The Human Among Wolves Chapter 126

Aurora

He obliged, pace quickening just enough—short, sharp thrusts that slapped our skin together, his balls brushing my ass with each drive. I wrapped one leg higher around him, the denim scraping his side, pulling him impossibly closer. My free hand tangled in his hair, yanking him back for another kiss, messy and desperate, tongues sliding as moans muffled between us. The build was relentless now, my clit throbbing under the pressure, walls fluttering in warning.

Outside, a distant creak echoed—footsteps? A door? My heart stuttered, but Zayn didn't falter, his hand clamping over my mouth gently, eyes flashing with shared thrill.

"Shh, stay quiet for me," he breathed, thrusting deeper, the risk only fueling the fire.

I nodded against his palm, biting my lip under his fingers, the danger sharpening everything—the wet sounds of him fucking me, the tremble in my thighs, the way my body betrayed me with a fresh gush of wetness.

It hit me like a wave crashing, orgasm ripping through without mercy, my muffled cry vibrating into his hand as I came around his cock, milking him with rhythmic pulses. My pussy clenched hard, waves of pleasure pulsing from my core, soaking us both as my body shook beneath him. Zayn's thrusts faltered, his rhythm breaking into erratic drives, his face twisting with the strain of holding back.

Just as I started to come down, panting against his palm, he pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making me whine. His cock, slick and throbbing, hovered at my entrance, veins pulsing under the flushed skin. He released my mouth, propping himself up on one arm, eyes dark and intense as they met mine.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he rasped, voice rough with need, his free hand stroking his length slowly, the wet glide echoing in the charged air.

My mind reeled, body still twitching from the aftershocks, thighs quivering around the denim barrier at my knees.

The question hung there, raw and demanding, pulling a fresh flush to my cheeks. I glanced down at his cock, then up at his face, the distant footsteps outside forgotten in the haze.

"On me," I breathed, the words tumbling out bold and unfiltered, my hand reaching to guide him closer. "On my stomach... please."

He groaned, low and approving, shifting to straddle my hips without crushing me. His fist pumped faster now, tight and deliberate, the head of his cock swelling as pre-cum beaded at the tip.

I watched, mesmerized, my fingers digging into the sheets as his breaths grew ragged.

"Fuck, baby..."

With a final, guttural curse, he came—thick ropes of hot cum erupting from him, splattering across my bare stomach in heavy spurts. The first jet hit warm and sticky, pooling just below my navel, then another arcing higher, streaking toward my breasts. He aimed with each pulse, milking himself dry until pearly strands coated my skin, dripping down my sides in lazy trails.

He shuddered through it, chest heaving, before collapsing beside me, one hand smearing the mess lightly across my abdomen in a possessive swipe. The warmth seeped into me, mingling with the sweat on my body, a tangible mark of what we'd done.

My jeans still bunched at my knees, pussy exposed and glistening, I lay there catching my breath, the scent of his release sharp in the air.

We stilled, panting, his weight a comforting anchor as reality seeped back in—the rumpled jeans, the half-open shirt, the echo of those footsteps fading down the hall. He eased closer, pulling me into his side. My body hummed, sated but alive, mind racing with what this meant—the forbidden line we'd crossed, the pull I couldn't ignore.

"That was..." I started, but words failed, my hand tracing lazy circles on his chest instead, the sticky warmth on my skin a reminder that lingered.

He didn’t speak right away. He just held me, thumb tracing idle strokes along my hip like he was still trying to convince himself I was real. Eventually, he shifted slightly, his face brushing my temple. “Why’d you come here?” he asked, voice low but steady, more curious than accusing.

I blinked slowly, my mind still foggy. The world outside the room felt distant—blurry, unreal. I almost forgot why I’d come in the first place… until the memory hit me all at once. The woods. The cabin. The endless night. Time bending like a broken thread.

“Oh,” I murmured, lifting my head enough to look at him. “I—Zayn, it’s… it’s Thursday.”

He huffed a soft breath, not surprised. “I know.”

“You know?” I pushed up on my elbow, studying his face. “How?”

“When I came back,” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward the door as if he could still see it, “my phone lit up with the date. I thought it was wrong. Or maybe I’d lost my mind in the woods. But… yeah. I knew.”

I sank back down beside him, resting my cheek on his chest again. His hand slid slowly through my hair, calming, grounding. “I wanted to tell you. It didn’t feel real. Still doesn’t.”

“I know,” he whispered. “None of it does.”

We lay there for a moment, the silence stretching comfortably for the first time since the cabin. His fingers kept threading through my hair, slow and thoughtful, until he paused—mid-stroke, mid-breath.

“Aurora?”

“Mhm? ”

“Kael.”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, disbelief tightening my chest. “Are you seriously bringing him up right now?”

His brow lifted, unbothered. “Yeah. I am.”

“Zayn,” I said, incredulous, “we literally—”

“I know what we did,” he cut in softly. “And I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.” His hand slid from my hair to the back of my shoulder, keeping me close. “But I want to know.”

“Know what?”

His eyes met mine, steady and dark. “If you slept with him.” A beat. “Or anyone.” Another beat, quieter. “Since the first time… with me.”

My breath caught—not from anger, but from the way he asked it. Not a demand. Not suspicion. Just raw vulnerability wrapped in the sharpness of his voice.

“No,” I said, the word slipping out before he finished the thought. “Zayn, no. I haven’t.”

His jaw eased, the tension in his shoulders loosening like a string finally cut. He didn’t say anything right away—just let out a slow breath, something unspoken settling between us.

I reached up and touched his cheek lightly, my fingertips brushing the faint stubble along his jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone else,” I repeated softer. “Not Kael. Not anyone.”

Zayn closed his eyes for a second, like he needed that moment to let the words land. When he opened them again, something in his gaze had changed—less guarded, less angry, touched with something deeper he wasn’t ready to name.

He pulled me back into the circle of his arms, tucking me beneath his chin, his grip just tight enough to feel like a promise neither of us had said out loud.

“I should… probably shower,” I murmured, stretching the words out in a reluctant whisper.

His hand paused mid-stroke. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice growing hoarse with amusement or something close to it. “You should.”

I swatted him lightly in the ribs, refusing to lift my head. “Don’t.”

“What?” he asked, trying—and failing—to hide the smile in his voice. “I didn’t say anything.”

I pulled away just enough to glare at him, but he only looked back with lazy satisfaction, eyes lowered, dark and warm. It made my stomach flip, which only made me want to hide again.