Page 13 of Stalked (Mating Run #3)

Chapter thirteen

Toby

"You're mine now, Toby," Mason growled, his voice low and rough. "My mate. My perfect human mate."

The words sent a thrill through Toby, his cock twitching against his stomach. Toby's mind reeled as he felt Mason's knot swell within him, the pressure intense and unyielding.

He'd known, in the abstract, that knotting was how werewolves bound themselves to their mates. Yet, he'd never considered it as a real possibility for himself. He'd known that tonight, a werewolf might take him, might use his body for pleasure, but the idea of being knotted had seemed as distant as the moon.

But then Mason had asked, and Toby had answered without hesitation, a fervent "Yes" that surprised even himself. He hadn't known how much he wanted it until that moment, Mason's strong arms wrapping around him, his scent enveloping him.

Now, with Mason's knot stretching him wide, Toby felt a mix of pleasure and pain that was almost overwhelming. He could feel every inch of Mason, the thick base of his cock pulsing inside him, the coarse hair of his thighs brushing against Toby's smooth skin. Mason's hands gripped his hips, holding him firmly, possessively, as if Toby were something precious, something to be cherished.

Toby moaned as Mason's hips rocked gently, the knot tugging at his rim with each movement. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that had him seeing stars. He clenched around Mason's knot, savoring the way it filled him so completely.

As Mason's knot pressed against that sweet spot deep inside him, Toby's world shattered.

"Fuck—" The word tore from his throat. Nothing existed beyond this—beyond being filled, claimed, ruined.

His body wasn't his own anymore. It belonged to the sensation, to the werewolf grinding into him with savage intent, to the knot that stretched him beyond what he'd thought possible. Every nerve ending screamed with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

Mason's movements grew feral, the measured control fracturing into something desperate and animal. Each brutal grind sent lightning racing up Toby's spine, building pressure behind his eyes, in his balls, at the base of his cock.

The pressure inside him coiled tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point—and then it snapped. His orgasm ripped through him like a hurricane, starting where they were joined and consuming him whole. His cock pulsed violently, painting hot streaks across his chest and throat as a broken sound tore from his lips.

It didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not with Mason's knot grinding relentlessly against his prostate, dragging his climax out until he thought he might die from the pleasure of it.

Mason captured his mouth in a bruising kiss that tasted of blood and possession. Without hesitation, Toby kissed back with savage hunger, all inhibition burned away by the fire between them. His tongue battled Mason's, desperate and demanding. This wasn't the careful student who'd second-guessed every human interaction. This was something wild that had always lived inside him, waiting to be unleashed.

He bit at Mason's lower lip, swallowing the wolf's growl, clawing at broad shoulders like he could somehow crawl inside him. The taste of copper bloomed between them—whose blood, he couldn't tell. Didn't care.

When they broke apart, panting and wild-eyed, Toby barely recognized himself. The boy who'd lived behind walls of sarcasm and caution was gone.

In his place was someone who knew exactly how to hunger.

Mason's eyes flashed molten heat, pupils blown wide as he stared down at Toby with an expression that bordered on worship. Sweat gleamed on his powerful body, muscles straining beneath bronze skin as he fought for control and lost.

Toby watched, mesmerized by the transformation. This wasn't just physical pleasure, this was Mason coming undone. The powerful alpha, the creature that other werewolves feared, was trembling above him, vulnerable in his need.

"Toby—" Mason's voice broke on his name, the sound so raw it made something in Toby's chest ache with fierce satisfaction. He'd done this. He'd reduced this powerful being to desperation.

Mason's rhythm faltered, his powerful body going rigid. His head tipped back, exposing the corded column of his throat as a sound—half roar, half howl—tore from deep in his chest.

Then Toby felt it. The first hot pulse of Mason's release, deep inside where they were locked together.

"Oh," he gasped, unprepared for the sensation despite everything they'd done.

Mason's cock throbbed violently, pumping surge after surge of wet heat into him. The pressure was immediate and intense—with nowhere to go, each hot spurt only added to the fullness, stretching Toby from the inside out.

"So much," Toby whispered, half-delirious as another pulse made him gasp. "How are you—"

Mason growled in response, his hips grinding forward as if trying to push even deeper, his knot swelling impossibly larger as it continued to pump Toby full.

The wet heat spread through Toby's core, a liquid warmth that radiated outward from where they were joined. He could feel every throb, every twitch of Mason's cock as it emptied inside him, marking him from the inside out.

On instinct, Toby arched his back, looking down at where their bodies met. What he saw made his spent cock give a valiant twitch.

His normally flat stomach had a visible swell—not large, but unmistakable. The slight distention moved with each pulse of Mason's release, physical evidence of just how thoroughly he'd been claimed.

"Oh my god," Toby breathed, reaching down to press a trembling hand against the slight curve. The pressure of his palm made Mason groan, heightening the sensation for both of them.

Mason's eyes, still glowing with preternatural light, fixed on where Toby's hand rested against his distended stomach. "Next time," he growled, voice rough with satisfaction, "I'll fill you up even more. Mark you so deeply you'll feel me for days."

Next time.

