by R Phoenix
“C’mon, please,” Kolt moaned.
Bryce finally withdrew his fingers, and replaced them with the head of his hard, slick cock. Kolt’s hand slid over his shoulders, drawing him down and into a tight embrace just as he pushed his erection inside of that more-than-willing body. Kolt’s back arched and for a blissful, hot minute, they were pressed so close together that Bryce had a hard time differentiating between what was his and what was Kolt’s — emotionally, physically, mentally.
He fucked him a little harder than he might anyone else, thrusting in with a sharp snap of his hips that left the incubus moaning and writhing against him. Kolt was amazing, but a good fuck for the incubus meant Bryce had nail marks down his back. The faster that snap of his hips was, the harder those fingers and nails dug into his back. He had to admit the edge it gave was hot, and it encouraged him to fuck a little harder, a little faster, to earn those fucking stripes.
He could feel it when Kolt fed. It was always strange, and he felt it then too, as their bodies and emotions seemed to merge. There was a pull as pleasure and lust coalesced, and he could see it in Kolt’s face. His expression went positively wanton, as he arched against him more.
Bryce’s hips jerked as he climaxed. All he felt was the heat and tightness of Kolt around his cock, those fingers digging into his back to leave their marks. Kolt’s moans were drowned out by his own until he pressed a sloppy kiss against Kolt’s lips and silenced them both.
Kolt’s hips ground up against his own, drawing the climax out longer, until Bryce sagged bonelessly against the incubus. He buried his face into the crook of Kolt’s neck, breathing hard. He could feel Kolt’s chest rise and fall quickly under him, and he was aware the incubus hadn’t gotten his yet.
He felt more lethargic than usual, and he couldn’t bring himself to reach for Kolt’s cock. He couldn’t do much of anything, and before he knew it, he was deep asleep.
He woke with a start. He felt in his bones that it hadn’t been long, but he still half-expected Kolt to be gone. The smaller man was snuggled comfortably under his arm, however. Bryce groaned and rolled over onto his back.
“You can’t keep this up,” Kolt said softly.
Bryce glanced at him. “Guys sleep after sex,” he muttered, but he did have a headache, which he knew was Kolt’s doing.
“Bryce,” Kolt implored, pushing up on one elbow. “Please let me go back to him,” he said softly, and it felt like a kick in the balls.
“Why?” he asked. “We can figure this out.” He was starting to feel like a broken record.
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think there’s anything to figure out, Bryce. I can’t help you with your investigation. I don’t know anything. I’m a slave, a pet. I look pretty and distract people,” Kolt said, resting a hand on Bryce’s chest. “And I was good when I was with him. I didn’t kill anyone. I … I always kill people when I’m alone. You said it yourself. He cares about me. He’ll take care of me again. I know he will,” Kolt murmured, casting him an imploring look.
“You killed people because he—” Bryce began.
Kolt cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. “I killed before, Bryce, before Leandro. It’s why I signed the contract. He’s been covering for me for years. I owe him my life,” Kolt explained, and he looked fucking hopeful.
Bryce hated that look, and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see it. He didn’t want to think of Kolt that way. “You’re not a killer, Kolt. You’re not,” he said, shaking his head and glancing up at Kolt.
The incubus looked at him for a long moment before also shaking his head. “See?” Kolt said softly, barely above a whisper. “You’re not in love with me. You’re obsessed with me. You think I can’t do anything wrong, even when I tell you I’ve killed people.”
Bryce shook his head, still, not wanting to believe it, even if that was proving Kolt’s point. “No,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll work this out, okay?”
“Emma is right, Bryce. About a lot of it. I can’t just be out alone. I… I want to go back to Lee. Please?” he begged, sitting up a little straighter, and using those fucking blue eyes on him like a goddamn weapon.
“No. I’m not going to be party to this,” he said stubbornly.
