He was hot everywhere.
Movements faltering.
Shaking.
He wanted to punish them both, but he felt as if he was the only one losing his mind. Losing himself.
"I want you to take me,"
he snarled at James, pushing back until the head of his shaft was firmly against his hole,
"Then I want you gone."
He raked his fingers over James's belly, and a sound gurgled in the other man's throat as his belly contracted,
"Get inside me so I can get you out of my system."
He didn't know who he was anymore. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to be. How did he get it to go away? How did he escape this?
He picked up the lube he'd brought with him. He had planned this, after all. He lubed himself, fingers pushing into his hole, twisting, stretching himself. Since he'd left New York over a week ago, he hadn't slept with anyone. He'd been waiting for this.
Still, James simply regarded him with eyes gone dark with lust. His pupils were dilated, nostrils flared, even his cheeks were touched with colour.
He uttered those sounds in the back of his throat, hoarse grunts that made Tom's blood boil. When he was all slick, he put a condom on James's shaft, stroking him before bringing him back to his entrance.
Tom lifted up.
Then he sank down.
James's eyes opened wide, and he went crazy, yanking at the handcuffs.
Damn. He felt huge. Tom groaned, still jerking himself off. He bowed his head and stroked himself furiously as he sank all the way down.
When James bottomed out, they both flinched.
Tom lifted up again. Then he dropped down.
He couldn't breathe. James's hips were moving, thrusting up, circling. Hitting his spot that quick.
He had no speech then, just plaintive groans, his head falling backward as he slammed up before lifting up and doing it again.
Over and over. James wasn't even pretending anymore. He claimed Tom, pounding up into him with eyes narrowed to slits. He felt amazing. Extremely hot. So thick, hitting Tom where he needed him. Until he was grunting loud and hungry, pulling on his dick, shuddering.
Coming. He spilled in his fist, ass contracting.
Warmth teased his sensitive hole, and he pitched forward, clawing at James's chest, fingers scratching at that name as he shivered. Flashing hot.
Then cold.
Back to hot.
He reached forward and yanked off the tape over James's mouth. Then he smeared his cum-streaked fingers over James's lips and chin. When the other man's lips parted, Tom rammed his fingers into his mouth.
All the way in, hooking it at the back of his throat.
So, James could taste him.
Also, to shut him up before he even began denying them.
God. Damn. It. He wasn't bloody done,
"Now you can say you didn't have a choice."
He made himself lift off James. That loss felt too horrible and he stifled a moan,
"You can stay loyal to your wolf,"
he whispered,
"While you continue to blame me for what you're wanting… what you're needing."
Forehead pressed to James's, Tom told him,
"Put it all on me…"
His voice cracked,
"I'll take the blame for the both of us."
It was the least he could do. The only thing he could do.
Because there was no way he could stop wanting James.
And there was no way he could erase what he'd done. Then and now.
"Tom…"
His voice, so rough slid over Tom's newly exposed nerves and made him shudder.
He turned away, headed to the bathroom.
"Please, stop."
But he couldn't. Tom escaped into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. Things were supposed to go differently. He'd get claimed and purged. James would be out of his system, and he could go back to the unfeeling bastard he'd always been. Except he hadn't even stopped spasming from the orgasm, and he already wanted more. He hadn't even come close to being satiated.
He wanted more…So much more…
He bowed his head under the shower spray. He was messed up, well and truly messed up. They had to put an end to it. He couldn't go on like this, not with someone like James Evans.
He washed his body on autopilot, with shaking hands and a throat that burned every time he swallowed. And when he got out the shower and walked back into the bedroom, the headboard was splintered into three pieces, and the bed was empty.
Damn…
He spun in a circle, searching for any sign of a threat. But he already knew, James was gone. How in the hell did he escape? He left the handcuffs behind, but the rope was nowhere to be seen. A dent in the mattress, and the imprint of his head on the pillow was the only proof that James had been there. The room felt still and cold, almost as if Tom had imagined the heat James emitted.
He climbed onto the bed and settled into the spot James had recently occupied. Still warm. He buried his face in pillows that smelled of James and them.
Sex.
It was sex. And it was done. He hated him for it, but James did what Tom couldn't.
He walked away.
Leaving Tom scrambling to find the missing pieces of who he used to be.