As Nyell gazed down on Allen, time seemed to stand still for a moment, giving off the feeling of the calm before the storm. Putting aside the turmoil in his guts, he felt clear-minded, maybe even more than ever.
'Right, fine, I lost,' Nyell silently admitted, thinking that he, indeed, shouldn't keep running away in the name of not believing in fate. He could be stubborn and refuse what life had brought him, or he could face his feelings properly and accept them for what they were. Even if Allen was fated to become his mate, it didn't mean he had no choice in the matter and had to become coy and subservient in the relationship. If they were meant to be, then surely, Allen should be able to handle his wild temper and foul mouth. Probably?
In return, he, himself, had concessions to make. It couldn't always go one way: a relationship couldn't be built on the compromises of one side, and never on the other. And thus, Nyell decided to take the first step in advancing their relationship. Now that he had made up his mind, he wouldn't stay passive. It wasn't in his character to wait and let things happen. No, he loved to take the reins and get the ball rolling.
"What is taking you so long?" A smirk curled up the corner of his lips as Nyell crossed his arms over Allen's shoulders, letting his hands hang loose behind his back. He teased, "Do you need help undressing me?"
"If I say yes," Allen smiled, his voice as taunting as Nyell's, "will you strip for me?"
"Sure."
Nyell had no claim whatsoever about walking around butt-naked. He didn't care when they bathed in the river back at the canyon, and he certainly wouldn't now either. Or so he'd have loved to think. For some reason, the idea of stripping in front of Allen in such near proximity stirred up a timid side of himself he didn't even know he had. Or perhaps, it wasn't so much shyness as it was nervousness. Strange.
But Allen didn't let Nyell ponder over the odd feeling for long, and his hands came back to the front to unfasten the belt. His patience had run dry, and he didn't want to wait a second longer. Why should he? He had the get-go, and although restraining himself was getting harder by the second, he didn't rush things. No matter what, he didn't want to be rough. On the contrary, he wanted to treasure Nyell, and each and every one of his movements betrayed this inner thought.
His nervousness, entangled with a hint of thoughtfulness, was something Nyell couldn't help but notice, for he could feel Allen's fingers tremble ever so slightly. His hands were also clumsy, taking longer than they should have to undo the belt. If he could have his way, Nyell had a hunch Allen would have outright torn the goddamn belt. Perhaps his ears played tricks on him, but Nyell could have sworn he heard a faint grunt of frustration escape Allen's mouth.
That wasn't like him. Not like Nyell could talk, but… It was strange to get a glimpse of Allen's human side. He always behaved with so much composure and shrewdness that it was hard to believe that he, too, could get anxious for something as banal as scenting his mate.
"You sure you don't need help?" Nyell couldn't resist provoking the shaman, not realizing he was finally done with unfastening the belt. A second later, it fell off his waist.
With a grin, Allen responded by opening the robe wide instead of speaking aloud, revealing the obscene outfit underneath. He didn't need help now, did he? But Nyell was childish by nature and decided not to move an inch as long as Allen didn't ask for it. Therefore, his arms remained where they were, and the robe couldn't slide down to the floor, the sleeves serving as an anchor as they hung on Nyell's elbows. It didn't seem to bother Allen, however. Why would it? The top underneath the robe barely covered anything, the strips of cloth falling over Nyell's rib cage, and not his stomach. It allowed easy access, and Allen didn't miss a beat. The moment the toned skin was unveiled, he pulled his tongue out to plaster it against his stomach. He dragged it upward, the tip of his tongue following along the defined muscles. It sent shivers down Nyell's spine.
'It feels warm. And a bit sticky,' the thought was fleeting as Nyell closed his eyes, shutting down one of his senses to feel the sensation of Allen's tongue on his skin more accurately. It was more arousing than he had thought it would be, and his lower half soon started to throb.
Scenting could be done in many ways, but one of the most popular was through hugging, kissing, and licking. The skin-to-skin contact and, mainly, the saliva acted as a vector to allow a werewolf's smell to impregnate their partner. Of course, sexual intercourse had the same effect, although it made it pretty obvious to every other werewolf what had happened, and both partners often carried each other's smell, unlike in one-sided scenting. Being in a werewolf society pretty much meant you had no privacy on that matter, for everyone knew who had partnered with whom. It was another way to reaffirm one's belonging and keep other suitors at bay.
