Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Kael made it through the rest of the summit without looking at Ronan again.
He answered questions in clipped sentences, signed the border agreement with a steady hand, even exchanged a few civil words with the council elders. On the outside, he was the same cold, untouchable Ironfang alpha everyone expected.
Inside, he was on fire.
His cock hadn't gone fully soft since the trees. The knot at the base stayed swollen, heavy, throbbing with every heartbeat. Slick leaked steadily from his hole now—wet, warm, sliding down between his cheeks with every step. He could feel it soaking the seam of his pants, making the fabric cling uncomfortably. His briefs were ruined.
He hated how his body kept betraying him. Hated how every time he shifted weight, the friction sent a fresh spike of need straight to his core. Hated that he could still taste Ronan on his tongue—blood, salt, raw want.
The moon was high when the summit finally broke. Wolves scattered—some shifting to run the borders, others pairing off in the shadows for quick, desperate fucks. Kael stayed in the open as long as he could, refusing to slink away like he was running from something.
But Ronan wasn't letting him off that easy.
He felt the rogue before he saw him. That cedar-smoke scent cutting through the night again, closer this time, deliberate.
Kael turned.
Ronan was leaning against the same oak from earlier, arms crossed, jeans still tented, eyes locked on Kael like prey.
Kael's hole clenched hard. A fresh gush of slick pushed out. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning.
Ronan pushed off the tree and walked straight toward him—slow, no rush, like he had all night.
Kael didn't move. Didn't run. Just watched him come, chest tight, cock jerking painfully behind his zipper.
Ronan stopped inches away again. Close enough that Kael could see the pulse hammering in his throat, see the fresh claw marks he'd left earlier still red and raised.
"You're shaking," Ronan said quietly. "Can smell how wet you are from here. Your hole's dripping down your thighs, isn't it? Soaking everything. Begging for cock."
Kael's breath came short. "Back off."
Ronan didn't. He stepped closer until their bodies brushed—chest to chest, hips aligning so Kael could feel the thick heat of Ronan's erection pressing against his own.
Ronan's hand slid low, palm flat against Kael's stomach, fingers dipping just under the waistband of his pants. Not inside. Just teasing the edge.
"Tell me to stop," Ronan whispered. "Say it like you mean it, and I'll walk away. Right now."
Kael's throat worked. He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Ronan's fingers slipped lower—slow, deliberate—brushing the leaking head of Kael's cock through soaked fabric.
Kael hissed. His hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"That's what I thought," Ronan murmured. "You're so fucking wet for me, alpha. Hole clenching, cock leaking, knot swollen like it's ready to burst. You want this bad."
Kael grabbed Ronan's wrist—hard—but didn't pull him away.
Ronan's other hand came up, thumb tracing the bruise on Kael's throat. "I can smell how ready you are. Slick running down your crack, making you slippery inside. Bet if I pushed two fingers in right now, you'd take them easy. Moan like a bitch in heat."
Kael's vision blurred at the edges. His hole fluttered, more slick pushing out, dripping visibly now if anyone looked close.
"Shut up," he rasped.
Ronan's hand slid fully inside Kael's pants—rough fingers wrapping around his cock, stroking once, slow and firm.
Kael's head fell back against the oak behind him. A low, broken sound escaped his throat.
Ronan pressed in closer, thigh shoving between Kael's legs, grinding up against his balls.
"Say it," Ronan growled against his ear. "Say you want my cock stretching that tight hole. Say you want my knot locking inside you, filling you up until you're leaking my cum for days."
Kael's claws dug into Ronan's shoulders. He could feel the swell of Ronan's own knot pressing against his thigh through denim—thick, insistent, promising.
He wanted it.
Fuck, he wanted it so bad his legs trembled.
But pride was a stubborn thing.
He shoved Ronan back—harder this time. Enough to make the rogue stagger.
"I don't want shit from you," Kael snarled, voice wrecked. "I don't need your knot. I don't need you."
Ronan caught himself against the tree, breathing heavy, eyes blazing.
"Then why are you still hard?" he shot back. "Why is your hole still dripping? Why can I smell how fucking desperate you are?"
Kael zipped up with shaking hands. His cock protested, knot throbbing angrily at the confinement.
"Because I hate you," he said quietly. "And I hate how much I want to fuck you until you break."
Ronan's grin was slow, feral.
"Then hate-fuck me," he said. "Right here. Right now. Pin me down, shove that fat cock in my mouth, make me choke on it. Or bend over and let me finally knot that greedy hole of yours. Either way, we both win."
Kael's hole clenched so hard he almost came untouched.
He took one step forward—then stopped.
Turned.
Walked away again.
But this time his steps were slower. Shaky.
Ronan watched him go, chest heaving, cock still straining, knot swollen and aching.
He didn't follow.
Not yet.
But he knew.
Kael was cracking.
One more push.
One more night.
And the stubborn alpha would finally bend.
Or break.
Either way, Ronan would be there to catch him when he did.