from where his head pressed close to his ear was as much a groan of pleasure as it was laughter at his antics.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Rocco whispered, gripping tight to Emilio’s hips and pulling him back until he was fully impaled on him. “So beautiful. So needy. So mine .”

Each sentence was punctuated by another thrusting movement as Rocco leaned forward and intertwined their fingers on the handlebars, stroking over his wedding band.

“One day I’m going to have you like this on the open road,” Rocco gasped.

Emilio huffed out a laugh, rocking back onto Rocco’s body as much as their position allowed. “You’d wreck us on the first corner.”

“You forget. My bike’s powered by magic, not fuel. It doesn’t wreck.”

“Damn. Maybe there are some advantages to having a witch for a mate,” Emilio said, too far gone to even pretend that wasn’t what they were to each other anymore.

“You have no idea,” Rocco said.

A breeze ruffled his hair, and suddenly, just like their wedding, Emilio was being touched everywhere .

The air itself came to life against his skin as phantom pressure pinched at his nipples, nipped at his neck, traced a cold path down the inside of his hip in that spot that always made him shiver.

“Open your mouth,” Rocco ordered, his movements speeding up and growing ever harder as he chased the release they were both desperate for.

He didn’t mean to obey, but the change in rhythm had his mate pegging his prostate just right with every movement and his mouth opened of its own volition as he cried out in pleasure.

As soon as it gaped wide, the air he was gasping changed, hardening.

Instinctively, he closed his lips around the intrusion, sucking on it just like he’d sucked on Rocco’s cock the night before as he traced the invisible likeness of a vein with his tongue.

The familiar taste of Rocco’s magic flooded his mouth, ravaging any thread of control he’d been clinging to.

Intoxicating him more than any shifter alcohol could.

“Fuck, puppy. Just like that. I can feel everything you’re doing,” Rocco gasped, becoming even more frenzied as he wrapped a hand around Emilio’s throat.

Oh shit . It was just like the plug had been, only this time there was no metal.

The air itself had become a dildo that was fucking his mouth, magnifying his mate’s pleasure and driving Emilio crazy with the sensation of being filled everywhere by his mate’s body and power.

His mind turned delightfully hazy as his lungs strained to breathe.

Reaching behind him, Emilio clenched his fingers tight around Rocco’s glutes, adding his shifter strength to his mate’s efforts to fuck him into oblivion.

“Too much?” Rocco asked, letting the sensation in Emilio’s mouth subside.

“Not enough. I want it down my throat,” Emilio rasped.

“So fucking perfect for me.” Rocco wrapped a hand around his throat as the magic surged back inside him, not squeezing but just resting there right where the sensation in his mouth was driving down to.

It was a race to the finish from there. Both of them too desperate to do anything but rut against each other until pleasure exploded between them and their bodies collapsed onto the still-rumbling leather and steel.

Emilio’s head spun with satisfaction as he drew in deep, gasping breaths of air in time to the still-rumbling engine.

Finally, Rocco turned off the motor and sat up, removing the weight of his body from Emilio’s back so he could breathe better. He didn’t need to breathe. He just needed to exist in this moment forever.

“Damn, Emmy. I think I’m in love,” Rocco said.

Emilio swallowed hard. That made two of them.

Lifting himself up, he winced as Rocco’s still semi-hard cock slipped free from his body and cum gushed everywhere. He’d already made a mess of the fuel tank. The T-shirt Rocco had sat them on was wrinkled on the ground somewhere nearby.

“How often have you used your power to do that with someone?” Emilio asked, trying and failing to keep the jealousy from his voice that was still raspy from deep-throating a replica of his mate’s cock made entirely of solidified air. Witches were freaky.

“Only ever with you. Using my magic that way is too intimate for a hook-up.”

“You may never get the smell of cum out of the leather,” Emilio joked as relief flooded through him, unwilling to go down the rabbit hole of emotion Rocco’s statement led to.

Smirking, Rocco picked up the T-shirt and got off the bike to try and wipe Emilio clean. “Good.”

“We can’t go into a Silverlake Pack bar smelling like this.”

They both had a change of clothes with them, but there was no shower to wash the intoxicating scent of his mate’s cum from his skin.

“I’ll take care of it, puppy. That scent is just for me.”