Dangerous Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  “Stop it.” Val’s order came out in an embarrassing croak. He grimaced at the pressure on his aching cock.

  Far from stopping the sweet torture, Mackie turned his head so that now his face was mashed against Val’s bulge. The boy moaned and rubbed his lips along the stretched denim. Val grimaced and mourned the loss of the days when his lower half had been encased in leather. Even jeans were soft and thin enough for the feel of Mackie’s mouth to raise up Val’s arousal another few thousand degrees.

  “Stop!” he tried again, this time, snaring strands of hair and pulling them away.

  But Mackie was done with being a ‘good boy’ apparently because he resisted the effort and doubled down on delivering a semi-blow job. The boy moaned again, the vibrations penetrating the fabric and dancing along Val’s shaft.

  I can end this. Any time he liked, all he had to do was tug strongly on the boy’s hair and put him back in his place. I should end it. Except Mackie wasn’t the only one who was stressed out from the night’s events. It had been difficult hanging back and allowing the boy to distract the cop. Logic had told Val that Mackie was perfectly safe. The more primitive part of him had sweated it out, anyway. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Dracul’s boys were somewhere close. It had to be Dracul’s sons distributing this new drug. The description Duncan had given dictated as much. Dracul had produced two copies of himself, only with more viciousness and fewer brains. Always a bad combination.

  So, instead of doing the right thing, Val took control of the situation in the opposite way. He used his grip to leverage Mackie’s head up, but only so he could unzip his jeans and free his dick. The second the thing sprang out, he pushed Mackie’s head back down. The boy knew what to do. He greedily sucked Val’s cock into that warm, sweet mouth. Having been teased too much already, Val was in no mood for a slow blow job. He needed fast and hard. He forced Mackie to take the shaft down as far as he could. The small human had no gag reflex anymore and his tight, narrow throat encased Val’s cock with a grip that made him come immediately.

  He bucked his hips to send the dick down another inch as he climaxed. Mackie coughed and wrestled against the hold as Val’s cum overloaded the human’s mouth. With his control snapped, Val didn’t let up, not the hold or the coming. A second orgasm released before the first one had finished. The sound of Mackie gagging actually gave him a sense of satisfaction. That’s what happens to brats who push their Doms too much.

  But when a small fist pounded on his chest, he knew Mackie had reached his limit. Val yanked his head back fast enough to cause Mackie’s teeth to graze Val’s still-hard shaft. The bite of pain sent another spurt of cum out, so that it hit Mackie’s swollen lips. The boy sputtered and panted with strings of cum dripping down his chin. The sight of the boy coated with Val’s semen gave Val a strange feeling in the middle of his chest. It felt as if he’d taken a punch to his breastbone. His own breath labored, and he had to look away to regain his calm.

  “Thank you, Sir.” Mackie’s sleepy appreciation forced Val to refocus on him.

  The boy’s eyes were closed and his breathing had slowed. Taking a corner of the blanket, Val carefully wiped the boy’s face clean. The pulse at the base of Mackie’s throat caught and captured Val’s attention. He watched it, hungry and needy, while the boy slept.

  He would not touch Mackie anymore. He’d done enough, had earned his reward, while Val had earned this penance for his failure at being able to let the boy fully go.

  Chapter Seven

  Wales, Dracul’s Castle

  Dracul wiped the remnants of the fucking from his dick, grimacing in disgust at the retching sounds behind him. “Must he keep doing that?”

  “It’s a good sign, sir. Not only does it indicate he has a viable pregnancy, but the extreme nausea may mean he’s carrying twins again.” The doctor sound quite pleased, and as well he should. Dracul had been losing patience with the man before he’d announced that Dafydd was finally breeding.

  “Well, I’m not into vomit sex, so make him stop.” Dracul dragged on his favorite silk dressing gown and sauntered over to the fireplace. A knock on his door caught his attention as he poured a glass of wine. “Enter.”

