“Or pups.”
Storm narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “Yes, clearly that much is the same in werewolf law, so―”
Another thought hit him. The reason why werecats were going extinct, why cat families looked down so much on homosexuality.
Could it be possible that was the true reason for it all? Too many werecats were finding their mates in their own sex, and with the
36
Marcy Jacks
species dying off, the remaining ones demanded that others marry and produce new werecats, whether they were mated or not?
He shook his head of the thought. There was no proof of that, and it was a long shot anyway. Also not his business since he was no longer welcome within his family and had no intention of ever making a litter of kittens.
“You’re quiet,” John said.
“I’m thinking.”
“I got that,” John said, his voice flat. “Look, I don’t want to force you into anything. If your debt says that you have to go where I go, even if I try and set you free, fine, but you’re not my sex slave. I won’t make you have a relationship with me. This is new to me, too.”
Storm raised his eyebrows. Such a confession as that must have been difficult for an alpha to get out.
He appreciated it, and he thought of how he’d stroked his cock in the shower, imagining the other man behind him, kissing his neck, holding him close, and fucking him.
John had done the same. Storm knew he had. He’d heard John’s soft moans coming from the other side of the paper-thin walls as he’d touched himself, clearly thinking of Storm.
In what position?
Storm shivered.
He’d desired men, secretly, and even when he’d been with Tony, enjoying his first sexual experiences with another man, he still hadn’t desired the human as much as he did John.
“You would hardly be forcing me into having sex with you.”
John’s head shot up.
Storm wasn’t about to deny it anymore if the man wanted it. If they both wanted it.
Hunger entirely forgotten about, Storm reached over and took hold of John’s hand. He got up, expecting to have to lead the stunned alpha to the bed, but he was still an alpha, despite his inexperience.
The moment John put together what it was that Storm wanted from him, it was he who was practically dragging Storm over to the bed.
Hunted and on the Run
37
They were of equal height, so John had no trouble when he grabbed Storm by the shoulders and pulled him forward for a harsh and sloppy kiss.
Storm was going to have to teach the man a thing or two, it seemed.
He was the sort of cat who enjoyed being lazily stroked. He grabbed John by the ears, forcing the man to separate from him and getting his attention in the process.
“Not like that.”
John’s eyes were clouded with lust. Whether it was his youth or the werewolves’ legendary mating stamina that was the cause, or even the fact that they were apparently mated, Storm could not say.
“How then?”
Storm did his best to lead John without taking control of the kiss.
He wanted to enjoy himself, not get in a battle for dominance with an alpha werewolf.
He brought John’s face forward, allowing the other man to kiss him once more. This time, when he opened his mouth, he refused to allow John to simply plow inside.
He gripped the younger man’s shoulders tightly, glaring at him with his one eye to give John a hint to his displeasure.
John took it, and he slowed down, allowing Storm’s tongue to come forward, both meeting halfway, both stroking.
Storm loved the feel of it, but John pulled away quickly with a laugh. “Your tongue is scratchy.”
Yes, yes, he’d been told that before. “Not because I use it to wash myself, let me tell you that.”
“I believe you,” John said, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not uncomfortable. I like it.”
“Good.” Storm pulled John forward again, using a little force of his own this time.
John was a quick study, and as their lips and tongues caressed, he found himself relaxing. His hands wrapped around John’s back
38
Marcy Jacks
instead of simply holding onto him by the shoulders. He noted the way John had closed his eyes as he enjoyed himself, and Storm shut his eye as well.
It was good, and he couldn’t help but enjoy himself. How could he not, when this man held him like he was worth something and kissed him like this?
This wasn’t just a make-out session, however. This was leading to something else, and Storm was reminded of that when John gripped him by the hips and pressed their bodies so closely together that their stiff cocks rubbed against each other beneath the denim they wore.
He groaned. John was the one to moan the loudest, and like before, his inexperience made him want it as fast and as hard as he could get it.
