Authors: Xander Daniels
Lips against Arthur’s neck, sucking, biting, teasing, then gone, moved to lips against his own lips, pressed hungrily and searching for entrance, cutting off anything Arthur may have thought of saying if he could even still think. Wanton noises, grinding hips against hips, shameless moans of pleasure.
A hand, trailing down over hips, sliding over, touching him right there, then hands fumbling with buttons on trousers, pulling down zippers, and then there was a large hand around his cock, warm, strong fingers wrapping around the throbbing flesh and stroking at a deliberately slow pace, pausing to rub a thumb over the tip. Whining, Arthur bucked his hips upwards into the sinful touch, begging it to go faster, harder, more.
A whisper, a breath of warm, delicious air against his ear. “You’re so hard for me,” it murmured, in a voice like rich velvet, wrapping itself around Arthur’s skull and enveloping his brain in yes. “How long have you been wanting this?” the voice went on.
A damn long time, Arthur wanted to say, but his voice had been reduced to moans by the skilful strokes of that strong hand, and he pulled his face away to look his lover in the eye. A pair of beautiful eyes, neither blue nor green but somehow also both, stared back at him, pupils dilated and a mischievous glint tinting the irises as he leaned in to close the gap between them again.
Arthur keened, his back arching, as Blake’s teeth latched onto his ear. A predatory growl escaped his lips, the sound shooting straight down to Arthur’s cock, and then –
Arthur gasped and opened his eyes. His phone alarm was blaring next to him, and he reached over blindly to try and shut it off. Every inch of Arthur’s body was on fire, tingling with pleasure that he didn’t understand, and his cock was rock hard between his legs. What the fuck had happened? Why had his nightmares of bears been replaced by… that? Not that he should complain, he supposed.
He tried to sit up, and felt how weak his knees and elbows were as he did so. He’d never had a dream so vivid, so erotic, so sensual before. He could almost still feel Blake’s hand around his him, could still hear the gentle caress of his commanding voice. And he hadn’t even met the guy. Arthur was setting some unrealistically high expectations for the real Blake Miles to meet. But what if Blake Miles did meet those expectations? Would Arthur be able to survive that at all? And if he didn’t meet them, what if he was amazing in some other ways? Was Arthur ready to meet this guy, who could still maybe be fictional?
Out of all the uncertainties Arthur had, there was only one thing he knew for sure. He was completely, totally, and utterly fucked.
Arthur drummed his fingers rhythmically against the diner table, the sound reverberating across the wooden surface and back towards him, seemingly increasing in volume the more he tried to focus on something else. The soda he’d ordered was already half finished, and he’d taken extra care to drink slowly. His eyes lazily traced the ticking of the second hand on the clock hung crookedly on an opposing wall. The hand was just completing yet another full circle, and it had completed many similar circles already – more than he could count. And Blake Miles was still not here.
Had he gotten stuck in traffic? Maybe he’d overslept (till four in the evening)? If he was anything like Arthur, that could be true. Arthur had barely gotten any sleep over the past few days leading up to their meeting, especially since he was haunted by nightmares of Bears, and by dreams of Blake’s eyes, and his stupid handsome face, and the imagined firmness of his strong arms, and the feel of those muscles beneath Arthur’s hands when he touched him…
Arthur shook himself. These were just dreams, and he shouldn’t be imagining them as though they were fact. For all he knew, nothing would happen between them, and it probably wouldn’t be nearly as magical if it did.
In any case, Blake still wasn’t here. Maybe he’d simply forgotten, or had gotten the wrong restaurant, or maybe Arthur had gotten the wrong restaurant, or maybe…
A voice nagging constantly in the back of Arthur’s head told him what he already knew to be true – he’d been stood up. Blake Miles had no intention of coming. It was quite possible that he’d never even intended to come in the first place. He’d made a fool of Arthur, and really, Arthur should have damn well known better. Blake Miles, if he was even real, was far too attractive to waste his time online dating. It had all probably been a bet or a gag or something, and now Arthur was sitting here, like a pathetic moron, and –
“Sorry, you been waiting long?”
The voice that had spoken was deep and slightly husky, as though the speaker had just rolled out of bed—a very sexy bed that made the user’s voice as smooth as its own sheets.
Arthur’s whole body jerked upwards and he spun towards the source of that heavenly voice, only for his shock to transform into a warm shiver across his skin.
Blake Miles was here. He was here, and he looked so much better in person.
Everything about Blake Miles emanated mystery. His stance was wide, as though he took up space intentionally and commanded it with purpose, and his lips were curled into a gentle but charming smirk. He had a light smattering of five o’clock shadow over his chin and lower cheeks, just the right amount for Arthur to know that he looked good with or without facial hair. His eyes – and Arthur still couldn’t tell if they were blue or green, and now it looked like they could be grey, too – were carefully guarded, shrouded in shadow, although there was a twinkle of mischief in them that could probably make anyone, guy or girl or in between, melt at just the sight of them. At the same time they also looked a little sad, as though they had seen too much and were tired of being able to see at all.
This was Blake Miles, in the flesh, and he was so, so much better than anything Arthur had imagined. He had on a plain white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans and had a black leather jacket over his shoulder. Because of course he would have a leather jacket, anything at all to make him look more brooding, more mysterious.
Arthur realised then that Blake Miles was staring at him (those eyes, God), and he remembered that he hadn’t answered the question – or even spoken or moved – since the Alpha had arrived.
