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The realization made Luca’s balls ache—for something he loved but rarely got to do. They were both grinning now. “Yeah, same.”
Artair extended his tongue once more, running the wide warmth slowly across the outline of Luca’s cock, all the way from balls to tip. “Looks like I’ll have to breed you then?”
Luca ran his hand through Artair’s hair, warm and still slightly damp from the storm. “You’d fucking better!”
SEVEN
Cubby Holes
Luca reached for his own button-fly, the strain of his girth and the temptation of even more pleasure now unbearable. He had to free himself from the denim prison. He had to release his aching bulge and give the beautiful bear the honey that he was so thirsty to lap up.
But before he could even unsnap a single restraint, Artair stopped him, guiding both of Luca’s wrists into the small of his back, holding them firmly in place.
“Not yet,” Artair growled, so pleased with his dominance that Luca yearned to break free and make Artair gag on his stiffness.
Instead, he endured the delicate moments of Artair licking his shaft, feeling the pale warmth of his tongue, infuriatingly dulled by the fabric. Involuntarily, Luca thrust forward against his lips. Wanting more. Craving that direct contact.
Artair paused by Luca’s hipbone, where the tip of his cock was pressed hard against the brass studs of his jeans. Slowly, he took a long inhale of Luca—sticky and sweet and stinking of sex.
Luca twitched and let out involuntary moans at that. At the way every movement of the man’s mouth rolled his sheathed foreskin around in his slick underwear. It was alluring and infuriating all at once. “You, fuck, you weren’t kidding about wanting to take your time.”
Artair proved how much he wasn’t kidding by doing this motion again and again, over and over. Licking slow up Luca’s shaft. Pausing at his cock head. Relishing as each swipe caused Luca’s frustration to build.
Luca endured the torment as long as he could, before finally fighting back against the restraint around his wrists. But even in his standing position, Luca was no match for Artair’s wild-strengthened grip. The bear refused him the release and slowed his attention on Luca’s cock as punishment for trying.
“No!” Luca whined, grinding his hips forward to recapture the wetness. The teasing had made him too hard to handle the absence. The ache in his cock was unbearable now. “Please don’t stop!”
“Then say the safe word.”
Luca contemplated that. How one word could make all the torment stop. And he had no interest in that, no matter how frustrating this felt.
Because he’d never been so fucking hard in his life.
Artair beamed at his desperation. At the way he had Luca completely under control. He moved his mouth to the well-stitched corner of Luca’s fly, gripping it between his teeth. “Promise you’ll be good?” he said, slightly muffled.
Luca nodded vigorously. In that moment he would have done or said anything for Artair to continue his attention.
Artair grinned through a mouthful of indigo weave.
And then he tugged it forward.
The first button burst open with a loud pop. Luca felt the restrained blood surge into his cock. “Fuck.”
The second soon followed, taut until the last moment.
The third came free easier. But Artair wasn’t done with the steaming, man-scented cave that he’d opened. Like a dog playing tug-of war, Artair managed to drag the whole top of the jeans down, bunching around Luca’s thick upper thighs.
His bright orange briefs were drenched with slick—half his own copious precum, half the seeped-through spit from Artair’s attention.
The sudden release of pressure brought its own torment. Luca’s veins throbbed now, so bulging he could see them snaking through the cotton. There was only a tiny strip of fabric separating him from bliss.
With his free hand, Artair took Luca’s full balls, rolling them gently in the cotton. “Should I do the same thing with just the briefs on? You can go another twenty minutes, right?”
Luca said nothing. The deep rise in heat from his massaged balls was spiking his sexual frustration to the point of madness.
He hadn’t expected this—that the external cuddle cub secretly housed a wolf in heat. One that loved tormenting his conquests. Not in dominance. Not in humiliation. But in the thrill of making Luca pent up and blue-balled and wanting to scream for Artair’s talents.
And inside, Luca was screaming.