  Petru glanced in the direction of the bed, wrinkled his nose in disgust before approaching Dracul. “Sir.” He bowed and stood waiting for permission to speak.

  Dracul took a sip of his wine before settling into his favorite chair. “You have good news for me, I trust.”

  “Yes, sir. Your sons have succeeded in introducing the drug to the human population. There have been two public incidents. The second one caused significant damage to property and involved the local police killing a user. It’s all over the Internet, as well as international news.” The man paused. “I was wrong in my advice earlier. Your sons have done you proud, sir.”

  Dracul flicked his gaze at his lieutenant. “Don’t try to flatter me, Petru. You’re terrible at it, plus I value your honesty more than your loyalty. When you cautioned me against giving in to Cadoc and using the boys for this next round of war, I did consider it. Your instincts are often right. They might still be. We both know this little exercise is more a trial balloon for them. It’s almost impossible to fuck this up unless they get stupid.” He took another sip and shrugged. “A possibility I don’t discount, either, given the weak genes they carry of necessity.” He gestured in the direction of the bed where the physician was giving Dafydd something to hopefully soothe the little puke’s stomach.

  “I will continue to monitor the situation carefully, sir.”

  “No. Not necessary. They will either succeed or fail on their own. You’re to give them no help or guidance. I have another job for you.”

  “Anything, sir.”

  Good old Petru, such a suck-up. And not a surprise, given that he’d been a lowly technician onboard ship with little chance of advancement beyond his status in the hive. Being stranded had opened up new possibilities for the man. Dracul had opened them up, that is.

  “As you can see, my seed incubator is not in the best of shape. Fucking him has become a bore. I need someone new—a nice, fresh hole to fuck and a different source of blood. Find me one. As young and unattached as possible, if you please. I don’t want any legal alarm bells going off if it can be avoided.”

  He drained his glass and refilled it. “Humans have become so tiresome with their modern morality. It used to be easy to pick a boy who was barely ripe. A few coins and a father would hand one over without a qualm.” He sighed. No use lamenting what he couldn’t have. Whining was not his style.

  “I will find someone suitable at once, sir.”

  “Yes, yes.” Dracul waved the man away. The sound of Dafydd vomiting again made him grimace. “Oh, do shut up!”

  The Welsh boy’s eyes showed through his curtain of hair. His hatred was visible. Dracul smiled back. He was going to miss the boy’s spirit, but it was time to start in on someone new. Once Dafydd gave birth, Dracul would make a feast of his sweet body.

  He would drain it of every last drop of blood.

  * * * *

  They could hear the patient hollering before the elevator doors opened. Trey stepped onto the hospital floor with Karl at his side. Bronner and Diaz were a short way ahead of them. The four were now officially working the case together because of the information Sullivan and the Cambridge police had given them about vamp. The Newbury Street rampage had put everyone on edge and a lot of weight was crashing down from the top. The problem was now officially global Internet fodder and that kind of publicity wasn’t good for the city. Either of them.

  They’d finished with the autopsy, although nothing new had come of it any more than it had for the jumper, except that Almadeo now accepted that the red pupil issue was drug related. The latest two victims hadn’t gone splat on the ground from a high fall, so it was no longer thought to be trauma-induced. That wasn’t necessarily good news for Duncan. He vacillated hourly between hoping someone would notice that aliens walked among
them and dreading it.

  “Jesus, what’s up with the guy?” This from Karl.

  Bronner glanced over her shoulder. “The doctors say he’s been like that since waking up. It’s not good. They’ve had to strap him down.”

  The young cop on the door looked like she was really reconsidering her career choice. She straightened at their approach then jerked when a loud howl came out of the room. “Sorry, ma’ams, sirs. It’s been like that for hours.”

  “It’s okay, officer,” Diaz said. “Take fifteen. We’re here for that long at least.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.”

  “Oh, any more sign of that boy?”

