The Walls of Jericho

Roller Coaster

Channing fumbled with the door with one hand, then snapped the lock on the knob with a crisp click. The metallic sound echoed off the tiled bathroom walls and floor like a ricocheting pingpong ball.  It seemed to take forever to process in my head that he’d locked us in here together, ensured a privacy that my hospital room didn’t.

What I was processing at the speed of light was every slow, sensuous pass of his thumb around the taut cherry tip of my breast and the sensations it sent shuddering like an earthquake through me. The delirium-inducing feeling of the pad of his thumb against my skin. The clean, salty-ocean-y delectably male scent of him suffusing the air and drugging my rational brain until only that strange internal monologue has a voice—the one that’s more than happy obliging him. A husky sigh of pure pleasure slides past my lips.

Want me,> the seductive alpha voice commands.

Immediately, it receives its dutiful and stupidly submissive reply.

The pressure of his thumb intensifies and I collapse against his unyielding frame. I feel positively little against him.

It felt good what he did with his mouth on my fingers in the diner—was that yesterday? I don’t care anymore—but this. Holy crap. This was orders of magnitude better.

Mmmm. Yes.> His agreement purrs. Drunk on everything about Channing, I can’t discern between his physical voice and the one of his alpha compulsion that speaks without sound.

The pulsing surge between he and I settles insistently into my stimulated feminine core. I swear it feels like it has a current of its own. A subtle swell like a creek overrun with spring thaw. Same trickling wetness too.

Beneath my hand still flat against his sculpted torso, his chest swells. I hear the sudden hiss of a deep breath through his nose, watch as his nostrils flare. The spiraling galaxy of white-blue stars in the blue darkness of his eyes pulses. Brighter. Swirls hypnotically. “Jericho,” he groans softly. "God, you smell good."

To avoid hurting my ribs, his opposite hand holds me upright by cupping my bottom and it’s another agony I never want to end. I feel a hundred times more naked than I’ve ever felt before. Like I’m stripped not only to my bare skin, but to the most primal center of my being. Naturally, my s****l arousal doesn’t mitigate that sensation at all.

His splayed fingers gently grip and subtly massage, compounding the stimulation of his thumb at my breast. Channing ducks his head and brushes a kiss over my lips. Then his cheek is beneath my chin, tipping my head back to give him more access. A gap opens between our bodies as he bends to reach lower and the cooler air sends rippling waves of gooseflesh over me.

He leaves a wet kiss in the hollow of my throat, then on my sternum as he kneels. Consumed by my own curiosities, I slide my hands over his shoulders, fingertips probing, mentally creating another three-dimensional rendering, this one of his magnificent body beneath his clothes. His eyes grip mine, feeding me slow warnings and reassurances. I bite back a frustrated sob as his hand drifts away from my breast, then slides into place over my bottom, cupping the other cheek like its mirror.

Another deep inhale fills the sticky silence between us. The clench of his splayed fingers increases, kneading, and drifts tantalizingly close to center. I hadn’t realized how big his hands were. The callused heat of them cupped around my bottom provides some perspective momentarily before their drugging warmth and weight overwhelm everything else.

Yield.> The scratchy soft scruff along his cheek sensitizes my skin with its sweet roughness. Then a searing electric jolt makes me stiffen as it brushes over the eager peak of my breast, followed in short measure by the contrasting softness of his fine lips.

The reward is swift, certain and so acutely achingly pleasurable I gasp out loud. His hot mouth opens suddenly, closing over the erect bud. I jerk as the new sensation shoots all the way through me, rocks me from head to toe and back again. My fingers clutch in his dark hair, and I struggle to catch my breath.

Each soft kiss, each tender touch, stroking, caressing, feeling his way through uncharted territory leaves a permanent mark, imprints upon that receptive part of me forever.

There’s a pleading aspect to this request, and the prospect of getting closer to him sends another spiking jolt of need through me. Channing’s mouth moves to the other straining tip, testing, tasting, urging my surrender. Summoning me to follow.