He thrust against Storm’s hips wantonly, until the back of Storm’s knees hit the bed and they both fell on top of it in a tangle of arms and legs.
“Fuck, that’s good,” John said on a gasp. He braced himself on his hands and kept right on humping against Storm.
He didn’t mind at all considering the friction he was getting. He grabbed John’s ass, his fingers clutching against it tightly. John had a finely toned ass, he noted.
They were kissing again, rutting against each other like animals.
Storm was into it, and he completely lost himself to the sensations.
He’d needed this. He hadn’t realized how much, but he had, and now that the man he’d been fantasizing about for the last three months was on top of him, touching him, he couldn’t stop even if he’d wanted to.
Though he was hesitant to do it, Storm wanted to be fucked, and he didn’t want to come inside someone else’s pair of jeans, so he put his fingers in John’s surprisingly soft hair and pulled his head back.
His face was flushed, and his eyes were half-lidded. He didn’t stop thrusting his hips. “What…what is it?” he asked, his breathy, gasping voice going straight to Storm’s cock and balls.
For a heart-seizing second, he’d almost forgotten what he’d
Hunted and on the Run
39
wanted to say. He was so close, so close.
“Stop, get off me.” He pushed against John’s shoulders, expecting something of a fight considering he was ordering around an alpha during sex.
He was stunned at how quickly John moved off him. The man’s eyes were wide with panic, and it occurred to Storm what he must be thinking. He jerked his head toward the bathroom. “There’s still some conditioner in the bathtub. We can use that.”
John frowned, but that panic never left his eyes. “For what?”
Storm looked at him. “Seriously?”
“Oh! Oh, right,” John flew to the bathroom as though he had hawk blood in him and was swooping toward prey.
Storm couldn’t even watch him go or bother to listen while he knocked over the other little bottles in the tub while he searched out the conditioner.
His hands went down to his fly, and he unbuttoned himself and kicked off the jeans with speed and desperation. They were a little tight on him, and still somewhat stuck to his skin because of the shower he’d taken, but he managed to get them off without tearing them.
He grabbed his cock by the base so quickly he actually hurt himself a little. He’d done it just in time, too, since, if he’d waited any longer, he would’ve come and come and come.
“Don’t even think about finishing off before I get to you,” John said, his voice a low warning growl as he came back into the room.
“Don’t worry. Not going to,” Storm said, smiling up at him.
He was at ease around him now. Their talk had calmed him, and now that he felt safer in John’s presence, he felt confident enough to tease the man a little.
John came back and put his knee up on the bed, he stared down at Storm like he wanted nothing more in the world than him. Then he looked at the bottle in his hands.
“I know what to do and everything, but you need to talk to me. I
40
Marcy Jacks
don’t want to hurt you or anything because I go too fast or―”
“You won’t hurt me,” Storm said, becoming impatient as he held onto his dick. His hand quivered with the urge to release the organ or stroke it and let himself come, but he wanted John inside of him too much.
“You may be a virgin, but I am not. I can handle taking it better than you would expect, but I will still guide you if that is what you wish,” he added quickly.
John’s chest deflated as he sighed with relief. Without any prompting from Storm, he twisted off the little cap on the small bottle of conditioner and then shook out some of the vanilla-scented lotion into his palms.
Storm took in a deep breath and lifted his knees. He held the one up with his free hand, and for his other leg he put his foot down flat on the bed, which exposed his asshole for John’s to see.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, then looked down at himself. “Fuck.
Should’ve taken off my jeans, too.”
“Later. Put your fingers inside me. One at first, shift it in and out, then add a second.”
John put his hand, the skin of which was slick and soft because of the conditioner, on Storm’s knee for balance. He pressed his finger, which had been thoroughly coated with cheap, motel hair conditioner, against Storm’s pucker.
He didn’t push in right away, however. His finger circled Storm’s asshole, coating the ring of muscle. Storm quivered, his breathing picking up. He pressed the back of his head into the scratchy blankets, fighting against the building pleasure. “God.”