  Trey hid his wince. A report of a redheaded boy trying to see the patient had come in hours before. There was a BOLO out on him for questioning but no luck so far. And, there wouldn’t be any, because Mackie was safely tucked into the club for the duration, no doubt. It had taken some fast talking to convince Karl that redheaded males were a dime a dozen in Boston and that there was no way Mackie would be slumming it with a druggie. His partner was getting suspicious, though, no doubt about it. It was only a matter of time before Karl wised up to the double life Trey was leading. He was too good a cop not to. There was nothing to be done about it, however, so he turned his attention back to what was playing out in front of him.

  “No, ma’am,” the officer said before she took off.

  “Too bad,” Bronner observed. “We could use a break on this one.”

  Trey scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. Unless the kid was freaking out, he probably wasn’t taking whatever the hell this is. He probably doesn’t know anything useful.”

  “We only need the name of the dealer,” Bronner pointed out. “The kid might know that much.”

  Before Trey could think of a suitable follow-up to get them off Mackie’s scent, a tired-looking doctor came out of the patient’s room. His warm brown eyes were bloodshot and bleary, testament to how he must have been on the end of a long shift.

  He pulled up short at the sight of them. “Oh, hello.”

  Diaz held up her badge. “Sorry to disturb you, Dr….”

  The man ran a hand down his face and blinked a few times. “Paz. Ricardo Paz. I’m the chief resident assigned to this case.”

  Diaz introduced them all. “We’re working this case from different angles and were hoping to interview the patient.” Before the last word was out of her mouth, another howl erupted from the room.

  Dr. Paz winced. “I don’t think that’s likely. He may be awake, but as you can hear, he’s hardly lucid and still very violent. Not only have we had to restrain him, we’ve also taken the risk of giving him a sedative while not knowing what’s in his system. It hasn’t made any difference, and we’ve maxed the dosage. We don’t yet dare try anything else.”

  Trey shoved his hands in his pockets and let the women take the lead. It was still more their case than his. Besides, he was already compromised and didn’t trust himself to ask the right questions. It was mostly routine, anyway. No one really expected to learn anything from this visit, not under the current circumstances. Then something that the doe-eyed doctor said caught his attention.

  “I’m wondering if toxicology would produce useful information if we drew blood differently.” The man’s fatigue dropped away as he became more animated. “I think it’s possible that the chemical composition of the drug is altered the moment it leaves the body. It might be better if we suspend it in an inert solution and observe it in a hermetic environment.”

  Fuck. Dr. Paz was proving to be smarter than the average medical bear. Trey shook off his own tiredness and racked his brains to come up with a persuasive argument against such a tack. Yeah, like he had anything useful to say to a doctor about bloodwork.

  In the next instant, it didn’t matter. A shriek, followed by a loud crash, caught everyone’s attention. They rushed en masse into the hospital room in time to see the patient miraculously out of bed. His restraints lay in tatters and blood streaked down his arms where he’d torn tubes out of his skin. He was using the IV pole to smash his window.

  “What the hell!” Paz rushed forward before Bronner or Diaz could stop him. The patient turned wild-and-red eyes on the man before punching him hard enough to send the doctor flying backward.

  Paz landed against the women, knocking them down like a couple of split ten-pins. It would have been funny if not for the fact that Diaz cracked her head on the wall and the doctor flattened Bronner with his body onto the floor. Ever the gentleman, Karl reached to help the women first. The fact that he would have had to step over them to reach the patient was another factor.

  Trey took a different route. He went over the bed, careful to stay out of swinging range of the pole. “Sir, please calm down.” He felt like an idiot trying to reason with the man.

  The man reared back and beat against the window again. This time, it cracked, the fissures running in all directions. Trey lunged for him but ended up ducking before the pole could smash against his head. By the time he came back up for another try, the patient had used his fists to break the glass completely, the same way he and his friend had done to storefronts.

  It defied belief that he had that kind of strength, except Trey knew the truth. Some variation of alien blood surged through his body, giving him an inhuman amount of power. Jumping up on the sill, the drugged-out man turned his frightening red eyes in Trey’s direction.

  “I am God!” he yelled before jumping.