The last reserves of my resistance crumble and I all but topple onto the rigid strength of him with an anxious laugh. I’m soothed when he laughs too, low and husky. His teeth close on the fleshy slope between my neck and my shoulder, restraining me—not hurting, but holding me like an animal.

With one hand, he spreads the towel on the floor haphazardly. He drugs me senseless with a few more kisses, then carefully, lowers me to it, supporting my body with steely strength so that I’d have forgotten my ribs entirely if it hadn’t been for the IV drip line tangling about my arm. Untwisting it singlehandedly, he let his gaze roam over my body.

Suddenly shy, I cross my arms over me, and Channing growls.

He growls possessively.

In a way that makes me want to preen.

He catches my hands, taking both of them in one of his and lifts them above my head. Keenly, he watches for the slightest hint of pain on my injured side and looks pleased detecting none. His eyes are dark and glassy, the circling white-blue swirls brightening in intensity as they peruse the buffet spread before him, trying to decide where to start.

“It’s not fair.”

My whisper halts him abruptly. The scarred brow twitches upward, mocking and amused. I promise you, the pleasure will be more than equitable for you.>

I shake my head.

His expression darkens, clouds his brow. His eyes track my movement as my hand lifts, then moves to his shoulder.

Gingerly, I tug at the collar of his t-shirt. “You’re completely dressed.”

Something primitive and instinctive roils between us, amplifying the feral heat in a positive feedback loop until I’m breathless with anticipation.

Sensing it, one corner of Channing’s delightful mouth twists upward. As if waiting for that very thing, he reaches over his head and tugs the t-shirt off of him.

There are no adequate descriptors for the perfection of the sculpted hard lines of him. Tan and fit. Hairless and golden as the statue of a god. I couldn’t have exhaled in that moment if I’d wanted to. It would have profaned the divine holiness of his washboard abs. I press my fingertips over my lips and let my wide eyes skim him.

I should probably offer up a sacrifice. Pray for the continued blessings of this god before me.

His fingers close around my slender wrist, lifting it from my face. He turns my palm towards him, his eyes locked on mine, and kisses each fingertip. I can’t stop my hiccupping gasps as he lowers it, flattening my palm against his smooth chest.

Touch me. Explore.>

Sparking jolts of electricity charge the air between us, short-circuiting my brain. What few thoughts I can muster are reduced to a scorching need as my hand drags over his warm, wonderful mouthwatering body, lingering over the process. It’s the hottest experience of my life, hands down.

My fingertips catch on the waist of his jeans. I let my eyes hover there, a twinge of expectation-tinted pleasure knocking around inside me. My gaze flicks up to find him watching me intently with hooded eyes.

“Take them off.” The way my voice quivers, the pitch rising at the end, it sounds more like a question than the demand I had hoped it would be. God, what's he done to me!?

He capitulates anyway. Lying down, shoulder to shoulder with me, Channing bends his knees and tables his hips. He inhales deeply, his dilated eyes tipping towards my body as his nostrils flare. With a low moan of relief from him, the button-fly pops open when he jerks at it—pop pop pop pop—rapid-fire. Like gunshot almost.

But what's underneath them is more devastating by far.

As he slides his jeans down over his hips, the opportunity presents for me to take a gander at him. Down there. What was I supposed to do? He was right there beside me.

My apprehension blooms and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin.

How in the hell was he supposed to fit!?

Impossible, my panic-stricken mind roars.

I’m not given an opportunity for logical thought to resume control of my body. Channing rolls up onto his elbow over me. One large hand rests on my thigh, the soothing warmth penetrating into the deepest part of me. More mind-numbing kisses pepper my lips, my throat, the crimson tips of my breasts. Suddenly, he's sucking on them hard, fanning the tepid heat into a raging inferno in my womanly core.