Then John pressed his finger inside, and Storm sighed.
He hadn’t even realized that he’d shut his eye, and when he opened it again, he noted the way John stared down at what he was doing with a fixed fascination. He was concentrating so hard on the task at hand.
“Add a second finger,” Storm said.
Hunted and on the Run
41
John looked at him then nodded, and Storm felt the intruding digit.
“Doesn’t this hurt?” John asked, but from the look on his face as he watched his fingers disappearing into Storm’s asshole, it appeared as though he wouldn’t hear any response Storm had to give.
Maybe he only asked to take his mind off the lust that consumed him.
“Not anymore,” Storm said. “Burns a little. Be careful on your third finger, though. That one will hurt slightly, but I’ll be fine,” he added quickly.
It looked like John was passed the point of no return when it came to what they were doing. The alpha probably wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted to, but Storm didn’t want to risk that he would.
He moaned out loud when John’s fingers pushed against his prostate.
John’s head snapped up from what he was looking at to see Storm’s face.
Storm’s back arched, and he was now humping against John’s fingers. His grip tightened on his dick, and without wanting to, he found his hand moving, stroking, teasing.
John smiled and thrust his fingers in deep once more. This time Storm was able to bite down his moan, but he still squeezed his eye shut.
“Fuck, you look so fucking good. I can’t wait to fuck you,” John said.
That was a lot of
fucks
in one sentence. Storm managed to open his eye, even as John continued to thrust his fingers inside of him, adding a third as he did so. John’s eyes were gold. Yes, the most animal side of himself was definitely in command here.
“Get out of your jeans. I’m ready. Fuck me,” Storm commanded.
If he had to wait anymore to get John’s cock inside his pucker, then he would die.
John’s fingers slipped out of him, a little too quickly, and Storm’s
42
Marcy Jacks
body stiffened at the shock of pain. He couldn’t blame John for not noticing as he frantically struggled with the button and fly of his jeans. His jeans fit him much better than the ones Storm was wearing, even though they were still a little damp, so John managed to kick them off with less fuss than Storm had used.
He positioned himself, taking hold of his cock and lining it up with Storm’s entrance, and then he thrust inside.
John stiffened and moaned, and Storm felt the sudden warm surge of fluids spurting into him before John was fully sheathed inside.
“Fuck!” he snapped, face twisting in anger at himself.
Storm stroked his hair with his free hand. He doubted any words of “you simply need more practice” or “it will be better next time”
would have the desired effect, so he said nothing.
He brought John’s face down and captured his lips instead. Storm began stroking himself as they kissed, figuring he would get himself off like that, but John quickly put his hand down to stop him.
“Don’t worry, just give me another ten seconds,” he said.
Storm was about to ask him what he meant to do when he felt John’s shaft slowly thicken inside him, inflating and hardening.
His eyes widened in surprise. “That is…I can’t believe it!” He’d always known werewolves had amazing stamina, but this was ridiculous.
John chuckled. “I know. It’s a gift.”
Storm would have said something about his cockiness, but his words twisted into a garbled moan when John thrust his pelvis.
“Yes!” he cried out in a hiss, and then released his knee to rest on John’s shoulder. “Just like that!”
John was back to rutting against him like a, well, like a virgin, but Storm didn’t care. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed.
“You feel, so, ughh! Fuck!” John said, unable to even get out a full sentence as he thrust inside of Storm’s body.
Now that he’d already had an orgasm, it seemed as though his next one would take some time to earn. That was good. Storm wanted
Hunted and on the Run
43
this to go on for as long as possible, and for that very reason he was forced to take hold of the base of his cock once more to keep himself from spilling before he was ready.
There were no other words between them as they moved against each other. John’s skin was hot, and Storm never wanted to stop touching him, never wanted that punching of their bodies to stop or the push and pull of John’s cock inside of him to go still.