Chapter 68: The Meaning of Pack

Kiran had felt it before he saw it.

The link had gone strange, not sex, not a dream. Roan and Cass, both of them, pulled tight around something small and shaking. He came down the hall on quiet feet and stopped where the dark hid him. Remi was on his back across their laps. Years of it coming out of a fennec who never let anyone see him cry. Roan’s paw on his ear. Cass’s paw on his chest. Kiran put a hand over his own mouth so he would not ruin it.

He lasted until Roan said Lir too.

Then he ran.

Zariel’s door hit the wall. Kiran cleared the dark and landed on the big white wolf in one jump, knees in the mattress, paws on his chest.

“Big Z. Fuck me. Right now. We got Remi. Remi is joining the pack. And Lir, probably.”

Zariel came up out of sleep like a man hauled out of a river. One eye open. Ears crooked. His arm found Kiran on instinct and held him there so he would not bounce off the bed.

“What?”

“Remi.” Kiran was grinning so hard it hurt. “He cried. Roan pulled him over the couch. He’s in. I watched it. Don’t tell him I watched it.”

Zariel blinked. The news got through the sleep. His mouth moved, small, the real smile, not the one he used on a range.

“Good,” he said. “Good for him. Good for you.”

Kiran went quieter. He settled on Zariel’s stomach, tail flicking against a white thigh.

“Hey. Maybe you will get to feel that little fennec mouth someday. After all.”

“Do not start planning his nights.” Zariel’s voice was rough with sleep, but his paw was already on Kiran’s hip. “He just got in the door.”

“I know.” Kiran kissed the fur under his jaw. “I’m happy. I’m stupid happy. Fuck me about it.”

Zariel hauled him under the covers with one arm. The blankets came over them and the room went small. Heat. White fur. Kiran’s shirt dragged off and tossed. They kissed slow, Zariel’s muzzle careful, Kiran biting once and then not, just mouthing at him. Paws in fur. Zariel’s hand down his back, over the base of his tail, not pulling yet.

“What do you want,” Zariel asked. “To celebrate.”

“You on top of me.” Kiran spread under him without being told. “Buried deep. Take your time. Make me feel it.”

Zariel shifted over him. The covers stayed up. Kiran could not see much, only the shape of the white wolf and the glow of his own excitement. A paw worked between his thighs, two fingers, slick, opening him while Zariel kissed his throat. Kiran breathed out and lifted his hips. The fingers curled and found the spot that made his cock jump against his belly. Zariel rubbed there, slow, until Kiran was leaking and trying to fuck himself back on the fingers.

“Enough teasing,” Kiran said. It came out thin.

“You said take my time.”

He did. A third finger, careful, the stretch filthy and good. Kiran’s tail thumped the mattress. Zariel kissed him through it, tongue lazy, paw working until the fox was open and wet and done being patient.

Then the fingers left. Zariel slicked himself under the covers. Kiran could not see it. He felt it. The heavy weight of that cock against his thigh, hot, thicker than his hand wanted to admit, the shaft already rigid, a line of slick dragged across his fur. The heat coming off it was ridiculous. He reached down and got his paw around the base. No give. Smooth, slick, a bar of wolf under the blankets.

“Big,” Kiran said, not bratty. Just true.

“You asked.”