by Willa Okati
He shook his head hard enough to hurt, to stop himself thinking. At least for now.
At the other end of the bed, Nick put his slippery fingers to good use. Teasing Barrett, the way Barrett liked best, sliding fingers inside a knuckle at a time. God, yes. So good. He wrapped his lips around the end of Nick’s cock again and sucked, milking Nick for the tiny bubbles of pre-cum trickling out, tongue flat and cupped. He pumped his fist, slick and slow, velvety skin sliding over an iron core.
If only their marks were made for one another. If only he had the courage to look. But if they weren’t—
Nick moaned. Barrett could hear the rustling of hair against the sheets as Nick tossed his head.
Mine.
He’d left Barrett slick and open and empty, but God, Barrett didn’t care. He squeezed his thighs shut and clenched tight, imagining Nick inside, and that was good enough to let him bury his nose in the wiry curls around Nick’s cock and hollow his cheeks with sucking.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Oh— Barrett, stop. Stop.” He shoved at Barrett’s hips, clumsy but meaning it.
Barrett licked his lips clean. “Don’t want to stop.”
“Hell, no.” Nick tried to sit up, coordination be damned. He reached for Barrett. “One of us needs to get inside the other. Don’t care which, but that’s what I want.”
Barrett could have said no. He’d wanted to feel Nick let go. To taste the cum rolling over his tongue, to drink it down to the very last drop, but the emptiness made up his mind. “Lie on your back,” he said, his voice rougher and deeper from taking Nick too deep. “I want to ride you. Want you in me.”
He heard the noisy click of Nick’s hard gulp, and in the last fading light of day saw the shape of him nodding. He slid down, onto his back, and reached for Barrett.
Barrett rose to his knees. He’d meant to carry a condom with him, but he flicked it aside with a scowl. If this was the last time—if—he’d make it count, by God. Let them both make mess enough to soak the bed. He wanted it. He slid one leg over Nick and laid his hands on Nick’s chest for balance as he found his saddle in Nick’s lap. “Hold yourself steady.” He arched when Nick did, and knuckle-bumped his sac along the way.
Fuck. He couldn’t wait—not a second longer—and he didn’t have to. Nick knew what he needed. He flexed his hips, thrust up, and slid home.
“Oh. Oh, God, yes,” Barrett gasped. He ground down once—couldn’t help it—then raised himself almost completely off Nick’s cock then plunged back down. “More,” he breathed. “Harder.”
Nick reached up, grasping what he could of Barrett, rough scrubs of his palms rubbing Barrett’s nipples into stiff peaks. He arched his head back, fumbling his way down. His hand fitted hard and tight around Barrett’s hip and held him there. With the other, he took Barrett’s cock in hand and squeezed.
“Oh, fuck, Nick…” Barrett’s thighs began to shake. “Harder, God, please, harder—”
Nick caught the beads of slick that slipped out and massaged them into Barrett’s skin. “Look at you. Gorgeous.” He quirked his hips, moving deeper without moving down.
Barrett would swear he could feel the length inside him, not only at the ring of muscles that he bore down with. “The way you take me, it’s…”
The back of Barrett’s neck prickled and burned. Blindly, half-mad, he tore the gauze off and let the cool air soothe his skin. “Only you,” he said. “Never will be another you. Want you. Only you. God, Nick—”
“Don’t care what happens,” Nick swore. “Only you. Come on. Harder. Squeeze me. Work me.”
Barrett’s body obeyed. He clamped down on Nick’s cock, buried deep inside. When he rose up and sank down again, the pulse-beat pounding in his groin rose to a fever pitch. “Nick,” he panted. “Nick!”
“Yeah. God, yeah. Me too, baby, almost—” Nick said, voice strangled. “One more time. Hard. Hard as you can. Like that, like that— Barrett, fuck!” he cried, driving deep—deeper—deepest—
Barrett bowed forward, twisting in on himself as he streaked Nick’s chest and belly. Nick’s fingers dug hard into Barrett’s hips, pounding him fast, frantic, racing against the ticking of the clock and greedy for more.
He shouted when he came, a harsh yell that echoed in Barrett’s ears even above the rush of blood to his head. Barrett’s hips jerked, pushing him that much tighter to Nick. He held on, not willing to let go, not even for a second, not until he lost his balance and fell forward.
Nick caught him as he landed across Nick’s chest, one hand in his hair and one moving in hungry sweeps across his back. He found Barrett’s mouth with his and took all the control Barrett didn’t keep for himself, tongue sliding deep, lips hard, the kisses hungry.
But he didn’t pull out. He stayed there. Hard, still. Impossibly hard.
And when Barrett reached down to feel, his cock jutted tight before him, full and fat and straining at the seams. He took himself in hand and almost had to let go. He jerked, a moan escaping him.
