Page 39 of The Wulver's Bond
‘Moss,’ Arran snarled, desire and urgency riding on his voice.
‘Ah, ah,’ Moss teased, pulling away. ‘Don’t get too excited just yet.’
He noticed the claws of Arran’s toes scraped on the rock, gaining some purchase to strain against his fetters. That wouldn’t do.
Moss directed the vines around Arran’s upper body to pull, slowly lifting him off the ground. Arran let out a startled yelp as he lost all leverage, and his legs were pulled a little further apart by their restraints as he hung in midair.
Next, Moss gestured for a thin, smooth vine to creep up Arran’s leg. It wrapped around his thigh, then his hip, then the base of his dick.
Arran gave a coarse gasp as it tightened. The vine continued climbing, coiling around his length, sliding in its fluid. It looped a figure eight around the head, criss-crossing over the tender slit. His flesh turned a deeper purple as the vine squeezed. Arran released a ragged howl, thrusting into nothing with the urgent need to find release.
Moss watched him intently. Savoured every wrinkle on the Wulver’s deeply furrowed brow; the curl of his upper lip as he fought to subdue the howl. He was fighting so hard.
Fighting for me,it occurred to Moss, making him feel giddy. And he so desperately wanted Arran to lose.
‘That’s fucking beautiful, wolfie,’ Moss murmured, staring down at Arran’s dick. His cheeks grew hot. He was practically salivating at the sight of it. ‘Your dick is so pretty all trussed up. It’s mine, right? I own this pretty monster.’
A shocked splutter from Arran told him that he’d hit a nerve of some kind. Locking eyes with Arran, Moss sank down until his lips were level with the wolfman’s incarcerated, twitching dick.
‘Mine,’ he trilled in a bright sing-song, then engulfed the curved tip of Arran’s dick with his mouth.
Arran roared, thrusting hard, hitting the back of Moss’s throat.
Moss pulled away with a gagging laugh. ‘Fuck.Tut, tut, wolfie. You could’ve hurt me.’
Arran’s legs were shaking, his hips still erratically thrusting into thin air. He shook his head, struggling to control his tongue. ‘Don’t joke— about that—’
Moss sobered up a little. He ran his palms over Arran’s trembling thighs. ‘What if I want you to hurt me a little?’
Arran groaned; the sound rose from his core and reverberated around the cave. ‘Why would you want that?’
Moss’s fingers found Arran’s dick and formed a ring around its base over the top of the squeezing vine. ‘Maybe I want a go on your knot. See what it’s like for you to own me, the way you’re supposed to.’
There was a halting quality to Arran’s response. ‘I am not supposed to own you, Moss.’
Moss rolled up his coat sleeves, baring the twisted rope tattoos ‘You see these?’ he demanded, stretching out his forearms. ‘These mean youdoown me. Whether you like it or not. You still hold all the power here, wolfie.’
Arran groaned again, but this time it held a note of disappointment. ‘I thought we were past this, Moss. What has been done to you is wrong. I shall not abuse your curse. There is nothing I will ask of you.’
‘Nothing?’ Moss snapped, jumping to his feet. ‘You’re all trussed up like a fly in a web with your dick all defenceless and at my mercy and there’s fuckingnothingyou’d ask of me?’
Arran didn’t seem to have a dignified reply this time. He withdrew into his usual stoic silence. Only his slightly flattened ears betrayed what he might be feeling inside.
Moss exhaled heavily. He noticed his hands had balled into fists and his dick was going soft. It was his own fault. Why’d he picknowto initiate a conversation?
Because I want more than just an easy shag.
‘What about what I want?’ Moss muttered, before locking onto Arran’s gaze again. ‘Do I get to ask? I want what you have right now. For all the choices to be taken away from me. I want to be fuckingused, wolfie. I want to be shagged so hard I forget I exist. I want to be unmade by this pretty dick of yours.’
He stroked the veins along Arran’s length with his thumb, bidding the vine to slide back and forth in tandem. No growls came from Arran this time. Just a dark, brooding silence.
‘Won’t you use me, just a little? If I ask nicely?’ Moss knew he sounded defeated, pleading, even.
Arran huffed softly. ‘Boundaries are important, Moss. Are you asking me to command you?’
‘So formal,’ Moss sneered, rolling his eyes. ‘Yes, if you like. You can order me to untie you and bend over if it takes your fancy. I want… I just fucking want you to be honest about whatyouwant, too. You wanna bury yourself in this ass, right?’
‘Yes.’
