Noah was losing himself.
The heat, the pressure, the way Theron's hands gripped and guided—it was all too much, yet somehow, not enough.
The alpha was everywhere.
Mouth at his throat, breath hot against his too-sensitive skin, hands trapping him against the rough bark.
Noah should push back.
He should fight.
But every time Theron touched him, every time his lips grazed over Noah's pulse—slow, teasing, dangerous—he lost another piece of himself.
"Theron—"
"Shh."
A whisper against his skin. A command. A promise.
Noah barely had time to process it before Theron's teeth scraped over his throat again. Testing. Teasing. Toying with something dangerous.
His entire body jerked.
A sharp inhale. A shudder.
Theron felt it.
His grip tightened. His breath turned heavier.
"You feel that?" His voice was low, rough. His hands wandered, skimming the edges of Noah's shirt, fingers brushing bare skin. "The way you react to me?"
Noah gritted his teeth. "You're insufferable."
Theron chuckled, dark and pleased. "And you're trembling."
Noah tried to pull away, to put any space between them, but Theron wouldn't let him.
The alpha pressed closer, harder, until there was nothing but heat, nothing but the slow, torturous build of something unspoken.
Then—
Theron's knee nudged between Noah's legs.
Noah sucked in a sharp breath.
Theron smirked. "Ah."
Bastard.
Noah's hands flew to Theron's chest, but when he pushed, Theron didn't budge. If anything, the alpha's grip just tightened, his fingers splaying over Noah's hips, thumbs pressing into sensitive spots that made Noah's breath stutter.
"Let me go," Noah hissed.
Theron leaned in, lips just shy of touching his own. "Say that like you mean it."
Noah hated him.
Hated the way Theron was so sure of himself, so damn smug about the way Noah reacted.
Hated the way he was right.
Theron's mouth brushed the corner of Noah's lips, a ghost of a touch, a taunt.
Noah clenched his fists. "You think I'll just fall apart for you?"
Theron hummed, teasingly slow, lips dragging down Noah's jaw, trailing lower, lower, until they were at the curve of his throat.
"You already are."
Then—
He bit.
Not hard. Not deep.
But firm. Purposeful. Possessive.
Noah choked on a gasp, his entire body jerking, arching into the hold he swore he didn't want.
Oh, fuck.
Theron groaned, a deep, wrecked sound, like he felt it too—like he was just as undone by this as Noah was.
His hands flexed, gripping Noah tighter, like he was barely holding himself back.
Noah's breath was uneven, ragged, his fingers curling into Theron's shirt before he could stop himself.
Theron felt it.
And he grinned.
"You like that, don't you?"
Noah wanted to deny it, wanted to snarl something sharp—
But then Theron's tongue flicked over the spot he just bit.
Noah's knees buckled.
Theron caught him instantly, one hand sliding down, steadying him, holding him exactly where he wanted.
"Fuck," Noah whispered, eyes slamming shut, his entire body betraying him so damn easily.
Theron's breath was hot against his skin. "Told you."
Noah hated him.
Hated how good he was at this. Hated that his body wasn't listening to him anymore.
But what he hated the most?
Was that when Theron's lips brushed over that same damn spot, when he felt the sharp tease of his teeth again—
Noah tilted his head, just slightly, giving him more room.
It was instinctual. Uncontrolled.
And Theron noticed.
His grip tightened, a growl vibrating in his chest, deep and wrecked.
"Noah."
The way he said his name—low, rough, like it was unraveling him from the inside out—shouldn't have made something twist deep in his gut.
But it did.
And when Theron pushed forward, when he pinned Noah even harder, trapping him completely—
Noah let him.
Because he was so fucking screwed.
And they both knew it.