Long Black Cadillac

by BA Tortuga

  Vance framed Clay’s face, forgetting all about monsters and blood and teeth and shit and just kissing the living hell out of the finest man he’d seen in for-fucking-ever. His back hit the slick tile, his ass rubbing it and making him shiver. Clay wasn’t exactly warm along his front, but the water was, so it was all good. Clay’s fingers were on his scars, which was hot and weird and distracting and…. Yeah. Yeah, very fucked. But amazing. And why the hell was he thinking again?

  “Thinking is overrated, honey. Feel me.” His legs spread when Clay pushed between them, and they rocked, both of their cocks sliding on skin.

  He got his hands on Clay’s back, smoothing down along all those fine muscles, rubbing and massaging them, tugging them together. Clay’s mouth slid down his neck. Again. Fixated. That was what the guy was. Just fixated on his throat. His blood.

  Of course, when the kissing started, the soft, sucking touches that made his toes curl? Vance was getting that whole fixation thing.

  The suction went fierce for a half second, Clay pulling up a mark right there. Vance felt the blood rising to the surface, the heat tingling through him. His chin lifted as his hips started moving faster, their cocks rubbing together quick enough to make sparks. God damn.

  “Yeah. Fuck, yes. You feel like nothing else, honey. Nothing.” How long had Clay been alive? How long had he been around to feel shit, and he was saying Vance felt that good?

  Of course, right that second, it didn’t matter because Vance was fucking soaring, their wet skin slapping together something fierce. Moving hard, they sent water flying, slipping and sliding. But Clay had a good stance, had a good hold on him. He had hold of Clay’s ass, knew his fingers had to be leaving bruises, but he couldn’t let up. He didn’t fucking want to.

  Those sharp-as-fuck teeth slid right into his skin, cutting through like he was fragile as glass. The contrast to the way they slammed together was too damned hot. Even if it was biting. The rush was like nothing else, like Clay was tugging the pleasure out of him, out of his belly. It made him hungry, bone-deep.

  “Mmmmmm.” The low growl told him that Clay felt it too. So did that hard cock, which got even harder against him, if that was possible. Clay was hung, and the feel of that cock was another sensation he needed in the worst way.

  The weirdest motherfucking sounds were pouring out of him—he’d be fucking embarrassed if he weren’t fixing to pop like a balloon hitting a flame. Clay pulled away from the bite, holding his lower body even closer, staring right into his eyes as that big body shook and Clay came for him. All over him.

  “Oh, sweet fuck.” His head rolled, the scent of sex enough to make him shake, make his balls draw up so hard they hurt.

  “Now, honey. Right now. Want to feel you come.” All Clay had to do was say it and he was ready to go off like a Roman candle. Boom, fizz, whizz.

  “Right….” Oh yeah. Now. The top of his head felt like it was going to pop off, spunk shooting right out of him.

  “Good. That’s good. Just like that.” Clay licked at his neck, helping ease the tiny wounds that still stung.

  “Uh. Uh-huh.” Oh fuck. Hot. Good. So fucking good.

  “Man, what was it we were gonna do after our shower?” Clay asked, turning him away from the cooling water.

  “Uh….” He blinked, chin rasping against one shoulder. “Probably fight.”

  “You think? Why is that? I mean, what have I ever done to your Colonel, anyway?” Well, that seemed like a more reasonable question now than it had a few days ago.

  They moved out of the tub, both grabbing towels. “Hell if I know, man. I mean, I don’t know that it’s personal.”

  Which it sort of was for him, wasn’t it? Personal, that was.

  “So, what do you do? I mean, you hunt us. Do you even know why?” Clay looked genuinely curious, not a bit of malice in his expression.

  “I only got nasty when they wouldn’t move on, and it was….” He shrugged, thinking about it. He’d been so blank for so fucking long it wasn’t funny. “I was following orders.”

  “A good little soldier…. Come here, honey.” Clay held out that big square hand again, just daring him to take it. “Let me prove we’re not so bad. Not all of us.”

  “It wasn’t like that, man.” His fingers slid between Clay’s like they belonged there. Fuck, it was just wrong, how fucking right that felt. “I’d been fucked-up. I needed a job, and the force didn’t want me anymore.”