"W-wait, Allen!" Nyell suddenly cried out when he felt his fated mate's hands slide through the openings in the pants. The airy design at the thigh level made it easy for wandering hands to grab his private parts, and both of Allen's hands had decided to clamp his buttocks, the fingers sliding between the two cheeks. He could feel his index fingers lingering near his entrance, brushing against the rim. It couldn't be any clearer what they intended to do. Still, for now, they didn't go further, allowing Nyell to take a breather and glare at Allen, who looked up while nibbling on the skin near his navel. His striking eyes seemed to be telling him to push him aside if he didn't want to. Otherwise, he'd most likely not stop.
Nyell instinctively gripped his own wrist with one hand, tightening his hold just enough so that the pain kept him from doing something he might regret later on. He had almost reflexively kneed the shaman, and considering the position they were in, it wouldn't have been surprising if he had broken his jaw in the process. He gritted his teeth, clenched and unclenched his fists, but ultimately sighed with a grunt:
"If it's unpleasant, you're sleeping on the floor tonight."
The shallow threat drew a chuckle out of Allen, his smile turning sheepish. He once again plastered his tongue against his stomach as he tilted his head toward the night desk beside the bed. Nyell didn't seem to understand, so Allen reluctantly tucked his tongue back into his mouth and gave him clear directives.
"Can you take the glass bottle of lube inside the drawer?"
"Bottle of lube?"
There was a second of silence before Allen cocked an eyebrow and tentatively asked, "Yes, a bottle of lube… How do male partners have sex in your tribe?"
"Hm? Don't they just stick it in? I mean, it's not like man-man relationships are well seen in the jungle. Tolerated, but not wholly accepted, so people don't talk about it… It shouldn't be too different than with girls, though. What? Am I wrong?"
"No, not exactly per se." Allen's mouth twitched despite his words. "But if you just stick things in, be it fingers or something else, it will be unpleasant without lube. Men don't exactly get wet down there."
A frown furrowed Nyell's brow. He didn't seem convinced. Still, he did as told and stretched an arm to reach the wooden desk, pulling the drawer open. His eyes were immediately drawn to one peculiar glass bottle, and he bent over to snatch it before handing it to Allen. His suspicion hadn't been put to rest, and he scrutinized Allen as he flipped the lid open to cover his fingers with a good amount of the clear liquid.
"It might feel cold."
And it indeed did. Nyell sucked in a deep breath as the now slimy fingers made their way back under the pants, straight to his butttocks. His mind was focused on them until Allen sneakily sucked on one of his nipples, which earned him a cry of surprise. Nyell's attention turned back to the front, unsure whether he liked that tingling sensation or not. His chest felt odd, but he couldn't think about it for long as the coated fingers started to circle his entrance once more, smearing the cold liquid around the rim. The teasing was driving him crazy, and just as he was about to tell him to get it over with, Allen pushed a finger inside.
"Oh, shit," Nyell swore, his grip around Allen's shoulders tightening. Thanks to the lube, the finger managed to slip inside without much resistance, but a burning sensation, which was instantly cooled by the lube, still assaulted his rear. "You're definitely sleeping on the floor tonight."
As an answer, Allen chukled against his nipple, giving him goosebumps. The warm breath against his damp, sensitive skin seemed to prick him lightly, giving birth to an odd sensation that bordered on pleasure and discomfort. Nyell couldn't help but shift on his legs slightly. Although he told himself that he wouldn't run away anymore, he really wanted to flee right now. It wasn't like Allen would allow it, however. Before he could register what was going on, the shaman started to move his finger back and forth, drawing out faint moans from Nyell.
The sensation was uncomfortable, but it wasn't as unpleasant…?
No, it was starting to feel weirdly good amid the pain. The sensation was a novelty in itself, and Nyell was at a loss. He didn't know whether he wanted Allen to keep going or if he wanted him to stop. That was until a surge of pleasure shook his body, and his legs went almost limp. What the heck was that? He had to bite his bottom lip not to scream, and he bent over to hide his face in the crook of his fated mate's neck. The few gay werewolves he had talked to never told him about that! They always told him it was painful as heck. But if you were lucky, you would get used to it and feel a little good at some point.
A little? They said a little? That wasn't a little at all!
"Can you do that again…?" He heard himself ask, wriggling his butt as if to encourage Allen to touch that place again. Or maybe he was trying to make his finger press that spot a second time, just to understand what exactly had happened, and what was that lingering sensation that shot through his body.
But then, that was when Nyell heard a weird rattling noise, and Allen stopped mid-movement. What, why? An ominous premonition swirled in the pit of his stomach, and he slowly glanced over his shoulder. In the door frame stood Layla, who had her head tilted on the side, her curious eyes staring at them. She looked like a child who had stumbled upon her parents doing it, not comprehending what was going on, or knowing what to do. Not like Nyell or Allen knew what to do in this situation, either.