Page 59 of Cassian is Getting Out

They stopped by consensus in front of a wrought-iron bench, painted dark green, positioned under one of the plane trees where the lamplight barely reached. A brass plaque was bolted to the backrest, and Cassian bent to read it.

“In loving memory of Miles Green,” he read aloud, the words coming easily since the letters were large and well-spaced. “A devoted member who gave freely of himself to this garden.”

Ruari’s hand came out of his pants and landed on the top of his head instead, ruffling his hair. “Look at you, Cass.”

Cassian shot upright so fast he nearly headbutted Ruari’s chin. The praise hit him like sunlight through a window, and he tipped his face up to make sure Ruari could see how pleased he was with it.

“Want to take Miles’s lead and give yourself freely to this alpha?” Ruari murmured, pulling Cassian in by the hips.

It was the worst chat-up line Cassian had ever heard, and he’d heard a lot during his Teen Dramas era, but that didn’t matter, since it was directed at him and it was from Ruari.

“Yes,” he said, and pulled Ruari down onto the bench by the front of his shirt, and kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

Cassian shoved his pants down his thighs and kicked them off without breaking the kiss. They landed in the dark behind the bench where Miles Green’s ghost would have to deal with them.

Ruari’s hands found his bare hips. Cassian swung one knee over Ruari’s lap, then the other, straddling him on the bench. Ruari’s joggers were already shoved down past his cock, thick and hard, curving up against his stomach, and Cassian reached between them to wrap his hand around it.

“Condom,” Ruari said against his mouth, already twisting towards his pocket.

Cassian caught his wrist and put his hand back on his hip. “The GP gave me contraception weeks ago. And all my tests came back clean. I don’t want anything between us.”

Ruari looked at him for a long second. Then his fingers tightened on Cassian’s hip.

He’d been wet since Ruari lifted him off the doorstep, and when he lined Ruari up and sank down, the fullness arrived like relief from an aching pain. Cassian buried his face in the alpha’s neck, breathed him in, and thought, there you are.

He tried to move. Kneeling on the bench was uncomfortable. The iron slats dug into his shins, and every time he lifted himself up, the angle shifted and he had to find Ruari’s cock all over again. His thighs burned after the third stroke. He braced both hands on Ruari’s shoulders and tried to set a rhythm, grinding down with his full weight before dragging himself up, but his legs shook with the effort and his movements came out jerky and graceless, nothing like the smooth rolling hip work that the omegas on television made look effortless.

Ruari let him try to figure it out for a few seconds, before both his arms locked around Cassian’s waist.

“Come here,” Ruari said, and then Cassian’s weight was nothing. Ruari’s arms lifted him up the full length of his cock and brought him down in one fluid stroke that drove deep.

Ruari bounced him on his shaft, arms flexing beneath Cassian’s thighs, setting a pace that Cassian’s own legs hadn’t been able to manage. Each downstroke drove the thick head into the most sensitive part of him. Cassian stopped trying to participate and just let things happen. His forehead dropped to Ruari’s shoulder. His arms went loose on Ruari’s neck, boneless and pliant. He was just a doll that Ruari could position however he wanted while the wet sounds of Cassian’s slick filled the garden and the bench creaked under them.

Ruari fucked up into him in short, hard strokes, his hips snapping off the bench to meet the downward pull of his own arms. Cassian’s cock was trapped between their stomachs, leaking steadily, and every thrust ground it against the hard ridge of Ruari’s abdomen, stoking the pressure building inside him.

Cassian came without touching himself, clenching tight on Ruari’s shaft as his cock pulsed between them, streaking Ruari’s stomach and the bunched-up fabric of his shirt with come. Ruari buried himself to the root and held Cassian down on his lap, his hips jerking in rough, uneven spasms while he emptied inside him.

When Ruari’s cock softened enough to slip out of Cassian, the warm rush of come that followed it down Cassian’s inner thighs made him shiver with satisfaction.

He sat back on Ruari’s lap and looked down at the mess he’d made on the alpha’s stomach. His come was smeared across the dark hair below Ruari’s navel, and Cassian dragged two fingers through it slowly, tracing the creamy streaks across Ruari’s skin.

“My alpha,” he said.

Ruari caught his wrist, lifted Cassian’s hand to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, his lips warm on the mess still there. “Yours.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cassian had an alpha, and the MOAN group chat was going to hear about it whether they wanted to or not.

The campaign began on a Monday with a photo of Ruari’s hands dusted in flour, arranging croissants on a baking tray. Cassian had taken it from the customer side of the counter, angling his mobile low enough to capture the full span of Ruari’s fingers wrapped around the pastry.

He captioned it: look at these

Ivar replied within minutes. Those could crush a man’s skull like a melon. Not like my Toby’s, whose soft hands cannot even be depended on to open a jar. He has an ELECTRIC JAR OPENER that he bought online. I am descended from Vikings, and this is the man my lot is tied to? I would not have survived the winters with him as my mate, in the olden days.

Cassian sent him a frown emoji.

On Tuesday, Cassian caught Ruari bending over the counter to wipe down the far end, and the photo he took of Ruari’s arse straining against his jeans was, in Cassian’s professional opinion, the finest piece of photography produced in the borough of Kensington and Chelsea since the invention of the camera. He sent it without caption, because art spoke for itself.