  And his scars were…. Yeah. He’d not been on anybody’s short list. Maybe that was why the Colonel had gotten him to do without thinking.

  “I don’t know why. You’re something else, honey. Tough as nails and twice as sharp. You’d be an asset.” Pulling him close, Clay kissed his temple, nuzzling at his wet hair.

  “Mmm.” Listen to him. Humming. Moaning. Jonesing on this. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  “I got you, man. I got you. Come on, let’s go back to bed for a bit.” Clay tugged, but his feet….

  Shit, those vamps really were hedonists. He didn’t think he’d ever spent so much time horizontal.

  “You know how much time is lost sleeping?” Dreaming? Remembering? Shit. He kept being rested and he’d get in more and more trouble.

  “You think anyone knows it better than me? I have to stay in by nature, you know?” Clay kissed him, lifting him to carry him back to the bedroom. Jesus, Clay was strong. Of course, he’d have complained if his mouth hadn’t been busy. Really, you’d think a bloodsucker’s mouth would taste bad. Clay didn’t. Not at all. Fuck.

  And the man had an unerring sense of direction, because they landed on the bed like it had a homing device in it. He moaned and wrapped around Clay, hands flat on the man’s back.

  “Mmm.” Clay settled between his legs, pushing against him, holding him down. It didn’t make for panic or anything. Just heat and yeah and oh, good.

  “I can’t fucking want you again.” But he did. He was loving this, even though it was a very bad idea.

  “Why not? I want you. It’s like a fever.”

  Shit, yeah, that was exactly what it was like. “Are you doing it? Making me….” Want? Ache? Need? Whatthefuckever. He rose up and took a kiss, his toes curling.

  “I’m not doing anything but loving on you,” Clay said against his mouth, hands holding him steady so they could rub and rub.

  “I’m supposed to be….” Oh God. Yeah. He sorta stopped thinking, just moaned a little into Clay’s lips, his body moving without any input from him at all.

  “I know.” That came against his throat, Clay licking the marks there but not biting. How much could he give before he got weak and shit? Hell, he didn’t feel like he was losing blood. He felt better than he had in months.

  Everything in him started tingling, skin going tight wherever Clay was touching. Goddamn. His throat had never been a hot spot.

  Not ever.

  Then again, he’d never fucked a bloodsucker. He learned something new every day.

  Chapter Ten

  CLAY WOKE up late in the day, wondering what day it even was.

  The sun was there, lurking outside the sealed walls. He could feel it. But it was outside, and he was in. With Vance. Jesus fuck, that man was something. Clay had never wanted anything like he wanted Vance. All the damned time. Just thinking about what all they’d gotten up to made his cock twitch.

  Of course, Vance looked worse for wear, bruises blooming on his throat and chest, his face a touch pale under the stubble. Maybe it was time to get him some food.

  Clay rolled out of bed and went to find his phone. He had to plug it in to get it to work, but he finally got it and dialed Remy. Hell, by now Remy would be thinking he was dead. Unless that crazy Cajun had set up watch outside his place.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Hey, boss! Where you been, cher?”

  “Oh, I’ve been kinda… busy.” He grinned, peering at the bed from the front room, barely seeing Vance’s toes. “Can I get you to make another deliv
ery?”

  “Sure ’nough, boss. That wee-bitty scary Frankenstein man still breathing?”

  “Yeah.” Vance wasn’t scary. At least not the way he looked, anyway. He was fucking glorious. “Believe it or not, he’s grown on me.”

  “Like a mold, eh? What y’all need?” Remy chuckled, the sound low and fond, making Clay smile.

  “Something with protein. Maybe some chocolate. Munchies. That kind of shit. I bet he likes beer too, when he unwinds.” Yeah. He’d get Vance some fun shit.

  “Food run, eh? I’m on it. We need to go drinkin’, you and me. You been quiet too long.”

  “Okay, babe. Sure. We’ll go.” Sometime soon. When he figured out this shit with Vance. Hell, that might be awhile.

  “Mm-hmm.” Well, that was too knowing a sound. Good thing Remy clicked off; otherwise he might have had to growl.