Cheeks flushed, he meets my eyes, the knuckles of that hand on my thigh sliding between them. His skilled mouth keeps my panic at bay as his warm fingers trace up the inside of my leg. He slicks one finger through the soft sensitive flesh where my leg joins my body with a self-satisfied, “Mmmm.”

Stars explode across my vision. The jolt from the swirling caress nearly lifts me off the floor and a savage ache begins inside me beneath his hand.

Channing inhales deeply through his teeth, his eyes, glittering and half wild, are the merest slits. The delicious male on a warm sandy beach smell of him eddies around us. Then in one smooth motion, he spreads my legs wider and deposits himself between them, poised above me. The faintest sheen of dewy sweat covers his broad shoulders and chiseled chest. I can feel his erection, thick and rigid against my thigh. My hips arch towards him, but he pushes them down with one hand.

“Not yet,” he whispers. “There’s so much more.”

The thought races along my nerves like a lick of flame fed gasoline.

For the record, ‘there’s so much more’ might be the unofficial winner of the understatement of the year award.

I don’t have much of a mind left by the time Channing is done with me, but I do remember there was a lot of stroking, his fingers, my hands, his lips and—God!—his tongue. He sucked and licked and held down my hips until I was shaky and insensible. Everything else forgotten but the searing soaking need for him. 

I throb and pulse under his skilled explorations, my muffled, needful whimpers ringing off the tiled walls. Involuntarily, my fingers comb through and alternately knot in his hair. I revel in the sensation of my skin against his, my heels pressing hard against the towel-covered floor.

With every touch, Channing sets my senses ablaze, devours me with scorching unbearably pleasurable fire, icy-hot and white-blue like the swirling miasmas of alpha glow in his eyes.

It takes him no time at all to find absolutely every pleasure point I possess. Once he does, he drives me to the frayed edge of my sanity with the need for more.

More kissing me breathless.

More stoking the feral heat expanding between us.

More suction. More tender caresses with roughened hands. More low alpha voice whispering seductively at my ear and in my mind.

Unable to move between his weight and my injury, I feel mindlessly out-of-control, hovering below flashpoint at the edge of ecstasy. “Channing—.” The urgent pleas repeat in a litany.

He raises his head, halting his carnal exploration between my thighs, then draws himself to his knees between my legs. “Open your eyes,” he says softly. “Stay with me, Jericho.”

A cool quiet part of my brain offers a panicked warning as he positions himself to take what I’d offered. Then his heat glides through my wet petals and over my happy button, sending another spiraling jolt of pleasure through me. >  

With the fingers of one hand, he grips my hip, then plants two fingers of his opposite one at the base of his enormous staff, tipping it down to angle into me.

I cringe at the pressure and scoot back. Just not before Channing plunges into me a few inches to seat himself, then arches and lunges into me with a forceful thrust.

Not good! Not good! Not good!

Wild-eyed and burning with rending, tearing pain, I suck in an agonized hiss through my teeth and push ineffectually at his shoulders. Yet inside, his momentum keeps him coming, filling me, stretching me, sheathing himself fully inside my stinging channel. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Above me, Channing freezes. His glistening body stills, rigid, as he stares down at me in horrified shock.

Hyperventilating, I struggle to reconcile the warring sensations bombarding my body. Panic runs rampant, spiraling through my head with conflicting commands.

I don’t know how he manages, but Channing carefully leans over me, supporting the weight of his chest on his forearms. With one hand, he brushes the hair away from my face tenderly. “Shhh,” he soothes in a gentle whisper. “God, I’m so sorry. Jericho, why didn’t you tell me?” The white-blue alpha glow has simmered to a dull pulse.

“After everything else you were doing, how was I supposed to know it would feel like that?” I hiss and my eyes slam shut against the hot tears welling there. The last thing I'll ever need is him to see me cry. I swallow hard and try to bite back a sob. “Oh my God, that hurt.”

