The Witchstone Amulet

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The Witchstone Amulet Page 22

by Mason Thomas


  “Your belongs. From the other chamber.”

  Hunter stepped into the room, dropped the boots, and tossed the damp tunic over the back of a chair. Of course, Dax could have simply dropped the sack on the bed and left, or had it delivered in the morning. But he chose to bring it himself, and then wait for him. Dax’s expression, as always, was unreadable, giving Hunter no indication as to why he was really here. “Thanks,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

  Dax lifted a dark glass bottle from the floor by his feet. “Brought this as well.” Gripping the bottle by the long neck, he rose to his feet. “The same batch as the other night. You seemed to enjoy it.”

  As Hunter took the bottle, their hands brushed—and contact with Dax’s skin sent a jolt through his body. He struggled to pull a breath into his constricted lungs and tightened his fist on the bottle’s neck to stop his hand from shaking. His insides quivered.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Thought you could use it,” Dax said. “After today. Numb the pain.”

  He had cleaned up as well, and Hunter caught the warm scent of something like sandalwood coming off his skin.

  From the weight of the bottle, Hunter could tell half the contents were gone. Dax had been waiting here a little while, it seemed. Hunter pulled out the cork stopper and inhaled the contents, mostly to get Dax’s virile scent out of his head. The sharp aroma lit up his sinuses. He tipped the bottle to his lips and opened his throat. The spirit rushed in, burning momentarily, and Hunter swallowed. He closed his eyes as heat trailed the length of his sternum to settle in his stomach.

  When he opened his eyes, Dax was seated on the bed again. His attention was on the wall, unfocused, his mind elsewhere. Something was different about him tonight. Hunter couldn’t pin down the source. It wasn’t anger. It was something darker.

  Hunter extended his hand with the bottle. It took a moment for Dax to notice before he took it back.

  “I can change your bandages for you, if you like,” Dax said.

  Hunter turned his hand around. The blood had soaked through all the layers now, and it stung when he bent his fingers. He didn’t feel like messing with it tonight. “I’m good.”

  Dax took a long draft, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then propped his elbows on his knees with his eyes on the floor between his feet.

  Hunter sat on the chair with the back of it against his chest, facing him.

  What was Dax doing here?

  Tomorrow, Hunter would be gone from this place forever, and out of Dax’s hair for good. Dax could happily return to his mission without having to worry about Hunter ever again. Hunter would have thought he’d be thrilled. So why was he lingering about?

  Hunter hated to admit it, but he was glad he was here. The notion of never seeing Dax after tonight filled him with a sudden and unexpected pang, and he caught himself not wanting Dax to go anywhere. A part of him knew he should ask him to leave—tell him he was tired and he wanted to go to bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. But also, having him here ached. It felt like someone was poking at a wound.

  This was not like him. He didn’t pine after guys, didn’t get swept up like this. But he caught himself grasping at this moment, relishing this chance to be alone with him, knowing full well Dax didn’t feel the same.

  Why else would he have let Hunter go on believing he was still with Quinnar? He didn’t want to give Hunter any ideas.

  Hunter took the bottle again and let the fiery liquid lave over his tongue. If only he could have remained blissfully ignorant of what it meant to fall for someone. It was terrible, and he never wanted to experience it again.

  Dax reached for the sack on the floor between them. The sack containing his own clothes. Dax set it into his lap, dug inside, and pulled out Hunter’s jeans.

  Seeing them felt like a sharp stab to his heart. Something so ubiquitous back in his world, but here so harshly incongruent. A bitter reminder of how far away he truly was from his home.

  “I was going to let you find this on your own,” Dax said.

  Hunter watched as he slipped his hand into the front pocket. Something about his hand probing inside his jeans made his heart race.

  “But,” Dax continued, “now that I think on it, I’ve no idea how long it would be before you wear these garments again.” He extracted something from the pocket, stood, and presented his open palm to him.

  His mother’s amulet.

  Hunter could only stare at it.

  “Take it,” Dax said.

  Hunter couldn’t move. He’d been chasing after it since he arrived here, but now that it was right in front of him, he was strangely reluctant to take it. “Why now, Dax?”

