Ruff Trouble

Chapter 3-3

Bobby increased the pressure against Sam’s hands. He glanced at Chantelle, a silent acknowledgement. Easy to realise what went through Sam’s head. Sam cared for them both, but the man had known him first. Sam’s feelings stemmed from their relationship. Bobby was the one who needed to fix this. He lowered his body by degrees.

Several seconds passed before Sam focused, before he pushed back. Bobby ignored him. In physical strength, no way could a human best a shape-shifter; it had nothing to do with Sam being weak.

Bobby leaned in, never breaking his gaze even when Sam’s eyes darted about in puzzlement, question, and, at last, in alarm. Those strong forearms shook as Sam tried to bench-press him to no avail. Bobby continued to lean in until a mere inch existed between them. Until their warm breath had no choice but to mingle. “I’m not f*****g with your head. I don’t do that.”

He waited, while Sam’s eyes widened. Chantelle would have said something loving, something reassuring, but Bobby and Sam were men. Maybe some men spoke lovey to each other, but he and Sam never had. Sam knew him, and Bobby understood how to get his point across. Sam had no choice but to accept he spoke the truth, not when Bobby backed up his words with his lips.

The rasp of stubble gave the right kind of burn to the kiss, although, to begin with, came across as more of a caress. Sam’s hands stopped trying to push. His fingers spread out in two fans over Bobby’s pecs. Bobby’s tongue demanded entry to Sam’s mouth, and whether Sam gasped in surprise or pleasure, those lips parted enough for Bobby to force his way in.

A cry too plaintive to call a groan shot from Sam’s mouth to his. The way the other man moved under him would have told Bobby what Sam felt even if he hadn’t been able to sense it. Sam’s barriers cracked, and for one moment, Bobby peered through.

Sam’s loyalty and love assaulted him with more violence than teeth or claws. Too long bottled. Too long denied. Too long believing never to have this. All this Bobby got from Sam in a flash, and beneath, the self-doubt, the belief that, even if Bobby knew his feelings, he’d never reciprocate because Sam never saw himself as good enough. What would the accident have done to someone already so demoralised?

Bobby wanted to wrap Sam in his arms, take away every smidgen of pain, but for now he poured his emotion out in a kiss. He pressed their bodies together, erections separated by their undergarments and a sheet. He encircled Sam’s neck with his fingers, and forced his way into Sam’s mouth, tongue lapping, lips devouring, teeth clashing.

It hurt. The kiss bruised in its force. Teeth threatened to cut lips, and yet Bobby didn’t pull away until sure one or both would pass out, starved of air.

One of Sam’s legs had kicked free of the sheet and wrapped around him. If it weren’t for the covers, most likely Sam would have both his legs wrapped around Bobby’s waist by now. If Sam’s hands weren’t caught between them, Bobby pictured the man grasping and clawing at him.

“Fuck.” Wonderment warmed Sam’s voice.

“Not right now. Tonight we love my sweet girl here.” Bobby teased, knowing that wasn’t what Sam had meant. He searched Sam’s eyes as he spoke. While a hint of disappointment tainted the air, reticence took a backseat. A different spark of arousal flared inside Sam, but to establish the man understood, Bobby stroked his chin, spoke against his lips.

“You’ll get to have me inside you soon, I promise you. Tonight, I want you to help me love this woman here, make her ours. I want to feel you riding her body against mine. Are you okay with that?”

Those eyes searched his. “I’m sure I’m still dreaming, but it’s one hell of a dream.”

Bobby grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”