  Clay sighed, dropping the phone on the settee and rolling his head on his neck. Maybe he did need to get out more, but Lord, it was tough to leave Vance and worry that the man would run from him. He sure didn’t want to have to hunt that ass down. Vance shifted, tight little ass going up as the man buried his head in the pillows. Goddamn, that was pretty. Especially the pale, fine ass.

  Wandering over as if attached by a string, Clay climbed back into bed, sliding his hands up Vance’s thighs until his thumbs and forefingers caught on the lines between Vance’s legs and ass.

  “Uhn.” Vance’s muscles rippled, toes curling.

  Oh yeah. Much with the pretty.

  “Hey, honey. I was just passing by and I thought, look at that ass….” Bending, Clay massaged those tight muscles, thumbs digging into each cheek, his lips sliding along the small of Vance’s back.

  “I was dreaming.” Vance’s thighs spread, heavy balls swinging.

  “Yeah? What about?” He let one hand move down to cup the sac, rolled them gently in their skin, the scent of Vance fucking making him drool.

  “Fucking. Weird, huh? I usually dream about my scars and shit.” Vance was making the best noises, just slowly rocking and rolling against him.

  “Well, then, it’s a case of unrelenting improvement. You were dreaming about torture last time.” Lord, look at that man. Gently pressing those balls up against Vance’s prick, Clay bent farther and started tonguing Vance’s hole.

  “Oh….” Mmm. Now that was something. Vance’s entire body rippled, the scent of hunger getting stronger, headier. Moaning, Clay licked harder, pressing his tongue inside Vance’s body, needing more. Needing everything. Damn. Vance went up on hands and knees, bucking and pushing back against him, riding his tongue, giving it up for him.

  Jesus, look at that man. Clay got both hands up to hold Vance steady, working that fine body open for him, getting Vance ready. No way was he gonna resist having that amazing ass. No way.

  Words started pouring out—filthy and desperate and hot as all fuck. What a fucking romantic. Hell, he didn’t need any pretty words. He just needed the hottest, tightest place he ever would find. Clay finally surged up on his knees behind Vance and got lined up. The head of his cock pushed right in, just like he was meant to be there. Vance’s head snapped back as that tight ass slid right down along his cock.

  “Oh fuck.” Clay went still, fighting the need to move, because if he went to town like he wanted, he’d fucking rip the man in half. “Vance. Christ.”

  “Uh-huh.” Vance started moving, pushing against him, riding him. That was so not assisting his control.

  “Vance. Honey. I’m. I can’t….” Fuck it. Clay tore into the man, his hips spanking that tight ass for all they were worth. He’d be damned if Vance didn’t crawl up the fucking headboard, bouncing and riding his cock for all it was worth. Strong-willed fucker. Fuck, yes. His whole body went tight, everything in him straining toward Vance, pushing in over and over. So good. So hot.

  “Touch me. Come on, you bastard. I need to….” Vance’s head fell forward, that long, scarred back right there for him.

  Licking a line right up that back, Clay let go with one hand to reach around and pinch at Vance’s nipples. That hard cock would have to wait. He wanted to start at the top.

  “Fucking. Fucking tease.” It got him going, the way those bits of flesh went tight, felt so much, as torn up as they’d been. It was fucking hot.

  “Love the way you feel. So fucking interesting.” And for a guy like him? Boredom was a nightmare existence.

  “You drive me crazy, honey. I swear to God.” The pet name made him grin, along with the drawl that just got worse and worse.

  “It’s mutual.” He finally reached down that scarred-up belly, hunting that thick cock. He could smell it. Now he wanted to feel it. Feel it jerk when he sucked up a mark on one shoulder.

  “No more biting, man.” Uh-huh. Vance’s cock jerked at the word biting, that shoulder pushed right into his mouth.

  “Okay.” He bit down hard, the taste sending him flying, hot and copper and all about life to him.

  “Fuck!” Heat sprayed over his fingers, hot as the life pouring into his lips. So fucking good.

  Clay pulled his teeth out reluctantly, licking at the spot as he came, his hips jerking too hard to even think about controlling them. And Vance took all his strength without a whimper. Oh, he was so owned. All of Vance’s weight rested against him and he could feel the man’s heart pounding against him. It felt good.

  Real good. Too damned good. “You’re addictive, honey. I swear.”