The words cut through Toby's pleasure-haze like a splash of cold water. Something vulnerable and wounded flickered across his face before he could stop it, an old defense mechanism kicking in despite the intimacy they'd just shared.

"You've already come," he said with forced lightness, summoning a wry smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You don't have to keep up the dirty talk."

Mason went still above him. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached down and took Toby's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up until their eyes met.

"Look at me," Mason commanded softly.

Toby did, unable to hide the uncertainty that had crept in to replace the blissed-out surrender of moments before.

"I don't say things I don't mean." Mason's voice was quiet but intense, his gaze unwavering. "What happened between us wasn't just rutting in the woods. It wasn't a game." His thumb stroked along Toby's jawline with surprising gentleness. "I'm going to prove my intentions to you every day, every night, until you see yourself as I see you. Until you understand that I'm not going anywhere."

Toby's breath caught in his throat. The cynical part of him—the part that had been hurt before, that expected to be left behind—wanted to dismiss the words as post-orgasmic sentiment. But there was something in Mason's eyes, something ancient and certain, that made it impossible to disbelieve him.

"You don't even know me," Toby whispered, the last feeble protest of a heart afraid to hope.

Mason's hand tightened on Toby's jaw, not painfully but with enough pressure to command his full attention. The werewolf's eyes flashed briefly, a reminder of the predator beneath the man.

"I know enough," Mason growled, voice dropping to a timbre that vibrated through Toby's bones. "I know how your breath catches when I touch you. I know the sound you make when you surrender." His thumb traced Toby's lower lip. "I know you hide behind that clever mind because you're afraid of letting people see how deeply you feel."

Toby's eyes widened. No one had ever read him so accurately before.

"And you," Mason continued, leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touched, "know enough about me too. You've seen what I am. What I need." His eyes darkened. "You've felt the beast inside me, and instead of running, you opened yourself to it."

The truth of those words resonated in Toby's chest. He did know Mason—not the surface details of where he'd grown up or what books he liked, but something far more fundamental. He knew the possessive curl of Mason's fingers against his skin, the quiet intensity of his focus, the control that ran like steel beneath his wildness.

Toby was accustomed to analyzing every decision, weighing pros and cons, overthinking until opportunities passed him by. His academic mind always demanded more data, more certainty before acting.

But this—this wasn't a decision his analytical mind could make. This was blood and bone and instinct.

Toby's lips curled into a sly grin, his eyes regaining some of their earlier mischief despite their compromising position. "For someone who claims to know me so well," he said, voice deliberately light, "you seem awfully concerned with convincing me."

The teasing challenge hung in the air between them, Toby's meaning clear beneath the words. He wasn't pushing Mason away. This was acceptance wrapped in playfulness—a language Mason already seemed fluent in.

Mason's eyes narrowed, catching the shift immediately. A low, rumbling sound emerged from his chest, not quite a growl but something equally possessive. "Careful," he warned, though his lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. "I might take that as an invitation to prove myself again." His hand tightened where it still gripped Toby's chin. "And I'm not sure you could handle another demonstration just yet."

The threat—or was it a promise?—sent a shiver through Toby that had nothing to do with fear.

"Mmm, overconfidence," Toby replied, arching an eyebrow even as his pulse quickened. "Typical alpha behavior. All talk, I'm sure."

Mason's answering growl was anything but playful, his teeth suddenly very near Toby's throat. "Keep testing me," he murmured against the sensitive skin, "and we'll see just how much talk it is."

Before Toby could formulate a clever retort, Mason shifted their position, carefully rolling them to their sides without separating their still-joined bodies. The movement tugged at where they were connected, drawing a gasp from Toby as Mason's knot pressed against that oversensitive spot inside him.

Then Mason did something unexpected—he pulled Toby close, wrapping powerful arms around him and tucking Toby's head beneath his chin.

The simple act of being held rendered Toby momentarily speechless. Mason's body curled protectively around his, one hand splayed possessively across Toby's lower back, the other cradling the nape of his neck. Their legs tangled together, Mason's much larger frame encompassing him completely.

Toby had been kissed. Had been fucked. But this—this quiet, tender holding—was entirely new territory.

Heat radiated from Mason's body, chasing away the night's chill. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm that Toby found his own breathing unconsciously matching. Against his ear, Mason's heartbeat thundered, gradually slowing to a powerful, steady cadence.

A strange realization dawned on Toby as he nestled closer, inhaling Mason's wild, earthy scent. In all the explicit fantasies he'd crafted for his anonymous followers, in all the lurid scenarios he'd imagined and shared, he'd never once written about being held . He'd detailed every possible dirty act, every position, every filthy word—but never this. Never the simple act of being cradled against someone's chest, feeling simultaneously protected and cherished.

It warmed him from the inside out, this unexpected intimacy. Toby found himself melting into the embrace, tension he hadn't even realized he was carrying seeping from his muscles.

Around them, the forest had gone quiet. Toby became dimly aware of subtle movements in the surrounding trees—shadows detaching themselves, moving away into the deeper woods. The voyeur werewolves who had watched their coupling were retreating, slinking back into the darkness without challenge or comment.

They wouldn't challenge an alpha for his mate.

Toby smiled against Mason's chest, and burrowed closer.