“You don’t have to be. I can get myself there. I just— I will miss you,” Kolt murmured softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips.
Bryce’s hand reached for the back of Kolt’s neck, holding him close for a moment as he looked up at him. “Stay. Don’t do this,” he implored. “You’re worth more than that.”
“You say you care about me,” Kolt started.
Something angry made itself master of Bryce. “I do care about you. No matter what you say, I care,” he said defensively.
“Then why won’t you respect my choice? It’s the right one, even if it leaves you high and dry,” Kolt said.
Bryce froze, his hand not moving. He searched Kolt’s eyes for the truth, wishing for a minute that he could tell truth from lies, like a fae. “It doesn’t just leave me high and dry, Kolt. You’re going to go back to that tyrant?” he asked sharply.
Kolt took his wrist, moving his hand away from his neck. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s an asshole, and he’s made mistakes, but—” He shrugged. “He has always cared well for me. I’ve rarely gone wanting for anything. He protects me,” Kolt continued, and Bryce saw him swallow hard.
He did too then. “Kolt,” he said, wanting to argue, wanting to tell him he was insane. “Just reconsider. Please? If this is about feeding, it’s—”
“It’s not,” Kolt cut in, taking his hand. “I’m tired, miserable, lonely, and scared all the time. I want to live without being terrified of hurting someone. I can only do that if I—”
“Go back,” Bryce finished for him with a deep sigh. He dropped his head back on the pillow and rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired too. He didn’t have the energy to argue all night about this. Kolt should’ve just seen reason. “Are you sure?” Bryce heard himself ask, and he peered at the incubus.
Kolt considered but nodded slowly. “I can’t keep doing this to you, to everyone… I know we’ve made mistakes, but Lee will take care of me. He always has. You’ll see,” Kolt answered.
“I’ll drive you,” Bryce said softly. His mouth was dry, and his heart sank as he said the words. Part of him wanted to scream at Kolt not to fucking do this. Part of him wanted to lock him up so he wouldn’t ever leave.
“Thank you,” Kolt answered, and his smile was something else — warm, sweet, relieved.
Fuck.
Suddenly, it seemed like Kolt didn’t need to pack nearly as much stuff anymore. It all fit into the pockets of the oversized parka that Bryce had given him for when it was cold. He looked young, wearing it and sitting in the passenger seat of his car.
The incubus’ eyes were impossibly bright with the many lights of the Lucky Blight’s exterior reflected in them.
“You’re sure about this, Kolt?” Bryce asked one more time.
Kolt swallowed but nodded. “Yeah. I miss him. I miss being with him.”
Bryce wasn’t sure which of those two was a lie, but one of them had to be.
“Are you sure?” Kolt asked him in turn.
Bryce wet his lips, looking at the casino entrance. “No,” he admitted with a shake of his head.
“I know it fucks up your whole case, and—” Kolt began.
Bryce scoffed, shaking his head. “Fuck the case,” he muttered. “No. I’m just not sure, Kolt. If you go back in there now, the Organization will see it as a choice. I won’t be able to come get you again,” he warned.
H was more concerned that Gideon would gut him, because the man had taken some serious risks to get Kolt out too, than he was about the Organization.
“Probably not, no,” Kolt agreed. “But you’ll be too busy explaining why you let your star witness go anyway.”
Bryce smirked and glanced at him. “Maybe I’ll just defect to Russia, o
r North Korea, or something. Leave the country… Probably safer,” Bryce said, and he wasn’t so sure it was really a joke. He wasn’t making many friends lately.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” Kolt promised.
Bryce felt a tug at his heart. It was a lie, and he knew that. There were very few things that could stop Leandro, and Kolt wasn’t one of them. But if anyone would give it a good go, it would be the incubus.
Unfortunately, it still wasn’t Leandro he was worried about.
“Go,” Bryce said. “Before I change my mind and knock you unconscious and drag you back with me.” He reached for a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard, only to find it empty and giving him nothing to distract himself with.
