Crimson Ties

by V L Moon

  Through narrowed eyes, he scanned Vischeral’s face for any sign of pain. When the sardonic smile only widened, he threw caution to the wind and slipped around to the back of the Hummer. From the survival kit stored there, he pulled out a light Kevlar blanket. Opening it up as he walked back towards his partner, Copi raised a brow.

  “Oh, this isn’t for you so you can wipe that stupid grin off your face,” he said as he continued around to the other side of the vehicle. He slipped the blanket over the passenger seat and bit back a chuckle at Vischeral’s grunt.

  “Get you’re sorry looking ass into the seat before that—whatever the fuck it was, mutant wolf smells all that blood and comes back for dessert.” He watched nonplussed as Vischeral painlessly slipped into the seat. How the fuck was he even walking? No motherfucker, however tough they were, should be able to tolerate the level of pain his partner should be feeling. So why wasn’t Vischeral screaming like a bitch? Copi knew one thing for sure; if Vischeral hadn’t turned up when he had, there was no way in fucking hell he would have gotten out of tonight’s little rendezvous alive.

  Clicking his seat belt into place, he mumbled to Vischeral, “Try not to bleed out on me. I’ve just had this baby detailed.”

  “No worries, partner. I think the bleeding has pretty much stopped.” Vischeral’s dry tone lacked any hint of pain, only certainty. Copi cast a quick glance at a very still Vischeral Bourne as he put the Hummer in gear. He hit the gas and tore out of the unlit parking lot. As the lights of downtown diminished into the blackness of night, Copi found he was acutely aware of his partner and more than a little bit paranoid about being followed. Repeatedly, he checked the rear view mirror half expecting to see the dark shadow of the wolf on their heels. Adding strength to his paranoia, Vischeral sat deathly silent and still next to him. Copi’s nerves wound tighter than a nun’s knickers as they sped toward Bourne’s home.

  Relief washed through him when he pulled into Vischeral’s drive. Copi killed the engine. He couldn’t wait to breathe in the Alaskan night air and rid his brain of Vischeral’s intoxicating scent. As they approached the front door, Vischeral slowed.

  “Seems as you’ve a knack for breaking and entering, you want to let yourself in?” he asked. Copi flipped him the bird.

  “Fuck you and then some,” he grumbled. “I thought you’d been drugged.” His partner gave him a funny look before clicking the lock open and letting them inside. Vischeral went straight for the bar and the row of hard liquor. When he broke the seal on a fresh bottle of scotch, Copi followed suit and helped himself to the half empty bottle of Jack. A strange twist of jealousy worked through his gut as he wondered who Vischeral brought to his home that drank the amber liquid Copi favored.

  Scolding himself, he swallowed the first straight hit. His nerves settled with each inch the warming effects of the Jack traveled down his throat. He turned to find Vischeral seated on the couch, elbows on knees and the glass dangling from his fingers. His face showed no pain from the garish wounds on his torso. The lack of pain worried Copi,

  “Are you sure you don’t want a medic? I think you’re in shock,” he ventured.

  Vischeral rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “I’ve had worse, all of it will heal.” His casual disregard for the injuries enflamed Copi’s temper.

  “Fine, have it your way. I’d take a good slug of that scotch, you stubborn assed son of a bitch because this is going to hurt. Bathroom? Where is it again?” He asked.

  “I think you need to polish those detective skills partner, or didn’t you do the full tour again this afternoon when you popped over?” Vischeral drawled before knocking back another gulp of his drink.

  “You can go to Hell. I told you why,” Copi huffed. “Now tell me where the fuck the first aid kit is.” He followed the direction of Vischeral’s pointing finger and made his way down the hall into the huge bathroom. Plush but not overdone, the bathroom reeked of elegance. The sunken tub looked big enough for at least four people. Copi’s mind somersaulted. His pulse rate soared. Visions of Vischeral wet, naked and soaking in that tub with Copi’s hands smoothing over every little indention of his firm ripped abs tortured him. Sweet Heaven help him, his partner was smoking hot—and hurt. With a curse, he dug under the sink for the kit.