  “The plan was never going to work. Might as well return it to its true owner.”

  Did Quinnar know Dax was doing this? Hand quivering, Hunter lifted the amulet from Dax’s hand. His fingertips brushed Dax’s palm. The touch sent another jolt through him.

  He curled his fingers around it. It felt weird to hold it again. Almost sad. An exclamation point that everything the two of them had gone through together was for nothing.

  “I take it that this means you’re going through with Quinnar’s plan.”

  Dax frowned. His this doesn’t concern you face. “No decisions have been made.”

  “If it comes up again, you could say no. That’s an option. You know that, right?”

  Dax didn’t reply. He instead took the bottle again and lifted it to his lips. He held there. A heavy shot that would have left Hunter sputtering and choking. Dax eventually let the bottle lower with a gasp as if emerging from underwater, then set it down on the end table with a decisive thump.

  In a flash of movement, Dax closed the distance between them. Before Hunter could process what was happening, Dax slid a hand behind Hunter’s neck. And then his lips were pressed to his mouth.

  Hunter’s heart sprang into his throat. He flinched and gasped a startled breath, tasting Dax’s scent. His brain rolled over in his skull. He had no idea why this was happening and struggled to accept that it was. But his body was way ahead of his brain and responded on impulse. Hot euphoria pulsed through him in a scorching wave. Dax’s lips were warm and soft, but his beard sweetly scoured the sensitive edges of Hunter’s mouth.

  But something about it felt wrong.

  It felt desperate. Frantic.

  Hunter put his hands on Dax’s shoulder and pulled away from him. The sensation of the kiss was still hot on his lips.

  “Dax….”

  “Don’t,” Dax replied in a low voice that was almost a growl. “Don’t say anything.”

  There were a thousand things he wanted to say. A thousand more he knew he should say. The liquor had kicked in, and his head was swimming. He couldn’t get his brain to form any words.

  Dax’s mouth was against his again, the force against his lips almost angry.

  This time, Hunter didn’t have the strength to resist. He closed his eyes as he gave in to it, and his lips parted.

  Dax pushed in harder with a surge of raw hunger. His hands slipped around Hunter’s torso, sliding across the skin and setting the muscles of Hunter’s back alight with fire. The sensation flooded his brain; his head swooned. Dax pulled him in tighter, and his tongue thrust into Hunter’s mouth, plunging deep, and Hunter sucked on the thick muscle to pull it farther into his throat.

  Dax groaned. The vibrations reverberated through Hunter’s chest.

  He coiled a thick arm around Dax and squeezed him tight against him. The muscles of Dax’s back constricted against his touch. Hunter was lost in the taste of Dax’s tongue and the feel of his body against his own. Nothing existed beyond the two of them.

  Dax broke off contact long enough to strip the tunic off over his head and toss it to the floor. Then he plunged back in. Hunter’s skin drank in the feeling of Dax’s chest pressed against him, and a wild surge rushed to his groin.

  Hunter slid his lips to Dax’s
neck under the ear and a groan escaped his throat as salt and sweat delighted his tongue. Dax’s head fell back. The heady aroma of Dax’s skin flooded Hunter’s nostrils and sent dizzying explosions to his head. He cupped Dax’s pec and thumbed his hardened nipple while he glided his other hand down his lower back to dig under the waistline of his pants. Dax palmed the curve of his ass, then a hot finger coaxed its way into the deep cleavage between his cheeks.

  Hunter’s head whirled. He was fully erect now and pointing straight up, wedged between both their bellies. Dax playfully gyrated his hips against it and lifted a knee between his thighs. The head of his cock tingled and pulsated. Hunter’s entire body shuddered, and his knees almost gave out.

  His mind screamed at him to stop, but it felt distant and weak, as if his desire had it chained up in a dark basement somewhere. His body was in control now, and he was powerless against it. He knew he was going to regret it, knew that afterward his heart would punish him.

  This would only make leaving tomorrow more painful.

  He secured his arms around Dax’s frame and lifted him off the ground with little effort. Dax curled a leg around the back of his thigh. Gently, Hunter carried him to the bed and lowered him down to the mattress. While Dax unpeeled himself from Hunter’s body, Hunter hovered over him, drinking in the sight with a lump in his throat.

