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one finger.
"I'm surprised you're not eager to go you like a good
party." Trick smiled at him and lay back on the bed, hands
behind his head. It pulled the black t-shirt up another couple
of inches.
"Shitty party. Very boring. Stuffy." He leaned over to drop
a kiss on that sweet skin, nuzzling gently.
The phone was set on the bed, his sister's voice a distant
squeal.
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Trick laughed, propping himself back up on both elbows,
which made the muscles of his stomach contract in the most
lovely way. "Isn't she going to know?"
"Know what?" His tongue traced along one side of Trick's
navel, lapping up the hint of salt.
Trick moaned and his stomach muscles clenched tighter.
"That you're not ... oh ... listening."
"Oh, who the fuck cares." He reached out and pushed the
phone off the bed, pushing Trick's t-shirt up a bit higher.
"She'll live."
That made Trick laugh and he lay back again, pushing his
stomach up toward Bast's mouth. "If you make me scream a
lot then she'll hear, and she'll know you're having sex, or
killing someone I suppose, instead of listening to her..."
"Mmm ... that'll really piss her off and get the two of us
laid in the process. Excellent plan, Sweets." He began to
nibble, sharp little bites along Trick's skin that he immediately
eased, teasing and arousing.
Trick moaned loudly, pushing into the bites and licks. "I
only ever have ... I have ... have ... oh fuck it don't stop,
baby-boy."
He had no intention of stopping, not now that he had
Trick's flavor on his tongue. He moved up, pushing the shirt
as he went, uncovered the tight nipples. With a grin, he
snagged the little bud of flesh with a fang, then suckled,
pulling fiercely for only a moment before closing the wound.
Not enough to push either of them over the edge, but enough
to drive them both mad, he repeated the actions again and
again.
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Trick's hands were in his hair, twisting and holding him
tight. There was a hard, hot bulge in the black jeans, Trick
pushing up and rubbing against his legs with short, desperate
movements.
He lifted up to look, eyes hot in his head. "Want to fuck
you when I feed, Sweets."
"Oh fuck!" Trick jerked against him, finger's tightening in
his hair. "Yes. Fuck yes."
He surged up, heat and hunger and ferocity filling him,
fangs resting against Trick's neck. "Lose the pants and get
the fucking lube, love. I'm hungry."
"Shit!" Trick's hands slid between them, fingers ripping at
his button and pulling down the zipper. Then he began to
wriggle, working the tight jeans off, eyes never leaving
Bast's.
His own fingers were doing the same, pushing the slacks
down over his hips, body hot and hard and so hungry, so very
... "Hurry, Trick." His fangs just pierced the skin, the scent of
the fresh blood a tease.
Trick jerked again, feet kicking the jeans away. "Fuck!
Screw the lube, baby-boy, just do it."
He reached down, smearing the head of his cock with the
drops of precome that formed there. Then he pressed against
Trick's entrance, pushing inside as his teeth sank into Trick's
throat.
Sweets screamed for him, loud and long, body pushing
into both invasions, pulling him in deeply and flooding into
him at the same time. Wild pleasure, so erotic, so necessary,
so huge, drove him into Trick's body, mouth pulling as his
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by Sean Michael
hips pushed. His hands were tight upon his that lean body,
tugging the beloved form closer, farther, nearer.
Trick own hands were like bands around his arms, holding
on as his Sweets jerked between the sensations, still
screaming softly, loudly, fading, rising.
He climax hit him hard, tongue sliding across the wound to
close it just before he began to jerk in pleasure.
Trick whimpered beneath him, hands holding on like that
was all that was keeping Trick together. "Fuck, if that's what
happens when you talk to your sister, I'm setting her number
on autodial."
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by Sean Michael
Chapter Eight
Hungry.
He was hungry, could feel it curling up his belly, into his
chest, making his jaw tight.
Trick was gone, some nonsense about his mother and
brother and a wedding. He hadn't been exceptionally excited
about going, but it had only been a week and Bast thought
maybe Trick wanted to make his appearance, show them he
was happy and settled and independent.
At this point it didn't really matter. A week was a week
was a week was seven whole days without eating and he was
hungry.
He paced restlessly, fingers itching to reach for the phone,
call Trick's cell, find out if he was at the airport, in the taxi, in
the elevator.
The familiar groaning of the elevator warned him someone
was on their way down. If it was Rose or Bael, he was going
to commit murder; it had to be Trick, he needed it to be
Trick.
He snarled, furious at the snail's pace of the fucking piece
of shit elevator, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It finally
settled, the doors beginning to open and he stepped forward.
"Sweets? Trick? 's it you?"
"Oh, baby-boy, I was worried I'd forgotten what you
looked like." Trick looked tired, but those blue eyes lit up as
they landed on him.
"Oh, Trick." Bast could smell Trick, it made his balls ache,
his stomach clench.
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He wanted and needed and hungered and had for days and
now his heartbeat, his Chosen, was home. He looked up, his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]