  Too late. Copi’s body, more than receptive to the visual playing in his head, responded big time. His cock stiffened and stretched, painfully throbbing with the need to release. All too quickly, his arousal tented his jeans. Fucking hell! Aroused beyond reason, Copi tried to divert his attention anywhere. But, the very air around him was permeated by the seductive aroma of his partner’s rich scent. It made it near fucking impossible to stop the fire growing in his loins. More than pissed by his throbbing dick, Copi wrestled with the kit and tried to pull his sweater down over the bulge, hoping it might hide his glaringly large predicament.

  He didn’t hear or see Vischeral until the heat of his partner’s hard toned flesh came flush up against his back. Oh. Shit.

  “You were taking so long, I wasn’t sure if you could find it.” Vischeral’s large hands smoothed up the length of Copi’s arms. Innocently enough, but to Copi, it damn near had him coming right there in his partner’s bathroom. He swallowed hard and berated himself for his sexual weakness for his partner. Embarrassment flared within, turning his face a ruddy shade of red. His back stiffened and his breathing deepened when Vischeral’s breath on his neck sent a searing river of fire down to the twitching length in his pants.

  Coughing to clear his throat, Copi cursed. “Jesus Christ! Don’t you ever fucking knock?”

  “Not usually when I’m in my own house. Besides, the door was open.” Vischeral replied with a low resonating growl.

  Frozen to the spot, Copi offered up a silent prayer that Vischeral kept his gaze firmly above the waist. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward, away from the soothing draw of Vischeral’s wrecked body. He leaned flush against the sink, hiding the strain of his arousal. When Vischeral moved alongside him, the hairs that ran down the length of his neck stood on end. A shiver of pure bliss shot through to the broad swollen head of his cock. Unintentionally, Copi groaned and hung his head. Why the hell did this always have to happen around the God damned man?

  The sound of the shower and its jets of steaming water brought Copi back to the present. The sight of Vischeral in all of his naked glory stopped the breath dead in Copi’s chest. Desperately, he fought to tear his gaze away from Vischeral’s God like body, but it proved harder than he thought. His partner moved slowly, almost sensuously, and if Copi didn’t know better, he’d swear the bastard was purposely taunting him with the sight of his stunningly ripped physique. It worked. Copi stared transfixed as Vischeral soaped up and washed the remnants of blood and tissue from the wounds across his body.

  Copi’s hands shook as he tried in vain to thread the suture needle. His eyes constantly darted to the body enveloped in mist and soap suds. The straining bulge in his trousers screamed at him to release the zipper. He felt the moist tip leaking with desire in response to the show before him. If Copi didn’t get his shit together, he was in danger of shooting his load without his dick being touched.

  “I can’t reach my back. Can you check it?” Vischeral called over his shoulder. Copi nearly swallowed his tongue. With shaking hands, he laid the needle and thread on the counter of the sink. He turned to see the shower door open and hot water streaming down his partner’s mangled back and perfect ass.

  “Yeah,” he answered when he managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He crossed the short distance separating them. Back Copi. Check his back. Lightly, he ran his fingers over the torn flesh paying meticulous attention to debris that lingered. Beneath his touch, the flesh was warm and firm. “All clear, but you’ll definitely need a tetanus shot,” he finally said voice strangled. He backed away hastily and snatched up the suturing needle.

  The water shut off seconds later and was followed by a cloud of heated steam blowing acros
s his already flushed skin. Captivated, he stared as Visceral closed the gap between them. His eyes raked over the wounds on his partner’s sides and shoulder. Fresh blood drawn by the warm water rose in droplets to the surface of his flesh. Grabbing the bottle of iodine and squares of clean fresh gauze, Copi forced a grin.

  “This might sting a little,” he drawled sardonically. He poured the disinfectant solution on the pads and held it firmly to the fleshy wounds on Vischeral’s shoulder. The lack of reaction from Vischeral pissed Copi off. “Don’t you feel anything? Anything at all? Jesus wept, it’s like your numb from the fucking neck down, you miserable son of a bitch.”

  The lush lips firmed and then parted, but Vischeral failed to respond. Copi’s gaze dropped slightly. Fighting not to look lower, he studied the deep gouges ripped into Vischeral’s sides before swinging his gaze back up to meet his partner’s vacant black stare. He locked gazes with Vischeral. Was the big bastard holding his breath? Good, he hoped the fucker was as affected as he was by their closeness.

