Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

again."
    Deshi sniffled and shook his head. "Deshi's home not with humans. Deshi's home with Kaanan. With you . I want my home to be with you!"
    Heat moved through Kaanan, settling in his chest and belly. He tightened his grip around Deshi, not letting Deshi's weak protests succeed in separating them. Why did Deshi say he wanted to be close, but then push him away? It didn't make any sense to him. What made sense was the love he felt, that warmth and desire to keep Deshi safe and close to him. He tried to think of the correct words, form them in his head before speaking them carefully. "I... want Deshi—" He paused for a moment, trying to use the words Deshi was teaching him. "I want you... to stay."
    Deshi stopped struggling against him, and he leaned in to lick away a couple more tears as they fell down Deshi's cheeks. "I stay, you teach, and I learn?" Deshi asked, his voice soft. When he leaned in close to sniff along Deshi's skin, he smelled that sweet fear again, the kind that was softer than survival. It was more like hope. Deshi was hoping for his answer.
    He purred as he smiled, brushing Deshi's hair back from his face. "Yes. Deshi stay and learn." He liked that thought. "I protect you."
    "No bringing humans back," Deshi said, leaning into his touch.
    "No more humans," he promised in return. Deshi smiled faintly. The boy brought a hand up to stroke along his chest, and his eyes closed for a moment. "Deshi help protect cats."
    Deshi's smile broadened. "Yes. Protect Kaanan, cats, and jungle."
    It was a sweet promise, one he knew Deshi could hardly keep. The boy was perhaps a hundred pounds soaking wet. But that Deshi wanted to... that was worth everything to him. He took Deshi's mouth in one of those hungry kisses the boy liked so much, and he pulled their bodies together. Deshi fit in his arms as if he'd been made for him, and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss. Soft sounds of want filled the kiss as Deshi moved against him, and he quickly bore Deshi to the ground.
    With a swipe of his large hand, the cloths they used to cover themselves were cast aside. He let his weight settle against the boy, and he thrust, rubbing their bodies together as he devoured every little whimper and cry Deshi offered him. It was base and hungry, careless and thoughtless, and he would have simply turned Deshi onto his belly and taken him if Deshi hadn't stopped him in the middle of doing just that.
    "Wait!" Deshi panted. He frowned as he watched Deshi crawl to their shelter, motioning for him to follow. He growled, stalking into the simple hut, and Deshi waited, holding up the small clay pot of oil they'd been adding to each time he'd found some coconuts. "I don't want to hurt," the boy murmured, kneeling on the pad of grasses they used for a bed.
    He growled and chuffed, joining Deshi on their mat. He took the jar from Deshi. "Kaanan will not hurt you," he swore before drawing Deshi into another heated kiss.
    Deshi melted against him, slowly crawling back into his lap. It was like the boy accepted his promises without a moment's hesitation. To be given such faith, such utter trust and submission, was one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs he'd ever experienced. He wouldn't betray that trust. Deshi was his, and he would take care of the boy, tonight and always, be it lovemaking or teaching Deshi to hunt and gather.
    He wrapped an arm around Deshi and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the small pool of oil in the pot. He curled his tongue around Deshi's, nipped his lower lip, and reveled in the soft, desperate sounds Deshi gave in return when he brought his fingers to the boy's hole. He pushed two fingers inside without too much trouble and made swift work of spreading the oil, adding a bit more to his fingers before pressing a third digit inside Deshi as well. The foreplay was delightful, and the way the boy moved against him was almost sinful.
    "Kaanan," Deshi whimpered, burying his face against his neck. He purred, nuzzling and nipping at Deshi's earlobe to try to distract from the momentary discomfort. They so rarely needed words in moments like these, and he liked it that way. It allowed scent and touch and taste to become just as important, and he could feel when Deshi began to open to him, relax into the gentle thrusts of his fingers.
    It was when Deshi's hand snaked between them and stroked him lightly that he groaned. A low, possessive growl escaped him as he nudged the pot of oil toward Deshi. The boy needed no