“Umm, no! Not waiting, not long, no,” Arthur stammered, then immediately wanted to kick himself in the head (if it was anatomically possible). He didn’t need to look like a stammering imbecile already; they hadn’t even started talking properly yet and he already was giving impressions of an idiot.
Blake’s smirked widened. “Good,” he said, and swiftly plopped down into the seat in front of Arthur. “Blake Miles,” he added, holding out his hand. “But you probably know that already.” He smirked again.
God. This man was something else. Everything he did seemed like a perfectly choreographed routine in a dance performance. His words seemed tailored to fit his voice, as though each syllable had been pre-recorded and measurements had been taken so that his voice could be cut from the right material to decorate with.
Arthur reached out and shook the offered hand. It was warm and slightly rough, and bigger than Arthur’s. At the touch of skin-on-skin, an almost primal urge flared up within Arthur’s chest, blooming into a passionate fireball within his lungs. He quickly withdrew his hand and took a very, very deep breath. Which was a mistake, of course, because Arthur’s enhanced sense of smell caught a whiff of Blake’s scent, and his nerve endings ran alight.
Blake was a Bear. He was an Alpha Bear. In an instant, a rush of adrenaline pumped its way through Arthur’s bloodstream. He could actually feel his pupils dilating and blood rushing southwards and gathering at a particular area…
Arthur shook himself quickly, trying to dispel his natural instinct. He then realised Blake was watching him again; he’d forgotten to reply once more.
“Arthur Morgan,” he said quickly. “Which you, uh, already knew, too.”
Blake leaned back in his seat. “I did.” He flashed Arthur another half-smile and there were those damn butterflies again. “So, what’s your story?”
Arthur leaned down to take a sip of his soda. “I’m sorry?”
“What were you doing on Shiftr?” Blake asked. “You don’t seem like the one-night-stand kinda guy.”
Arthur felt his heart sink a bit. “Is that what you’re here for?”
“No,” Blake replied. “It’s what I was on the app for, just like everyone else.”
Arthur put down his glass. “I see. Well, I’m not that kind of guy, sorry to disappoint.”
“I said I was on the app for that,” Blake said seriously. “But that’s not what I’m here for.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I believe that you’re…” Blake reached out to touch Arthur’s hand, which was resting on the table. His fingers deftly caressed Arthur’s own, and at that one touch, Arthur’s instincts kicked in again – his body tensed as shivers travelled down his spine, his eyes widened, his pulse quickened, his brain began to drift to unchartered territories. “…special,” finished Blake.
Arthur whipped his hand away, terrified of the feelings coursing through him. He tried to focus. “You think I’m stupid,” he laughed. “How many boys have you told that to?”
Blake was smirking again. “I don’t talk much to the other boys. All we do is give each other an address and go.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding me.” He felt his cheeks flush scarlet at the very idea of it.
Blake shook his head. “Honest.” He leaned in further, and Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. “You ever heard of the concept of Mates, Arthur?”
The way Blake said Arthur’s name was almost too sexy to be legal. The blood had collected in Arthur’s cheeks and was pumping a little more quickly than normal – well, if his heart rate whenever he was doing anything even remotely involving Blake could be considered normal. “Of course I have, Blake,” Arthur replied. The name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, as if he’d spent years learning to pronounce it to exact perfection. It was weird, but a good kind of weird.
The dangerous, cheeky glint in Blake’s eyes seemed to become even more worryingly treacherous now. “And how does that work, pray tell?”
Arthur cleared his throat and straightened his back in an attempt to look taller and of higher authority. “It’s when two Shifters get together during their mating season.”
“Close, close,” Blake said. “But not quite right.”
“Well, then why don’t you explain it to me?” Arthur quipped.
Blake smirked.
“Why don’t I, indeed?” Yet another aspect of Blake shrouded in mystery. He frowned at the menu that had been resting on the table since Arthur arrived. “You hungry, or not really?”
Well, Arthur had been hungry earlier, but his stomach was now full of butterflies so he wasn’t sure if there was room for any food at all. “Not really.”
Blake looked pleased by this fact. “Let’s ditch this place and go for a ride,” he said, standing up.
Taken aback by this seemingly random decision, Arthur stood up too, automatically mirroring him. “I don’t have a car, I got here by bus,” he said.
“Then you’re in luck,” Blake smirked, and he led the way out of the diner.
Arthur wondered, vaguely, if every moment with Blake was going to be spontaneous, sudden, and mysterious. He then realised that he couldn’t give less of a fuck. He wanted so many more confusing moments, even if their acquaintance was just going to be short-lived.
I’m so screwed, Arthur thought, for the umpteenth time since he’d met Blake, and with that idea in mind, he rushed out of the diner after him.
Blake Miles drove a giant motorcycle. Because of course he did. Of course.
Arthur had never ridden a motorcycle before, but it was an adrenaline rush in itself. The wind was whipping against his face and eyes as he strained to keep them open. His arms were wrapped tightly around Blake’s waist, and Blake’s scent was filling Arthur’s nostrils in terribly distracting ways. He had never been this hard in his entire life. He could feel the muscles on Blake’s back rippling when he moved, and it did not help at all that he was pretty sure Blake could feel his erection from this position. Especially since he’d looked back over his shoulder to shoot a smirk in Arthur’s general direction quite a few times.