  “Son of a bitch!” Karl leaped forward and peered down, catching his jacket on the jagged glass. He tore it while freeing himself. Vicious curses spewed out of him, even while he tried to look out of the window.

  There was little point in the effort. They were on the fifth floor. Absent some miracle, the guy was dead. Karl’s weary look when he turned said it all. The doctor was helping Bronner and Diaz, who appeared stunned.

  “Let’s get these women somewhere for examination,” Trey offered, “then go down and start in on that mess.”

  “Fuck that,” Diaz barked. “I’m going, too.” She stumbled into Paz’s waiting arms. “Well, maybe I could use a quick rest first. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a shitload of paperwork, and our case is going down the toilet.”

  There was nothing to say to that obvious statement. There would be a possible ass-reaming for sure, because logic meant nothing with a high-profile case. That fact that he was secretly pleased that the doctor’s theory about the blood couldn’t be put to the test caused him no small amount of guilt. It didn’t change the fact, however, that at that moment, the patient’s alien blood was disintegrating. The only live version was in the hands of an alien doctor back at Club Lux. He could only hope he’d truly hitched his wagon to the good guys.

  * * * *

  The gay gentlemen’s club that fronted for a marooned group of aliens had a soothing quality to it that Trey couldn’t deny. As he entered the quiet, plush place, the noise of the outside faded away. His fatigue, on the other hand, did not. He dragged his feet down the entryway to the main floor. It was early enough that no one was around. While the club was open to members twenty-four-seven, most men were either finishing up at work or heading home for maybe dinner or a change of clothing at that hour. Despite it being Sunday, rich guys worked all the time. That’s what made them rich. He expected the place would be hopping in a few hours. He intended to be long gone and horizontal in his own apartment by then.

  “Hey there, Sergeant Hottie.”

  Trey jerked back at the sudden appearance of the half-alien boy. “Christ, kid, don’t startle me like that.”

  The boy, Demi, got closer, an impish smile on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? Do I make you nervous?”

  The expression on the boy’s face said that he thought he did and delighted in the knowledge. Trey wanted to deny it but didn’t have the acting skills, certainly not when he was dead on his feet, so he didn’t try.

  “Beat it, kid. I’m here to see your
uncle…or cousin. Whatever the hell he is.” He tried to step around the boy.

  Demi blocked him with quick movement that was almost too fast for a human to pull off. He frowned. “You’re always working when you come here. Why not stay and play a while?” He pursed his lips in what he likely thought was a seductive pose.

  Which it was, Goddamn it! “I’m busy. Your kind are making me so. I have no time to play, and besides,” he added with a stern look, “if I did, it wouldn’t be with you.”

  Demi ducked his head and clasped his hands behind him. “Oh, now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. I’m only trying to be friendly.”

  Trey snorted. “Sure you are. You must give your fathers fits,” he added with a shake of his head.

  Demi batted his eyelashes. “Why not? It’s boring being cooped up in here all the time.”

  “It’s safer for you.”

  “I know,” he whined, “but I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.” He peeked up at Trey from under his lashes. “I bet I’d be safe if you took me out.”

  Trey barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right.” The kid was about Trey’s height, wiry-thin, yet probably stronger than Trey could ever be. “Run along now, Demi. The grown-ups have business to attend to.”

  The deliberate slight had the right effect. Demi’s expression went from sultry to mulish. He tossed back his long, black hair. “I’m not as young as you think I am.”

  “Maybe.” Trey looked him up and down. “You’re too young, regardless, from where I’m standing.”

  With a huff and a glare, the boy twirled gracefully and strutted his cute ass away.

  “God help me,” he muttered.

  “You know it’s not Harry you have to worry about.”

  “Holy fuck!” Once more in the span of less than five minutes, Trey jumped out of his own skin.

  Val gave him a self-satisfied look. “It’s Lucien,” he continued, as if he and Trey had been having a conversation. “He might appear mild-mannered, but he’d gut you like a fish if he could read your thoughts right now.”