I Rejected My Alpha Stepbrother, So the Moon Made Him Kneel novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Sheep Wagon

Alone in a herder's wagon at Dry Creek, Fionn burns with heat and hate while Mikel's mouth and fingers take him apart, until Mikel dares him to say stop.

The sheep wagon sat in the sage at Dry Creek camp with its curved tin roof silver under the moon.

Mikel kicked the door open and carried Fionn up the two steps inside.

It was a herder's wagon, one narrow bunk, a stove, a shelf of canned beans, and a quilt that smelled of mothballs and old wool.

Mikel set him down on the bunk and Fionn tried to crawl away from him.

He got as far as the wall.

The heat had him by the spine now.

Every inch of skin felt too small, and the slick ran down the back of his thighs and soaked into his jeans.

"Get out," Fionn said.

"No," Mikel said.

"I'll walk to the road."

"You can't stand up."

That was true, which made it worse.

Mikel shut the door and dropped the bar across it.

Then he stood in the little room with his head bent under the roof curve and blood drying on his collar, and looked at Fionn.

"Take your boots off," he said.

"Go to hell."

"Take them off, or I will."

Fionn kicked at him.

Mikel caught his ankle, pulled the boot off, then the other, and threw them on the floor.

His hands went to Fionn's belt.

"Don't touch me."

"You're soaked through." Mikel's voice was rough. "Smell yourself, Casey. You've wanted me to touch you since the second the moon came out."

"I've wanted you dead."

"Both."

He opened the belt and the jeans and dragged them down Fionn's legs.

Fionn's cock stood hard against his stomach, wet at the tip, and the cool air on it made him groan through his teeth.

He hated the sound.

He hated more that Mikel heard it and his gold eyes went darker.

"Look at you," Mikel said.

He knelt on the floor of the wagon between Fionn's knees and pushed them apart with both hands.

Fionn grabbed the quilt.

Mikel put his mouth on the inside of his thigh, where the slick had run, and licked it clean in one long stroke.

Fionn's whole body bucked.

"Urrutia." It was out before he could stop it, and he bit his lip bloody. "Stop."

Mikel lifted his head.

His mouth shone.

"Say it like you mean it," he said.

Fionn glared down at him.

His body shook with the effort of not arching up into that mouth.

He did not say it again.

Mikel smiled, a slow, hard, terrible smile, and bent and took Fionn's cock into his mouth to the root.

The sound that came out of Fionn was not a word.

His fists tore at the quilt and his hips drove up off the bunk.

Mikel took it, hands pinning his hips down, throat working around him.

It was hot and wet and exact, and nobody had ever done it to him.

Mikel's tongue pressed up under the head and pulled slow, and Fionn's eyes rolled back.

"Fuck. Fuck, you bastard."

Mikel hummed.

The vibration went up Fionn's spine and he came apart, hot and hard down Mikel's throat, shouting at the tin roof.

Mikel swallowed every drop.

It did not help.

The heat did not break.

It rolled over him, a second wave, and Fionn lay panting with his cock still hard and the ache behind it worse than before.

He needed something inside him.

He could not say it.

Mikel wiped his mouth with his thumb and looked at him, and understood anyway.

"Turn over," he said.

"No."

"Then lie there and ask me."

Fionn stared at the ceiling.

His whole body begged.

He rolled onto his stomach with a snarl and got his knees under him on the bunk.

He put his face in the pillow so Mikel would not see it.

"Good," Mikel said behind him.

It was the first kind word he had ever said to Fionn, and it went through him so hard his hole clenched on nothing.

Hands spread him open.

Mikel's breath fell on his skin, and then his tongue.

Fionn screamed into the pillow.

The tongue went flat and wet over his hole, and pushed, and circled, and slick came helplessly out of him to meet it.

Mikel groaned against him.

He worked in with his tongue, eager and filthy, his thumbs holding Fionn's cheeks wide.

Fionn's hips rocked back against his face without asking his permission.

"Please," Fionn said into the pillow. "Please, I hate you, please."

A finger slid in beside the tongue.

It was thick and slow and easy, because he was so wet, and Fionn pushed back on it with a broken sound.

A second finger followed.

Mikel crooked them, and white light burst behind Fionn's eyes.

"There," Mikel said against him. "That's where you've been hiding."

He fucked Fionn with his fingers and licked around them, over and over.

Fionn sobbed dry into the quilt and shook from his knees to his teeth.

A third finger stretched him, and the burn of it was good, and he said so, brokenly, in words he would never forgive himself for.

"Louder," Mikel said.

"Go to hell."

"Louder, Casey. Tell the wagon how much you hate this."

"I hate it," Fionn gasped. "I hate you. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

Mikel laughed, low and shaky, and kissed the small of his back.

It was a soft kiss, and it was wrong, and Fionn's whole chest hurt at it.

Then Mikel bit the same spot, hard, and the hurt went somewhere easier.

He pulled his fingers out, and the emptiness was so sharp that Fionn cried out and reached back blindly for him.

Mikel caught his wrist and pinned it to the small of his back.

"Patience," he said.

"I'll kill you."

"After."

Then the hands left him.

He heard a zipper.

He heard the heavy breathing of a man at the end of his patience.

Something thick and blunt and hot pressed against his hole and did not push in.

"Last chance, stray," Mikel said, and his voice was wrecked. "Tell me to stop."

Fionn turned his head on the pillow.

He looked back over his shoulder at the man kneeling behind him, scarred and bloody and shaking, with his cock in his fist.

"Do it," Fionn said.

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