  He returned his attention to the wounds, but his fingers shook from the contact with Vischeral’s shredded skin. Better wait on the needle and thread routine. He probed the wound slightly; his brow furrowed and he went still. With one hand firmly planted against the broad expanse of Vischeral’s chest, the realization of the danger they both faced slowly dawned. His gaze rose again to meet his partner’s glare. He spoke, barely above a whisper.

  “The wounds look the same; the same as Clara’s and all of the other victims’ injuries. It’s not a serial killer we’re chasing; it’s that thing we saw tonight. That fucking mutant wolf. “Holding Vischeral’s gaze, he waited for his partner’s shocked reaction. The lack of any semblance of shock or emotion on Vischeral’s face told Copi all he needed to know.

  “You motherfucker! You knew. You’ve fucking known all along, and you never bothered to tell me. Damn it Vish, that thing could have killed me—us, tonight. You’re still trying to keep me in the God damned dark, you son of a bitch. You’re no fucking better than the rest of them.” Furious at Vischeral’s lack of trust and his refusal to involve him in the case, Copi turned on his heels. “Sew yourself up. It’s apparent you prefer to work alone anyway.”

  Vischeral’s huge hands clamped down on Copi's shoulders and in one fluid, swift movement, he drew Copi’s back flush against the hardness of his chest. Copi’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. His pulse raced to match the same rhythm beating against his back. Dazed, he stood still as Vischeral’s hands slid down over his pecs. That amazing lush mouth, soft and warm, swept over the fleshy lobe of Copi’s ear. Despite his anger, he felt himself relax into his partner’s strong embrace. Vischeral’s warning growl resonated low and thick, fuelled by anger.

  “New fucking rules, detective. You are staying with me.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Naked and damp in his own bathroom with Copi’s warm delicious body pressed against him, Vischeral struggled with his hunger and his lust. His pronouncement hung in the air between them. No matter what Copi wanted, he was not leaving Vischeral's house. End. Of. Argument.

  Vischeral waited for the explosion. Copi’s denial. Silence rang in the room. Under his palm, Copi’s heart raced. He heard the agitated unsteady breath, smelled the thick, sweet perfume of Copi’s arousal. His body responded in defiance of his normally iron clad will. His shaft swelled and lengthened to press against the cleft of Copi’s ass. Vischeral dared not move.

  Already on the edge of sanity after having Copi’s hands roaming over him while cleaning his wounds, Vischeral’s resolve hung precariously in the balance. To make matters worse, the two kisses they’d shared flared in his memory, causing him to groan. His heart actually ached that Copi didn’t have those memories—memories erased to protect Vischeral’s secret. His head fell forward allowing his forehead to rest against Copi’s hair. He breathed in the male's scent, resigned to the fact Copi's fragrance alone could soothe his savage nature. Still, Copi remained silent though his scent grew stronger by the second. Vischeral tried, but found he couldn’t release the male.

  “Fuck,” he whispered softly, his fingers splaying over Copi’s powerful chest. It was a dangerous move, keeping Copi at his house, but, letting the male return to his own home when the killer knew who he was; so fucking not happening.

  “Copi.”

  “Vischeral.”

  They spoke at the same time and Vischeral stopped. His name on Copi’s lips sent shivers of need washing down his spine.

  “I…,” Copi started, but Vischeral interrupted.

  “Will be staying here, partner.” Raising his head, he met Copi’s eyes in the mirror over the sink. A match to his own lust danced in Copi’s amber orbs. Lost in the moment, he slid his hands back up to Copi’s shoulders and with only a slight hesitation, turned the male to face him. Their gazes collided. Faced with his partner’s tempting full mouth and the haunting need in his eyes, Vischeral could no longer resist. The other detective read his intentions clearly and didn’t’ back away.

  His right hand slid up Copi’s neck. Fingers tunneled into soft hairband clenched, fisting the thick strands mere seconds before his mouth crashed down to claim Copi’s mouth. Mutual groans of need filled the steamy space. Copi’s hands landed on his hips and tugged him forward. The thin barrier of his partner’s jeans provided little barrier to their engorged and straining cocks. Copi’s hips surged forward rubbing their dicks together through the material. Vischeral’s breath caught as his desire flamed white hot. Never had he wanted anyone the way he wanted this male.

