Page 33 of Little Bunny

“Elijah,” Matias warned, voice a rough scrape of restraint.

Elijah grinned, fingers hooking into the waistband, dragging it down just enough to free him. He’d felt Matias’s size before, through clothes, through teasing touches, but seeing it bare—hard, thick, already leaking at the tip—was something else entirely.

Lips parting, Elijah dragged his tongue along the flushed head, tasting the salt of precum, feeling the slight jerk of Matias’s hips as he did.

A slow, pleased hum.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he took Matias into his mouth.

The moment Matias’s cock slid past his lips, the sharp inhale above him sent a thrill down Elijah’s spine. So in control—always in control. But not now. Not in this.

A slow drag of his tongue, a hollowing of his cheeks, and Matias’s fingers tightened in his hair. Elijah couldn’t stop the smug little hum vibrating around the cock in his mouth. The sound earned him a deep, rumbling growl, one that sent heat straight between his legs.

Fuck, I like that.

He wanted more of it.

Flattening his tongue, he took Matias deeper, swallowing around him, breathing through his nose as he adjusted to the stretch. A curse slipped from Matias’s lips, rough and barely restrained.

The satisfaction of knowing he could do this, knowing he could pull reactions from the alpha who never slipped, never let his guard down—it only made Elijah bolder.

A slow pull back, lips dragging, tongue swirling.

The sharp jerk of Matias’s hips nearly stole his breath.

“Elijah,” Matias ground out, voice wrecked, vibrating with barely leashed power, “do that again.”

A shiver coursed down Elijah’s spine.

Matias didn’t ask. Matias demanded.

The dominance in that single command had Elijah’s cock twitching, aching. He obeyed without hesitation, swallowing him down once more, tightening his lips, sliding his hands up Matias’s thighs as he worked his mouth over his cock, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

The grip in his hair flexed, a heavy exhale filling the room.

Matias was letting him do this.

Elijah knew the wolf could take control, could fuck his mouth if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He allowed Elijah to push, to tease, to take—and it only made him want to give more.

His own cock throbbed, pressed tight against his stomach as he focused solely on Matias. His hands slid upward, fingers skimming over the ridges of Matias’s abs, nails scraping lightly, and a deep growl rattled the air.

Matias’s thighs tensed beneath his palms.

His control was slipping.

Another swirl of his tongue, another slow descent, and Matias’s chest rose on a sharp inhale, his fingers flexing in Elijah’s hair before gripping firm, guiding him, setting the pace.

“Yes,” Matias murmured, voice low, reverent, dark with satisfaction. “That’s it, conejito. Take all of me.”

Elijah moaned around his cock, sinking deeper, letting Matias’s precum coat his tongue, letting the weight of his shaft settle in his mouth.

Everything about this felt right.

Matias’s groan sent a pulse of heat straight through Elijah, the sound curling low and dark in his chest. A firm hand in his hair tightened just enough to guide, but not force—giving him room to tease, to push, to play.

Elijah took full advantage.

Dragging his tongue along the underside of Matias’s shaft, he traced the veins with deliberate, lazy strokes, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as the man’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.

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