Page 27 of The Wulver's Bond
Arran wondered if Weed had any inkling how hard he was fighting against his bindings. The muscles in Arran’s arms felt like they might snap. His legs trembled from the exertion. The urge to seize hold of Weed and plough him into the earth was horribly, ferociously urgent, and a part of him was genuinely worried for Weed if he managed to get loose.
Weed’s palm grazed the shape of his cock through the fabric. Arran gave a deep, rumbling growl from the back of his throat.Get off my fucking cock.
The growl had the opposite of the desired effect. Weed flattened his hand over it and pressed down, shooting an intense thrill through Arran’s spine. His hips thrust impulsively into Weed’s palm, growl deepening in warning.
Weed licked his lips. A faint air of hesitance entered his voice. ‘Seems like you really want this, wolfie. What shall I do with you?’
He popped the button on Arran’s jeans. Then slowly pulled down the zipper, drawing more aching friction over Arran’s throbbing flesh. Pulling down the stiff denim, Weed gave an appreciative moan as Arran’s full length came into view. ‘No undies for you either, eh, wolfie? Only one layer between me and this monster. That’s hot, wolf boy.’
Don’t call me that.
Arran’s chest heaved, breaths coming faster and more ragged already.
He didn’t know what he’d do if Weed touched him. Actually touched him. Maybe he’d go feral, drown in wolfish instinct and never come back. Or maybe he’d just pass out, overwhelmed by the sensation alone.
Weed was staring at his cock. Unlike the rest of Arran’s body, it was smooth and hairless. The skin was a dark grey with a deeper, purplish tinge to his swollen cockhead, which tapered slightly to a curved point. The whole length was a good ten inches long, with a girth that widened towards the base, where his currently slack knot lay hidden in the thick veins under his flesh.
Arran craned his neck, trying and failing to see what Weed’s hands might be doing. One still rested on his left thigh. The other… the other…
…pressed flush against his burning cock.
Fuck.
Arran’s back arched, a desperate hiss managing to escape his clenched teeth. One plant tendril broke from around his wrist as he wrenched it—instantly replaced and yanked back by another. His teeth buried deep into the thick root inside his mouth.
‘You like that?’ Weed whispered. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the base of Arran’s cock. ‘How about this?’
The hiss turned into a muffled roar. Arran thrashed against his restraints. A few more roots snapped under his strength and his left arm tore free. He almost—almost—got his claws to Weed’s face.
‘That was close,’ Weed said mildly, watching a new coil of honeysuckle confine Arran once again.
Fucking hell. Fucking HELL.
Arran was reeling. Weed could keep him down, and he wasn’t the least bit afraid. His calm amusement wasinfuriatinglyarousing.
The swipe seemed to have given him pause, however. Weed’s nose scrunched, his mouth screwing up as some internal conflict played out on his face.
The roots clamped around Arran’s jaw loosened and slid away. Weed’s gaze flitted uncertainly to his. ‘You can tell me to stop, right? It’s got to be an order.’
‘I will hurt you,’ Arran growled urgently, the most important thing he had to say.
Weed’s face fell. He looked upset, even angry. ‘Yeah, well. I knew you would, eventually. Better get my kicks in while I can then, right?’
‘No! I amafraid—’ Arran’s response was muffled as another root cinched his mouth shut.
‘Stupid,’ Weed muttered. ‘I mean, I knew I was pushing it with this. But can you believe I thought you’d be different? I thought… I don’t know what I thought.’
Arran knew his growls sounded wild and fought to rein them in. He shook his head frantically from side to side, hoping Weed would comprehend.That’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant.
Weed slumped, staring despondently at Arran’s cock. ‘I guess I should get my revenge in now, right? Before you tear me to pieces, or whatever else you’ll do to me.’
Arran screwed his eyes shut and threw his pride to the wind. He forced out an embarrassing whine, sounding for all the world like a house-dog in distress.
‘What sort of noise isthat?’ Weed exclaimed with suspicion. ‘Did someone step on your paw?’
But he took the hint and allowed the roots to loosen around Arran’s mouth again, just enough for him to speak.
Arran suppressed an instinctual snarl. He wanted so badly to lunge at Weed.