“Thank you,” Kolt said softly. Without a final kiss, or even a hug, the incubus opened the car door and got out.
Bryce watched him as he crossed the parking lot, looking ridiculous in that coat. He stayed where he was, even when Kolt entered the casino and vanished from his sight, just in case the incubus cane running back out, like in the movies. He’d confess he’d made a terrible mistake, that he had misjudged Leandro, and Bryce had been right all along.
He could picture it so vividly in his mind’s eye that he was convinced he was seeing the future. But minutes passed, and nothing changed. The casino’s lights continued to blink at him. People continued to come and go. Cars drove up and parked, and they reversed out of spots to leave.
The whole world seemed to just go on as normal, as if everything hadn’t just shifted and several lives hadn’t been altered for good.
Leandro would get exactly what he wanted. Kolt — Bryce wanted to believe — would go back to his old life, but more appreciated. Gideon would never have to deal with him again, and he—
Reflexively, he reached for the pack of cigarettes again, already having forgotten the pack was empty. His fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel as minutes ticked by slowly. The songs on the radio changed, and he heard the traffic information — twice, meaning he had been there for an hour already.
The clock confirmed it, and he reached forward, checking the glove box for more cigarettes, but there weren’t any there either. Just a lighter, and his backup weapon locked in its holster. He stared at it a moment as he considered that it would soon be his only gun. They would take his service weapon along with his badge once this got out, then he’d be stuck in another endless cycle of legalities, hearings and internal affairs, and advisory board meetings, hearings from his lawyer…
He’d fucked up good again his time, and to imagine sending him to the Organization was already a form of punishment made him sigh. It had been a last chance at redemption for his less than stellar career as a cop and a detective. They wouldn’t let something like this slip through their fingers, not with as many bodies as they were trying to process. There was no covering this up.
He hadn’t told Kolt as much, but letting him go meant there was no turning back for him either. His career was over. He would soon be unemployed, or worse, sentenced for his crimes. As soon as he left the parking lot of the Lucky Blight, his life would be over.
He unholstered the gun, running his fingers over the cold metal, as he put the holster aside on the passenger seat. Bryce looked up at the casino once more, but there still wasn’t an incubus running back out of it.
He checked to see if there was still a bullet in the chamber — and there was, from the last time he’d believed his life was over, and he had considered putting the gun between his teeth.
Just like now.
Different parking lot though, and this one came with the added benefit that he’d leave Leandro with a lot of explaining to do. Maybe Emma would even go above the call of duty and try to pin the death of an officer on the fae. It had potential, as far as suicide plans went, anyway.
There was a knock on his window, and Bryce startled. The image of losing his dick because he accidentally fired his gun in an unguarded moment flashed before his eyes as he looked up.
It wasn’t Kolt. It wasn’t even anyone he knew, just some millennial gesturing for him to wind the window down. He pushed the button to do just that, and he frowned at the man.
“Hey, man,” the guy said. “You got a light?” he asked, holding up his cigarette.
Bryce blinked for a long moment, until the moment turned supremely awkward. “Oh, yeah. Actually. I do.” he said, leaning forward again for the glove box and taking the lighter out. “Can I get one off of you then?” he asked, gesturing at the man’s cigarettes.
He was offered one, and he gladly took it, lighting it up before handing his lighter to the man standing next to his car.
He supposed he’d take the slower death over the quicker one and see how long it took the bureaucrats to figure out what to do with him this time.
.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Leandro wasn’t sulking.
He wasn’t tired either. He was pissed, but he was hiding it well. He was only on the casino floor so no one would think he was weak. He wasn’t, and he would remind everyone of it if they gave him the slightest chance.
Yet he found himself behind the velvet ropes, alone in the VIP section of the casino. He held his phone in one hand and his drink in the other, obsessively checking for messages from the lawyers. They were taking far too long, and it was … irritating.
