[Siren Classic ManLove: Alternative Paranormal Romance, MM, shape-shifter, HEA]
Lightning strikes in the most unexpected places, bringing two hearts and souls together.
Who was this prick? The moment the cute human with the brown hair and big, expressive, chocolate brown eyes behind thick black glasses exited the lift, certainty filled Striker. This human, with the most alluring scent that drew his dragon close to the surface, this was Ron. Ron was the one. His mate. For some reason, this stupid mutt got in his way.
“You never mentioned,” the werewolf was telling Ron, “that you have a husband.”
Striker cracked his knuckles and strode to this wolf, who was crowding his mate. Why was Ron with this werewolf? A boyfriend? No, Ron didn’t smell like wet fur, the wolf’s scent wasn’t on him. Still, Striker saw red. He didn’t like it when outsiders entered his territory without his permission, and okay, he was the stranger in this town, but Ron?
Ron had always been his.
“Wait, this is misunderstanding,” Ron said quickly, planting himself between them both. Ron placed a hand on his chest. The human swallowed and looked at him. Such a small hand, Striker thought, compared to his huge ones. Unable to help himself, he took Ron’s fingers and planted a kiss on them. That made the werewolf snarl.
Ron didn’t bat his touch away, though, and he did smell the human’s need when they locked gazes. Ron must have felt it, too, the fire coursing through his veins, through his entire body.
“This is a little hard to explain,” Ron said.
“I’m Will, the Alpha of the Burrell wolf pack, and we’re the dominant animal group around these parts,” Will said, pupils amber.
“Those words mean squat to me, wolf. Back away from my mate now, or I’ll turn you into toast.”
Will snarled, baring his fangs.
Oh. Shit. Smoke mentioned he was kind of friends with this Will, and damn it, Smoke would get mad if Striker set fire to this mutt by accident. Still, being in the same tiny corridor as another shifter put his dragon on edge.
“Funny,” Will said. “I don’t see your mate mark on Ron or a ring on his finger.”
Did this wolf seriously think he still stood a chance with his Ron? Striker could easily turn him into wolf crisps and apologize to Smoke later for barbecuing his friend. Glancing at Ron’s fuming face, he decided against it, but Will scraped at his nerves. A mate mark, huh? Well, Striker couldn’t just bite Ron here, could he?
No, while he was dead certain Ron was his forever mate, there was a proper way to do things like this. Even Smoke confided in him that it took a lot of patience not to claim Toby right away. Human mates wanted romance, although Striker couldn’t figure out why they couldn’t do that after he bit Ron. No, he told the prickly golden dragon inside him.
There was only one solution then. He met the puny wolf’s gaze and huffed. “We’re getting to that. Today. And you’re not invited, so go away before I seriously lose my temper.”
* * * *
Striker’s answer stunned him a couple of seconds. The dragon shifter sounded completely serious, too.
“Hold on. What?” Okay, one problem at a time. Ron turned to Will. “Thank you for walking me home but—”
“He’s too nice to say it, but he wants you gone,” Striker said with a smirk. “Ron chose me, buster. So bye-bye.”
Who did this dragon shifter think he was? Oh, they definitely were about to have some serious words.
Will frowned. “Ron, you have my number. Don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you need any help.” Will didn’t take the elevator this time around and opted to take the stairs instead.
“Never thought that mutt would leave,” Striker muttered.
Now that they were alone, he walked up to Striker, gave the big shifter a push, and used his key to open the door.
“We’ll have this discussion inside, my neighbors will probably gossip about me after this,” he muttered.
“What got you so mad?” Striker asked once they were inside. “You can’t believe how happy I am to finally see you face-to-face.”
Striker was? That was kind of sweet, and real life Striker seemed exactly like the same guy in the game—hold on a second. Ron had every right to be mad.
He pushed one finger into Striker’s massive chest, swallowing when Striker grasped his fingers in his, then tugged him close. Ron dropped his bag of groceries and squeaked as their chests, stomachs, and groins touched. Oh. God. He didn’t know dragon shifters burned this hot. His dick painfully strained against his jeans. Once more, Ron was stunned by the instantaneous spark between them.
“You did,” he said, recovering from his initial shock. “You can’t just come here and assume I’m going to marry you or something.”
Striker ran his callused fingers up his arm, planting one muscled arm around his waist. Ron could have pushed him away, could have stepped aside, but he didn’t do any of those things. He didn’t want to. It had been ages, far too long since anyone touched him intimately like this, and no one ever looked at him the way Striker did—with fierce intensity, like he wanted to swallow him all up. It was as if Striker didn’t see anything else but him, Ron, who felt invisible his entire life.
