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Heat surrounded Jazz’s cock, causing him to moan as he woke up. Glancing down, Wilder looked up at him with a smile before taking Jazz’s hard length back into his mouth. When the tip hit the back of his mate’s throat and he swallowed, Jazz was sure he was about to lose his damn mind.
“Oh fuck, babe,” Jazz groaned out. “That feels so damn good.” As far as he was concerned waking up with his mate sucking him, or fucking him for that matter, was the best way to start the day. Although, Jazz equally enjoyed doing the same for Wilder.
His head fell back as sheer bliss rolled through him when Wilder flicked his tongue into his slit. “Yes,” he cried out, thrusting his hips up to get more of that talented mouth on him.
Damn, but he loved his mate. Wilder always seemed to know exactly what he needed. After nearly a month of searching for the name of his real father, they had come up empty, again. According to the hospital staff, Jazz’s mother died before ever filling out the birth certificate.
Which also meant the one he had, had been faked by Xeno. It was as if nothing about Jazz was real.
Two fingers pushed deep into Jazz’s entrance, forcing him to forget about the past and focus on what really mattered, his mate.
Hazel-colored eyes shining with love looked up at him as Wilder popped off his dick with a sexy sounding slurp. “Back with me, my mate?” Wilder asked, most likely knowing exactly what Jazz had been thinking about.
“Always,” Jazz said as he reached for his mate. Even as Wilder opened him up for that thick cock, he surged upward and gave Jazz what he wanted, a kiss.
But not just any kiss. One that curled his toes and sent his senses reeling as Wilder dominated his mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Every inch was mapped, tasted, but more importantly, worshipped.
There was no halfway with Wilder. Every time they made love, his mate ensured that Jazz knew just how much he treasured him. It was magical. It also usually drove Jazz out of his mind with lust.
“Please,” he begged as he knew Wilder loved. Not that he blamed his mate. Since Jazz felt the same way whenever he was giving Wilder head, or one of the few times he’d been the one to drive his length into Wilder’s tight body.
He’d never thought his big, strong mate would agree to bottom, but not only had Wilder done so, he’d been the one to suggest it. Apparently, Wilder felt if they were partners, they should share in everything. Although, they preferred it when Jazz bottomed most of the time, every once in a while one of them would request they switch.
Wilder’s two digits curled and brushed against his sweet spot. Jazz swore he saw stars as he flexed his hips to ride those thick digits.
“Babe,” Jazz panted out. “I need you.” Then he added, “Now.”
Every nerve ending in his body was firing as his orgasm built within him while Wilder’s mouth, hands, and especially his fingers, brought him to the brink of ecstasy. But he wanted... No... He needed to feel that thick cock filling him up. “Please,” he cried.
“Anything for my mate,” Wilder whispered in his ear. Then he nipped the fleshy lobe as he tugged his fingers free.
Jazz gasped, hating the empty feeling even though he knew it meant soon he’d get what he desired. Lifting his legs up, he placed his heels on Wilder’s shoulders.
Both of them had their gazes riveted to the spot where the head of Wilder’s cock pressed against his puckered ring. In one deep thrust they were joined. Jazz’s toes curled as his mate bottomed out inside of him.
He wished, more than anything, they could stay just like this forever. But neither of their bodies could survive such torment, because already they were moving together toward that place of bliss where they would truly become one - body, heart, and soul.
With each thrust, Wilder aimed it just right so the ridges of his dick brushed along Jazz’s prostate. Jazz squeezed the muscles of his channel, massaging his mate’s cock in the best possible way.
No matter how many times they did this, it never got boring. Never got old. It was just as breathtaking this time as it had been the first. His body came alive no matter how many times Wilder touched him.
Life hadn’t always been easy for Jazz. In fact, it had been downright horrifying much of the time. It had been hard to believe that the fairytales he’d heard about mates could ever apply to someone like him. A loser. A reject. A disgrace.
He’d always assumed he was never meant to be born. That the gods had made a mistake in allowing him to take his first breath. That was why he’d never allowed himself to dream of the day he’d meet his mate. For no way would the gods make a second mistake by granting him something as precious as a mate.
Even after meeting Wilder, it had taken Jazz time to let himself have faith that the gods wouldn’t realize what they’d given him and take Wilder away. But his mate had refused to doubt in fate, in the gods, but most especially, in Jazz.
His mate had given him the ability to become who he was always meant to be, someone special. For all lives are born with hopes, dreams, and faith in the future.
For Jazz, that future, for the first time in his life, had purpose. He worked hard to create a computer system for the Council that would eventually be able to communicate with all the shifter groups around the world.
Eyes nearly black as their pupils drowned out the hazel, stared down at him. Sweat dripped down both of their bodies as they strove toward their orgasms. Their bodies moved as one in a dance as old as time.
“Wilder,” Jazz called out, his body undulating to meet Wilder’s hard thrusts.
“Come for me, brown eyes,” Wilder demanded.
As if Wilder had complete command over Jazz’s body, his dick erupted as jet after jet of pearly white seed splashed across Jazz’s chest and abdomen.
“Yes,” Wilder cried as leaned down and sank his teeth into Jazz’s neck. He thrust hard once more before filling Jazz’s channel with his essence.
They both breathed hard as they struggled to take in much needed air in a tangle of limbs. Wilder grinned. “Good morning, my mate.”
Jazz chuckled, sort of, as he was still trying to suck in oxygen. “Morning, my mate.”
Wilder leaned in and kissed him but instead of cuddling as he usually did, his mate rolled out of bed and held out his hand. “Come on, lazy bones. We have a job to do and I’m not sure Alpha Asshole is going to appreciate us smelling of sex.”
Oh, right. Jazz not only was helping to create a new computer system, but he was helping those who were mistreated, abused, or even hunted for inhumane reasons by those who felt it okay to judge others for things like being gay, mating outside their species or, in this case, because the shifter being hunted liked to wear women’s underwear.
Like that mattered. First off, who in the hell decided to check what kind of underwear the guy wore? That seemed awfully invasive. Secondly, who cared?
The more cases he and Wilder were assigned, the more Jazz began to think shifters had too much damn time on their hands if they were worried about this shit. Maybe if they paid more attention to their own damn problems and found ways to fix them, they wouldn’t try to make everyone else’s lives miserable.
“You coming?” Wilder asked with an eyebrow arched as he waited for Jazz to take his hand.
Unable to stop the goofy smile that appeared, Jazz took the hand of the man he loved. “You betcha,” he said. So long as he was by his mate’s side, Jazz would go anywhere.
That was the magic of finding one’s mate