Channing groans at my passageway's spasms around him. “Of course it did.” He draws a ragged breath. “Jericho, I need you to hold still. I’m trying to make it better.”

“Better?” My eyes fly open and lock on his. “Stop. What. You’re. Doing,” I bite out and my body tenses. “That’s what will make it better.”

The white-blue glow sparks to ferocious life around his suddenly dilated pupils and he shudders hard. Hold still!> “I’m not trying to hurt you!”

I brace my hands against his chest, and despite the shrieking pain from my ribs, try to shove him off of me. It has exactly the opposite effect that I hope it will.

Inside, Channing slips deeper, ripping an agonized cry from my lips and sending my panic into overdrive. Beads of sweat break out all over him, making my hands slip. His whole body clenches in response, unyielding against me or my pain.

Which is precisely the instant it gets so much worse. Right then, his erection swells. 

Not just a little. Enough that I feel like my insides are shredding. 

The edges of my vision vanish into a rapidly darkening gray pinpoint. From somewhere, I hear Channing’s desperate snarl, then there’s a soft click, followed by the whir of a pump. A warm rush streams through my system and the pain fades to a dull ache in my ribs and vanishes entirely where his body’s still connected to mine.

Drawing a ragged breath, Channing pants, “Breathe, Jericho. Deep breaths. Stay with me.”

It’s so much more appealing to let myself sink into the inky blackness of unconsciousness. So much less work. So much less ex-virgin remorse.

Inhale deep, Jericho. Stay with me. Good. Again.>

I don’t know how many times he tells me, cuts into my thoughts with his alpha voice. When I open my eyes and they focus, I realize he’s pinned my head between his palms and is watching me frantically.

“Oh, thank God.” It’s a sigh of relief. Channing’s eyes close and his head hangs beside mine. “Jesus, Jericho. You scared the hell out of me.”

A trickle of sweat follows one of the beautiful cuts in his muscular shoulders, collects into a shivering droplet, then plops, cold, wet and heavy on my breast. I exhale my next breath in a thin ribbon of wordless apology across his neck, hoping to cool him.

“s**t!” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Okay.” Suddenly, this whole thing is exceptionally awkward and I wish we could rewind to that part where everything he was doing felt incredibly good. I sync my breathing to his, wait a few slow deep breaths, then ask quietly, “What just happened?”

Channing lifts his head and stares into the empty shower above our heads, collecting his thoughts. He releases a long sigh through pursed lips, then looks down at me miserably. “Well. I just brutalized your beautiful virgin body by rutting into you with the force of an avalanche. I then proceeded to handle it poorly and you panicked. Your struggles triggered the mate tie and you almost passed out from it. That made me panic, so I morphine buttoned you and kept talking to get you to come back to me. Now, I'm feeling like the biggest heel on the planet and mentally doing word scrambles so my body releases you.”

For a long minute, I stare at Channing and he stares back at me.

If anyone, ever, in any life I’ve lived, had told me this is what my first time with a guy I’ve been crushing on since I was sixteen would be like, I’d have laughed.

Seriously.

In fact, the whole thing suddenly seems so absurd, that’s exactly what I do. First, it’s a little huff and the corners of my mouth pull upwards.

After a few long seconds, Channing’s face splits into his lazy handsome grin. He flushes a fine rosy color I don’t recall every having seen, and huffs a laugh himself. Then his eyes close and he hangs his head in shame. “Wow. I’m really sorry. I c*cked this up in every way possible.”

In the next instant, the both of us are laughing.

Hysterically.

To the point where we’re both breathless.

Panic evaporates. My pain vanishes. Channing and I relax into each other, as whatever powerful force drawing us together reinstates itself in control.

“Channing,” I whisper when the room settles into silence again, “what’s a mate tie?”

“This.” He arches his back incrementally and his swollen member inside me slides out a fraction, stops abruptly where it's too thick to slip out the way it went in, then glides back in.

In a remarkable happenstance, it does so directly over a happy button I didn’t know existed. I wonder how Channing missed it.