  A thin smile broke Dax’s face, but it was cool and hungry.

  Dax’s arms stretched over his head, relaxed and waiting. The glorious curves of his torso and biceps made Hunter almost delirious with yearning. Hunter savored the vision a moment before he traced one hand down the length of Dax’s flank, from his armpit to his hip, muscles and ribs pressing against his palm, skin like silk. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, begging to be released.

  He took Dax’s hard nipple into his mouth, flicked it playfully with his tongue before he bit down on it. Dax groaned again and arched his torso. Hunter slipped a hand under him, pressed the small of his back as he explored the hard, spasming muscles of Dax’s abdomen with his lips and tongue. The skin was spiced with sweat, and the scent made the room spin as if he was intoxicated.

  He drifted his hand across Dax’s groin and felt the swollen cock beneath the fabric lift to meet his touch. He explored the shape with his fingers, his thumb gently brushing the round head. Dax pulled in a sudden breath.

  “Get these fucking clothes off me,” Dax breathed.

  Hunter grabbed a leg and braced a booted foot against his bare chest. With deliberate slowness, he undid the laces. Then he pulled off the boot and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. He explored the toes and the arch of Dax’s foot with his tongue, pulling the big toe into his mouth to suck on it as he breathed in the delicious heady scent. Once both boots were on the floor, Hunter loosened the laces crisscrossing Dax’s bulging crotch, and when Dax lifted his hips, Hunter used two hands to rip the trousers away.

  The unprecedented beauty of Dax’s nude form made Hunter forget everything. His form was something divine. A godlike beauty. Proportioned with such transcendent perfection it almost hurt to look at it. His skin caught the lamplight like burnished copper, and the assortment of scars only accentuated its succulence. Dax’s cock was no exception—a sublime testament of his potency. Thick and exquisitely formed, it rested against his belly, inviting Hunter in.

  Dax slid his foot up the mattress, raising his knee. “What are you waiting for, dolt?”

  Hunter allowed his own trousers to drop to the floor.

  As if wielding the most precious of relics, he cradled Dax’s sac in his hands, let his fingers massage the slightly tightened skin. Hunter brought his fingers to the base of the shaft, which throbbed in anticipation of what was to come. He curled his fingers around it—felt his heart race with the thrill of it in his palm. Dax exhaled and pushed up his chin.

  Hunter let his eyes take in Dax’s perfect yet squirming form while his hand slowly slid up the length of his cock. He wanted to devour every inch of his body—but he forced himself to keep it slow. When Hunter’s hand drew close to the head, Dax’s shoulders shuddered and he let out a soft moan. A gush of clear fluid oozed from the slit and beaded on the side.

  Still gripping the hard shaft, Hunter slid Dax’s leg up and ran his tongue in the crevice between his inner thigh and sac. More fluid seeped down the side of his cock and drizzled over Hunter’s finger. Hunter ran his tongue over the finger and up the side, lapping up the clear juice like melting ice cream running down a cone. Sweet exploded on his tongue.

  Then he took his shaft into his mouth.

  Inhaling through his nose, he tightened his eyes and allowed all of Dax to enter his throat until Hunter felt his lips reach the bottom and the pubic hair tickle under his nose. Dax cried out, and his entire body spasmed as if shocked. Hunter’s mouth was filled to capacity, his jaw stretched to its limit. Dax throbbed against the sides of his throat. Hunter tightened his lips around the shaft, pulled back and slid off of it—then sank down onto it again.

  Dax began to squirm his hips about and groan louder. Fingers twisted in Hunter’s hair, and he was tugged downward again and held there. The gyrating of his hips increased, and his back arched. With Dax’s sac still in his hand, Hunter used his forefinger to explore upward, trace Dax’s opening and massage the skin around it.

  “Stop,” Dax said suddenly, and tried to push Hunter off his cock. Hunter smiled inwardly, feeling the tightening of his ball sac in his hand. “Stop,” Dax cried out again.

  Hunter complied, pulling off his cock with a pop of his lips. He grinned up at Dax.

  “Not yet,” Dax told him. He dropped his head back, panting. “Not yet. My bag. On the floor. Grab it.”