Was that a human emotion? He looked up while he considered the notion, his gaze falling upon someone taking advantage of Darcy’s blind spot. The man — boy, really — slipped past her and sidestepped the velvet ropes into the private area.
Interesting. Annoying, but interesting.
He lowered his phone, placing it beside him on the sofa, and he took another sip from his drink as he met the young man’s eyes. He was handsome, looking as though he might belong in a boy band if it wasn’t for the ill-fitting jeans and shirt. Short black hair and light blue eyes complemented a lanky but graceful form that might have belonged to a dancer. He could see how some with less refined tastes might find him attractive.
“You are not supposed to be here,” Leandro said. He would be the perfect one to make an example out of tonight.
“Sir—” Gideon began to interrupt.
Leandro wasn’t about to let him ruin his fun once more; the nephilim was becoming a cock block. “Leave it, Gideon,” he snapped icily. He looked past the young man to fix a warning look upon his second-in-command, who froze and looked strangely perturbed.
The young man was fearless, walking right up to him — like an unsuspecting zebra approaching the watering hole where the crocodile lurked. His uninvited guest took a sip from the drink he was holding, and Leandro noted that it was… his drink. Or rather, the type of drink he’d had in his own nearly finished glass.
“Why are you here?” Leandro prompted. He flicked his wrist, letting a breeze stir as the space between them shrank further.
The young man went down on his knees before him, one hand on his knee unasked, and the other… Wordlessly, ignoring all his questions, the man swapped the old glass for the new one.
Leandro stared, even as his anger rose at the audacity of people. Had they so little respect for him? “Answer me, you little—” he started, but to his astonishment, the man pushed his knees apart, “whore!” he finished with a sharp hiss. He grabbed the throat of the audacious quim.
“I belong here…” the long-anticipated answer finally came, spoken too coolly — too steadfast, too certain.
Leandro’s teeth gritted together, and he stared down into the blue eyes of the creature now between his legs. No one belonged there. No one but—
His breath caught as the notion popped into his head. His hand flexed around that slender throat, and the pulse raced in the vein beneath his fingers. “Kol’tso?” he asked, his grasp tightening more as he studied those eyes.
Kolt’so.
He glanced sharply aside at Gideon, who nodded silently. How had he known? How had the nephilim been able to recognize the incubus when h
e couldn’t? They’d be having a discussion about that later, to be sure.
His fingers loosened slightly, and he stared into the creature’s unfamiliar eyes. Because that was what he was now, a creature. His hair short — even shorter than it had been — and his face rounder now, different. It was all different.
Kolt said nothing, not even when Leandro abandoned his drink on the armrest of the sofa and grabbed for his hair with his other hand. He brushed the dark hair out of the incubus’ face, frowning as he tried to process and come up with the correct response.
“I’ve missed you,” Kolt said, so softly that the words were rendered almost inaudible.
Leandro was torn between vicious satisfaction and terrible rage. His voice was little more than a snarl as he replied, “That didn’t stop you from crawling into someone else’s bed until you were turned into… this.”
“I’m sorry,” Kolt answered swiftly, looking down for the first time. “I was wrong. I should never have left.”
Leandro’s breaths were coming a little too fast, like he was human, like he was some pathetic thing like the one kneeling before him. He could sense the truth in those words, and he greedily drank them in. He’d wanted to hear them, and now…
He twisted his fingers in Kolt’s — how could he even think of this being as his Kolt? It nearly made him sick — hair, yanking him up and against him until their lips were almost touching.
But he couldn’t bring himself to kiss this, even to reclaim what was rightfully his. “And how,” he murmured against Kolt’s lips, “do I know the Organization isn’t trying to trick me?”
The incubus’ hands were on his chest, while his legs still tried to find purchase and take the strain of the grip on his hair, undoubtedly. “They— they don’t even know I’m here. Just your pet detective. He brought me here.”