My eyes slam shut and a host of fireworks explode across my eyelids. A breathy moan pours out of me. My hands clamp on his sides. My hips arch towards him in little stutters.

“Jericho?” he says softly, brushing the hair away from my face.

I can see the golden glow from my eyes fall into the angular planes of his handsome face as I open them. Channing gets very still, his eyes locked to mine as the white-blue whorls appear again.

“You said you could make it better,” I breathe.

He nods his head almost imperceptibly. The white-blue alpha glow grows stronger.

“What are you waiting for?”

He doesn't wait to be told twice. Shifting his weight to one side, he reaches down and hitches my thigh over his hip. “Here,” he whispers, dropping his head to nuzzle my neck, then suck lightly.

A shudder of pleasure washes over me and gooseflesh pops up all over my exposed flesh. He's like a roller coaster— ups and downs, twists and turns, loop-de-loops— and all of it thrilling.

“Oh,” Channing groans softly. “So—good,” he pants. “You make me come undone, Jericho.” Releasing my thigh, his hand slips between us.

His thumb grazes the hot button hidden inside my slick folds. A spiking electric jolt of raw pleasure zaps my system, and my whole body clenches with it. As my nails dig into his sides, a fresh gush of warm fluid seeps out around him and he sinks deeper.

This time, we both groan.

Wetting his thumb with his tongue, he slips it between us again. The sweet pressure of him stretching and filling me as he fingers my sensitive little bud sends me careening wildly towards a new peak of pleasure. Desire sparks like a downed powerline, shorting my brain.

There! Yes, there!>

My body answers Channing’s short strokes within the confines of the mate tie with a rhythmic pulsing of its own. His eyelashes flutter over the alpha glow in his deep blue eyes. He groans again, a tormented sound. A man at the limits of his self-control.

Shifting his weight to square his hips with mine, he hooks his fingers around the back of my knee and pulls upward, spreading my hips more. His eyes are on mine, half-crazed and eager, the white-blue whorls gleaming with intensity.

“I want to get you off. So bad,” he says huskily. Withdrawing to the limit the mate tie will allow, he sinks into me in one smooth drive, easing the last inch or so of himself inside with a satisfied grunt in answer to my hissed, ‘Yes!’

Encouraged, he sets up a torturous smooth rhythm, focusing on my eyes intently. Stay with me. Be mine.> His breathing begins to sound as ragged as my own.

The tension between us increases, simmers for too long, finally boils then flashes into an exploding pleasure that shakes us both to the core. My skin bursts in to rippling goosebumps. A hot flush blooms across Channing’s chest and neck as his head tips back with ardor. His low groan accompanies his intense shudder and meets my throaty sigh. Then a gush of warmth fills me.

More twitching shivers of delight wash over me as I sink into a satiated stupor. Channing’s head hangs, his warm breath caressing across my shoulder.

“Jericho?” he whispers.

“Two thumbs way up.”

He chuckles. “I second that.”

“All in favor. Aye.”

“Aye,” he says with me, then kisses along my jaw. “Are you hurting?”

“Nope.” I open my eyes and turn towards him. “I am curious though.”

His brows flick up with an interested, “Ummm. About?”

“That mating tie. Is it going to happen every time?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”

“But it happened with me. What does that mean?”

“Well, I hope it means you’ll be a little easier on my fragile ego—.”

“Not a chance.”

“At the very least, I hope it means you're merciful and give me another opportunity to take you to dinner.” Channing runs little kisses from my shoulder all the way up my neck to my ear, sighing with contentment when it draws a shiver out of me. “And that you’ll let me try this again, someplace I can make you comfortable. Like your bed.”

“Not in my bed,” I reply firmly. “Speaking of beds though. Is this where you live? This—compound thing that we’re in?”

“Avernus,” he supplies. “And yes.”

“If I take my IV pole and promise not to poke around, will you give me the tour?”