  Hunter reached down and snagged it. He loosened the drawstring and reached inside. A quick search revealed a small earthenware jar with a cork stopper on top. Inside was a white creamy paste. Hunter dragged his forefinger across the top, leaving a trench, and rubbed the material between his fingers. The paste was slick.

  He gave Dax a sideward glance. “You planned this all along.”

  Dax said nothing.

  Again his mind sent off a warning klaxon. But there was no chance of stopping this train now.

  Hunter took in slow breath as he slid his hand back under Dax, who bent his knee to allow Hunter’s slickened forefinger freer access to explore.

  Hunter sat back on his heels and generously applied the white cream over the full length of his cock. It was warm against his skin and as he cupped his hand over the head, his entire body shuddered.

  Dax lifted his hip and pulled a knee back to his chest. Hunter scooped more white cream onto his fingers and gently worked the lubricant into the welcoming hole, first massaging his thumb around the perimeter, then probing inward with his forefinger. Dax’s chin jolted upward and his chest heaved as the finger glided in its full length. Hunter twisted his wrist back and forth, then coaxed his middle finger inside as well. Dax put his heel to Hunter’s collarbone, and a low moan escaped his throat.

  Hunter took his time, working his fingers in and out, turning his hand about until he could feel the muscles around his two fingers begin to relax. Dax’s breathing quickened. He lifted his hips and pushed himself onto Hunter’s fingers with intensifying desire. With one hand, he grabbed Hunter’s forearm to encourage him to thrust harder while the other tugged on himself.

  “Let me,” Hunter whispered, and gently replaced Dax’s hand with his own, curling his fingers around Dax’s thick cock. He gave it a squeeze and slid his grip up and down the shaft. It pulsated against his palm. Dax spasmed against the mattress, helpless. His head thrashed side to side.

  Dax was ready.

  Hunter pulled out his fingers and shifted himself closer. Still stroking Dax, he gripped the base of his own cock and guided it toward Dax’s opening. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard—surges of both pleasure and swollen pain ran through him as he maneuvered the head into position.

  Slow and gentle, he thrust his hi
ps. The head of his cock broke the threshold. Dax took a sudden intake of breath and arched his back. He cried out. Hunter was ready to pull out again, but Dax lifted his hips farther, inviting him in deeper.

  Dax’s tight muscles squeezed around Hunter and sent tingling waves of euphoria through his body. The muscles of his ass and thighs contracted involuntarily. His chin lifted as his lungs pulled in sputtering breaths. He wanted nothing more than to push, but he forced control and only eased in a bit farther. He watched as more of him disappeared inside. Dax cried out again as his fingers tangled within the sheets.

  Hunter forced himself to work slow. He pulled out a little, then drove in even more. Then again. And again. Dax showed no signs of resisting, no sign that Hunter’s girth was too much. So, Hunter gave in to his own desire and thrust his hips until all of him was inside Dax.

  Still massaging Dax’s cock, he fell into a rolling rhythm. His thighs slapped against skin, and Dax roiled and twisted beneath him. Ankles moved to his shoulders as Hunter leaned in. Dax lifted his shoulders to bring his mouth against his. Hunter grunted into Dax’s awaiting mouth, and Dax’s hot breath blasted into his. Hunter’s tender lips burned with the rasp of Dax’s beard.

  Every one of Hunter’s senses was on overload. The musky smell of Dax made his head swim. The salty taste of his sweat was like wine on his tongue. The electric contact of their skin made every muscle convulse. The look in Dax’s eyes as he stared up at him, it was more than his brain could handle, and he was aware of nothing other than the joining between them.

  He was lost in the rhythm. Lost in the desire. His hips rolled against Dax in steady but powerful thrusts. Energy was building in him. Escalating ecstasy coursed through his groin and he felt his sac tighten in anticipation. The sensation rose with sudden intensity, and tremors rocked through him. He was tormented by the promise of what was to come. His face flushed with fever, and sweat cascaded from his brow.

  Dax’s ankles tightened on the side of his neck; his hands clung desperately to Hunter’s back, pulling him closer. He bit down on Hunter’s lip. He felt it too.

 

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