  “Isn’t everybody?”

  “No.” Clay kinda surprised himself by answering, but once he did, he went with it. “I mean, I’ve had some long-time feeders, and I adored them, but it wasn’t like this.”

  Well, there you go. Now he’d given the hunter a weakness.

  “Nothing’s ever fucking been like this, Clay.”

  “No. No, that’s true enough.” Sliding out was pure agony. Nothing in him wanted to let go, but Remy was on the way. “Food’s coming. Don’t run on me again, ’kay?”

  “I’ll take it under consideration.” He’d seen Vance’s feet; they were tore up.

  “I’d just come get you.” That was a promise. It came out maybe like a threat.

  “You’d try.” Oh, he felt that rumble in the pit of his belly.

  “I’d get you. You’re mine now.” Growling, he nipped at Vance’s neck, just making a point.

  Vance groaned and spun around, moving quick as a snake and biting him back, teeth on his shoulder hard enough to burn. Clay grunted, shocked as hell, but not at how fast Vance had moved. More about how damned good it felt. “More, honey. More. Please.”

  Vance snarled and bit again, just a few inches closer to his throat, the bite hungry, wanton. Clay fell back on the bed, pulling Vance with him, holding that hot-as-fuck mouth to his throat. His cock was on the rise again, and he forgot Remy in a heartbeat.

  “Could fucking eat you alive.” Listen to that growl. Shit. It buzzed through him, burning as good as those teeth as they struck again.

  “Want that. Want you.” God almighty. They were gonna burn out like a supernova or something. What a way to go.

  Vance groaned and bit again, then the warm weight on him disappeared, the thud as Vance’s ass hit the floor loud.

  “You leave him alone! Boss! Boss, you good?” Remy lifted the baseball bat, Vance out like a light on the floor.

  “Jesus, Rem! Did you damage him?” Clay blinked, the feeling of loss a hard shock. He crawled off the bed and checked Vance out. Breathing normal, pupils the same size. Oh, good.

  “He was biting you, boss. Wha’ was I supposed to do?” Remy nudged Vance with his toe. “You want me to tie him up?”

  “No. No, babe. I kinda asked him to….” Poor Vance. Well, he’d had a bit of Clay’s blood. He ought to heal up okay. “Thanks for riding to the rescue, though. It means you still care.”

  He winked, reaching out to take the bat out of Remy’s hand gently. No more whacking.

  “Well, sure….” Remy handed the bat over. “I
got all them supplies you need. You sure you don’t want me to tie him up and feed him to them there gators?”

  “No, babe. No gators.” He hefted Vance up onto the bed, putting him in his favorite sleeping position before putting an arm around Remy and steering him to the front room.

  Remy’s dark head hit him right at his nipple, the Cajun still rumbling and spitting, protecting him. It was really adorable. Clay let himself pet and soothe, rubbing Remy’s arm and shoulder. “It’s all good, babe. He’s… he’s not out to get me, I don’t think. He was just misinformed.”

  Remy leaned a little harder. “You needin’ anything, cher? I been missing your face.”

  Man, any other day he might have just bent and taken a sip. Part of him still wanted to. The other part was all weird about it. “I think I’m good, babe. I been missing you too, though.”

  He hadn’t, but it was so nice to see Remy now that he figured it wasn’t all a lie.

  “Good.” Remy had brought him half of an A&P, including a few Penthouse letters books and some crossword puzzle books, plus three new DVDs.

  “Are you bored, babe?” Clay surveyed the stash, eyebrows raised. “Do you need more to do?”

  “You ain’t been about. I thought you might need stuff. I didn’t think I’s gonna get to hit him with a stick.”

  “I didn’t either.” He rewarded Remy for thinking about him with a nice slow kiss. “You’re too good to me, babe.”

  Remy hummed, fingers sliding on his cheek. “I gotta take care of my own, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. You getting any trouble in town?” Lord knew Remy could take care of himself, but Clay liked to look out for his people too.

  “Not a bit. There’s another new guy lurking around, asking questions. Took blondie’s car away.”

  “Shit. I was wondering how long it would take.” Clay shook his head. Damn, who was this Colonel dude? “You be careful, babe. Call me if things get hot.”