“Can’t you feel it, Ron? This heat between you and me? Even my dragon knows the truth.”
He must have taken too long, because Striker walked up to him and fisted his shirt. One tug and the fabric ripped. Ron dispensed with his pants and boxers, finally standing naked in front of Striker, whose gaze burned bright gold, like little orbs of sun set in his face. Striker peeled off his shirt, making Ron lick his lips.
Before Striker could make the next move, Ron knelt in front of his dragon. A rumble of what sounded like approval emerged from Striker’s lips as Ron fumbled for the button of Striker’s jeans, then the zipper. Ron let out a breath as he pulled out Striker’s prick, and boy, was his golden dragon hung.
Striker hooked his fingers into his hair, brought his face close so Ron’s lips touched his dick. Ron went to work. He stuck out his tongue, licked at the pre-cum gathered on Striker’s cockhead, tasting Striker’s need on his tongue. He closed one hand around the base of Striker’s cock as he opened his mouth and began to take Striker’s girth down his throat.
He gagged on the first try, hollowed out his cheeks, and succeeded on the second. He didn’t have that much experience when it came to giving blow jobs, but Ron decided to make it up to Striker with enthusiasm. He sucked, licked, and ran his tongue over every ridge and bump of Striker’s gloriously long and thick dick.
Striker groaned above him. “Hold still,” Striker commanded.
He held his mouth open as Striker began thrusting his hips, fucking his mouth. It didn’t take long for Striker to let out a growl and empty his load. Ron took every drop, swallowing Striker’s jizz, his own dick rock-hard by the time Striker finished. Striker pulled his softening prick out and held a hand to him, which he took. Striker gave him a little push toward the bed.
Ron squeaked, ended up on his back on the edge of the bed. He scooted further up as Striker finally took off his pants and boxers and crawled on top of him. They were all over each other. Lightning started from his thickening dick and went to every part of his body. Striker left little bites and kisses down the length of his body, which only served to turn the tiny flame in him into an inferno.
He widened his eyes, seeing Striker beginning to get hard again. He read online that shifter lovers weren’t like human ones, that they recovered quickly, and he guessed that was true.
“God,” he murmured when Striker finally reached his groin and licked him from root to tip slowly, like Striker was enjoying a lollipop.
“So hard for me already, hmm. Tell me, baby. How badly do you want to come?” Striker asked, pulling his mouth away to start stroking his prick with his deft fingers.
“You’ve got to wait, because I’ll get mad if you come without my permission. You can only come while I’m buried deep inside you, claiming that tight little ass as mine.”
He groaned, incredibly aroused by the imagery. Ron nearly erupted then, but he held back, wanting to see how the game played out. If he looked at himself in the mirror the next morning, would he see the marks of Striker’s passion the night before? He shifted, so turned on that if Striker touched his prick again, he’ll definitely go off.
Ron did the next best thing and repeated his question from earlier. He met Striker’s predatory gaze and asked, “So, will you fuck me now?”
* * * *
His mate, Striker mused, never failed to surprise him at every turn. He growled in approval. Right now, Striker’s dragon was in complete agreement with his human half.
“I want you on all fours,” he ordered, wanting to go deep as possible.
He helped Ron get into position. Striker grabbed pillows and placed them under Ron’s belly and raised Ron’s hips, so Ron’s ass was directly angled to his dick.
“Perfect. Wait here while I get the lube,” he said, rushing to the bathroom. With the bottle retrieved, he returned to Ron, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Good boy.”
He ran his hands possessively down Ron’s puckered entrance, balls, and long dick, the tip already leaking pre-cum. His mate was barely holding his climax in at his command. Striker smiled and uncapped the lube. He drizzled plenty down Ron’s hole, before working one finger in. Ron moaned in front of him, then playfully wiggled his ass. As he added a second digit, his own dick felt heavy between his legs, already at full mast. Striker couldn’t wait to give his mate the ride of his life.
Patience, Striker told himself, widening Ron for his access. Deciding Ron was ready, he replaced digits with his prick and slid in, slowly and carefully. Fuck, Ron’s inner muscles clamped hard around his dick, but once he pushed past the thick ring of stubborn muscles, he managed to drive his way all the way to the hilt. His balls brushed against the curve of Ron’s ass.
“Hurt?” Striker asked.
“No, but you’re huge. So please, move?”
Striker chuckled. So polite. Didn’t Ron know that he had all the power here? Whatever Ron wanted, he’d give, but first, Striker needed to rock Ron’s world and show his mate that he would be the only man allowed the privilege of claiming his ass, body, heart, and soul.
“I’ll make you feel good in a second.”