  He pulled back just enough to lick the seam of Copi’s lips. “Open,” he demanded and growled his pleasure when Copi complied. His tongue darted out licking along Copi’s parted lips before delving inside to devour his partner's essence. Copi's own dark chocolate and hazelnut flavor mixed with the Jack Daniels he'd swallowed earlier, a heady mind-bending combination. While their tongues continued their teasing foreplay, Vischeral’s hands wandered Copi’s body. The jeans and sweater frustrated Vischeral’s need to feel the heated flesh beneath. On the verge of ripping the sweater in two, he found the hem. Eager hands slipped underneath.

  Warm, hard male flesh jumped under his fingertips as he worked the sweater up, exposing Copi’s taut well-muscled torso. Their mouths separated allowing Vischeral to tug the sweater up and over Copi’s head. Chest to chest, Vischeral ran his mouth along Copi’s jaw. The male’s stubbled cheek grazed his sensitive lips. Sweet Christ, the sensation curled his toes into the plush carpet. Copi's lips skated along Vischeral's skin, a reciprocal path of electrifying sensation. Giving himself over to the moment, he reveled in the way his body responded to Copi.

  An incessant ringing brought him growling and frustrated back to awareness. The sexual fog slowly dissipated. His cell was ringing. Somewhere. Had to be the station, the only other person with the number was plastered against him. Vischeral glanced in the mirror and grimaced. He clutched Copi to his chest like a pagan offering. He stood poised to strike, fangs extended, his body coiled and ready. Copi pressed flush against him with his mouth locked on Vischeral’s neck, suckling hard and marking his flesh. His partner’s hands were locked on Vischeral’s ass in a death grip.

  What the fuck was he doing? Copi was his partner. Where was his fucking control? Even as Vischeral castigated himself, his arms remained locked around Copi. He fucking could not let the male go. Copi must have sensed the change. He eased back, amber eyes heavy and hooded, lips swollen from Vischeral’s savage attention. Need pounded its way through Vischeral’s system. Centuries had passed since he’d allowed himself to revel in another’s touch; and never had a touch been as glorious as Copi’s hands on him.

  Heart heavy and world weary, Vischeral knew he had to take the memories once again, along with the memories of his injuries. Being human, Copi would wonder how they healed so quickly. Given the amount of blood he’d ingested prior to the fight, they would be gone when he woke. Raising his hand, he stroked Copi’s cheek,
a tender caress more telling of his feelings than he liked, but one he couldn’t resist.

  “I’m sorry, Copi,” he murmured while bringing his hand up beside the male’s temple.

  ~*~*~*~

  The feather light brush of Vischeral's fingers caressing his face brought Copi's heart to a stop. He turned his face into his partner's touch. A soft moan of pleasure, almost a purr, escaped in a slow exhale from slightly parted lips. He wanted this—hell he wanted it all. Vischeral invaded every aspect of his life. No amount of cold turkey would ever rid him of the addiction he felt for the male holding him in a vice like grip.

  The pounding beat of both of their hearts echoed around them. Fear stirred in Copi's mind. His eyes opened to meet Vischeral's troubled stare, and for the briefest of moments, pain like nothing he’d ever witnessed registered in his partner's eyes. Vischeral's breath seared against his neck. The words he whispered seemed so heartfelt and meaningful. For a second, everything felt complete.

  Copi's heart soared, swelling within his chest. The rush of blood pounded in his ears; he couldn’t move, didn't want to. All he aspired to have faced him now, holding him in a way Copi had only ever dreamed was possible.

  “I'm sorry.” The words licked over his skin, bathing him in the erotic undertones of Vischeral's dark charm. Copi guessed what came next. His grip tightened around Vischeral's waist and drew him in closer. With their bodies joined top to toe, Copi ran his nose over the smooth line of Vischeral's prominent jaw. He didn't stop there. He brushed along his cheek until his lips stroked over the fullness of Vischeral's needy mouth. His free hand rose to cover his partner's fingers where they rested on his face.