Weld (Into the Fire Book 7) by Mia West

Author:Mia West [West, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: romance
Published: 2016-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Another fortnight passed, and Marc grew bored…and curious.

The swelling had gone down, as had the angry redness in his skin. It looked nearly normal now, back to the dark tone he was accustomed to seeing. Cradling his sac in his fingers, he rolled his testicle. It rose under his skin, slipping from one side of his scrotum to the other like a seal playing under a wave. Most of the soreness had gone. Tentatively, he touched his cock.

He had done so already, of course, to piss, and a few times, late at night, he’d found himself rubbing light fingertips over it unconsciously. But he hadn’t attempted this yet.

Applying more pressure, he gave himself a slow, deliberate stroke. His cock remained spongy, exactly as he might find it at any given point in a day.

He thought of Wolf, of the last time they had visited the baths together, some time ago. They had scrubbed each other clean before entering the pools, and Marc had filled his hands with the broad musculature of Wolf’s back, from his shoulders to the curves of his buttocks. Marc stroked as he thought of the man’s heat under his hands. His pulls stretched the flesh of his cock, but it didn’t respond.

Panic tickled his belly with chilly claws.

Desperate, he took his mind back, before Matthias left, before he’d become a man, before he’d grown, before they’d even found him. In his mind’s eyes, Marc searched for his first few days with Wolf after he’d returned from the army.

The man had been so different from the boy he’d known two decades before. Gone was the big, puppyish lad and in his place a man who had come into his own. Not yet a figure in Marc’s daily life, the smith had seemed massive and immovable, his resting stern expression a barrier for Marc to breach. The first time he’d seen the man naked…

It had torn his breath from his lungs. The smith had carried him to a stream for bathing, and after being taunted by Marc, had stripped himself as well. He had filled the stream bed and Marc’s sight—his world—with his powerful body, outsized from head to heel. The cold water had washed over him, and Wolf, always so warm, hadn’t seemed to feel it. But it had rendered him a slick and glistening river god, all muscle and hair and fat, promising cock.

Marc’s shaft twitched.

Gods, yes, Wolf in the stream. How many times had Marc recalled that image to his mind? Or remembered how he’d wanted to turn around and bury his face in Wolf’s crotch, to stuff his mouth with the smith’s prick, feel his balls floating against his chin?

Blood surged into him. So he closed his eyes and rewrote history.

Turned himself around in that stream and spread Wolf’s thighs with his hands. He ignored the surprised grunt of an unsuspecting blacksmith and swallowed him whole, pushed down until he choked. In this revision, two wet hands landed over his ears, holding him in place until suffocation threatened.

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