Chapter 7: The Eastern Ridge
Kael didn't run to the eastern ridge.
He walked.
Every step deliberate, boots crunching over fallen leaves and pine needles. The sound felt too loud in the quiet night, like a warning he chose to ignore. The pack house lights had long faded behind him, leaving only moonlight, wind, and that relentless pull in his chest—less instinct now, more like chains he couldn't break.
He told himself this was scouting. Checking a rogue scent. Making sure no real threat had slipped through the border.
Lies.
He knew exactly who waited.
His cock had stayed heavy since the summit, rubbing against fresh briefs with every stride, pre-cum already making the fabric cling uncomfortably. His hole hadn't stopped leaking—warm slick sliding down between his cheeks, soaking the seam of his pants again, making his thighs slick when they brushed together. He could feel the wetness with every movement, obscene and constant.
He hated how his body kept preparing. Hated how every few steps his hole clenched on nothing, fluttering like it remembered Ronan's fingers, Ronan's heat, Ronan's promise to fill him until he couldn't walk straight.
He stopped at the tree line where the ridge dropped away. Breathed deep. Tried to steady himself.
The scent hit harder here—strong, fresh, deliberate. Ronan wasn't hiding. He wanted to be found.
Kael stepped out into the open.
Ronan was already there.
Sitting on a fallen log at the ridge's edge, legs spread wide, elbows on his knees, hands dangling loose between them. Shirtless again, jeans unbuttoned at the top like he'd been touching himself while he waited. Moonlight carved every line of muscle, every scar, every inch of him into something almost too much to look at.
He didn't stand when Kael approached. Just lifted his head slowly, amber eyes glowing faintly, and smiled.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice low and rough. "Thought you might turn back."
Kael stopped a few feet away. Arms crossed. Trying to look like he had control.
"I came to tell you to get the fuck off my land," he said.
Ronan laughed—soft, dark, amused. "Sure you did."
He stood then. Slow. Unhurried. The jeans slipped a little lower on his hips, showing more of that deep V of muscle, the dark trail of hair leading down. His cock was already half-hard, thick outline pressing against denim.
Kael's mouth went dry.
Ronan walked closer. Stopped just out of reach.
"You're still hard," he said quietly. "Still leaking. Slick running down your thighs again. Hole probably so wet it's making that pretty ass of yours glisten under those pants."
Kael's cock jerked. A fresh pulse of pre-cum pushed out. He clenched his jaw.
"Shut your mouth."
Ronan stepped closer. Close enough that Kael could feel his body heat. Close enough to see the pulse hammering in Ronan's throat, see the way his pupils were blown wide.
"Why?" Ronan murmured. "You like hearing it. Like knowing how fucking desperate you are. Like knowing your hole's clenching right now, begging to be stretched around my cock."
Kael's breath came short. His hole fluttered hard—more slick leaking, warm and obscene.
Ronan's hand lifted. Slow. Gave Kael time to pull away.
He didn't.
Ronan's fingers brushed Kael's jaw, then slid down to his throat—thumb pressing lightly over the bruise he'd left last night.
"You could stop this," Ronan said. "Walk away. Go back to your pack house. Jerk off alone thinking about me while you finger that dripping hole and pretend it's enough."
Kael swallowed. The movement made Ronan's thumb press harder.
"But you won't," Ronan continued. "Because it's not enough. Because you want the real thing. Want me to shove you against this log, yank your pants down, spread you open, and fuck you so deep you feel me in your throat."
Kael's vision tunneled. His cock throbbed painfully. His hole clenched so hard a trickle of slick ran down his leg.
Ronan's other hand slid to Kael's hip. Fingers digging in.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered. "Say the word and I'll go."
Kael's voice came out wrecked. "I hate you."
Ronan's smile was slow. Dangerous.
"I know."
He leaned in. Lips brushing Kael's ear.
"Then hate-fuck me, alpha. Pin me down. Make me take every inch of that fat cock. Or let me bend you over right here. Let me fuck you raw until you're screaming my name and coming so hard you black out."
Kael's control snapped.
He grabbed Ronan by the throat—harder than before—and shoved him back against the fallen log. Ronan went willingly, back hitting wood with a thud, legs spreading instinctively.
Kael loomed over him. Breathing ragged. Cock straining so hard it hurt.
Ronan looked up at him—eyes dark, hungry, lips parted.
"Do it," he rasped. "Fuck me. Claim me. Or let me claim you. Either way, stop pretending you don't want this."
Kael's hand tightened on Ronan's throat. His other hand ripped at Ronan's jeans—button popping, zipper tearing down. Ronan's cock sprang free—thick, flushed, leaking steadily.
Kael wrapped a hand around it—rough, possessive. Stroked once. Hard.
Ronan groaned, hips bucking up into the grip.
"That's it," Ronan breathed. "Take what you want. Use me."
Kael's hole clenched again—slick dripping freely now, soaking his pants completely.
He leaned down. Mouth crashing against Ronan's—brutal, teeth clashing, tongues fighting. Ronan kissed back like he was starving, hands yanking at Kael's shirt, claws shredding fabric.
Kael broke the kiss. Panted against Ronan's lips.
"I'm not submitting," he growled.
Ronan's hand slid between them—found Kael's zipper, tugged it down, wrapped fingers around Kael's leaking cock.
"Neither am I," he whispered. "So let's see who breaks first."
They rutted against each other—clothes half-on, hands everywhere, growls mixing with moans. Kael's fingers found Ronan's hole—slick, hot, ready. He pushed two in without warning.
Ronan arched, cursing, hips snapping forward.
"Fuck—yes—"
Kael fucked him with his fingers—rough, deep—while Ronan stroked him in return, thumb swiping over the head, spreading pre-cum.
Neither gave in.
Neither begged.
But both were shaking.
Both were leaking.
Both were right on the edge.
Kael pulled his fingers out. Shoved Ronan harder against the log.
"Turn over," he snarled.
Ronan grinned—feral, bloody.
"Make me."
Kael flipped him—rough, possessive—bent him over the log. Yanked Ronan's jeans down further. Spread him open.
Ronan groaned, ass up, hole clenching on nothing.
Kael pressed his cock against that slick entrance—hot, teasing, not pushing in.
"Not yet," he growled. "Not until you beg."
Ronan laughed—breathless, dark.
"Then make me beg, alpha."
Kael thrust forward—just the head, stretching Ronan open.
Ronan moaned—low, wrecked.
They stayed like that—locked, trembling, neither moving.
Neither submitting.
But both so close to breaking.
The moon watched.
And somewhere deep inside, both their wolves howled the same truth.
This wasn't ending tonight.
But it was getting closer.