Only soulmates could do this…
Only soulmates could do this. Nick knew that. It’d started, then. The soulmarks would be fully dark by now, come into their own. This belonged to the nameless, faceless men who would lay claim to them.
Unless they were…
He closed his mind to the thought. Maybe Barrett’s attitude was catching. But if he even let himself think for a second that they might get that lucky, he’d lose the last crumb of self-control he could call his own. He’d lock them both up and let the devil deal with the fallout.
Still, God, he was so hard as Barrett eased off him. “Nick?” he asked, uncertain-sounding. “Nick, I…”
“Do it,” Nick said. He spread his legs wide. “Come here and do it.”
Barrett hesitated. Nick could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness. “You’re sure?”
“Don’t ask me that. Don’t even think about asking me that.” Still clumsy, but stronger than he’d known he could be, Nick wound his arms and legs around Barrett to pull him close and tight. Same as before, but so different. “For me. Once for me, now.”
Barrett buried his hands in Nick’s hair. Nick let him, even when he pulled too hard and made him wince with the sting of it. He chased his own taste deep in Barrett’s mouth, holding his head with one hand and kneading his ass with the other, urging him closer and closer still. Barrett wasn’t just letting it happen. He encouraged, hands and mouth moving over every bit of Nick that Nick could offer up to him.
“Nick, look at me.” He stopped—tore himself away—to say, “Look at me.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Nick raised his knees to bracket Barrett’s sides, shepherding him move by move. “You’ll only hurt me if you don’t fuck me, now.” He could feel the blunt, hard, wet head of Barrett’s cock pressing against him, and he hadn’t had enough prep but that was all right. He wanted to feel it. Wanted to carry that memory for hours.
Not willing to see if Barrett would hesitate or give up, Nick reached between them and guided Barrett. His hands were slippery, and he could still feel the slide of lube from their playing before. He tightened his legs around Barrett’s and raised his hips, easing Barrett deep inside him on a long, long stroke. Hot, hard, slightly curved, hitting him exactly right. He would have sworn before—still would, now—they’d been made for each other, the way they fit together. Barrett could go deep, so deep, longer than the toys they’d used every now and again, never more than once or twice.
No one else would ever compare. No one could.
Nick reveled in the stolen moment. Barrett had a hand around Nick’s cock, stroking him hard and fast, not stopping. Sweat rolled down his forehead and beaded at the base of his throat. Nick raised his head to lick it away, but that was as much as he could manage. The kissing had ended, no coordination left over for more than moving their mouths open and wet against skin, but that would do fine.
Nick pressed his mouth everywhere he could reach, and tightene
d his legs around Barrett’s hips. Barrett swore under his breath and stopped for a moment, giving himself room to slide out, catch Nick’s leg and push it back to his chest then—back in —
The new angle drove Nick hard against the bed. His throat arched, straining with the pressure of the way he bent his head, and his mouth went dry from hanging open in a soundless shout. He imagined he could feel Barrett swelling harder still inside him as his thrusting stuttered and stumbled through long and still, short and fast—
“Yes,” Nick said, words spilling out of him. He shuddered and groaned as he came a second time, a deep ache emptying itself out. “Oh, God, yes. Go on, Barrett. Go on. Want it, want you.”
Above him, Barrett froze in place, hand and hips still as marble for the longest breath then shaking, shaking as if he were seizing. Coming inside him and—and—
And putting his mouth to Nick’s throat. To the side of his neck. Teeth sharp on his skin, prickling a warning.
They shouldn’t. If they were wrong, and they had to explain that bite to a stranger—
Nick didn’t care. Wouldn’t care. He put his hand to the back of Barrett’s head and pushed down hard. “Do it,” he ordered.
And Barrett did.
Barrett came out of the red fog that’d clouded his mind only a fraction at a time. He licked his lips, his teeth, and tasted a faint hint of sweet copper.
“Don’t,” Nick said, a dark warm shape beneath him. “I asked for it, so don’t you say you’re sorry.” Hands pressed to his back, gliding slick and rough across his skin. “I wanted it.”
Words wouldn’t come. Barrett bent his head to steal one more kiss. The back of his neck burned, scorching him, and if he couldn’t get some relief soon he’d lose his mind. He pressed his own knuckles against it, buried his head in Nick’s chest, and choked down a frustrated shout.
Nick didn’t let go. And yet…and yet, he slowed down. Telegraphed his moves, muscle by muscle, moving to cover Barrett’s hand with his own—then, to nudge Barrett’s hand out of the way.
It couldn’t be. He told himself that over and over again. They couldn’t be that lucky, Barrett wanted to argue, but he wanted it so.
“Don’t,” he said, trying to knock Nick’s hand out of the way. “Don’t make this any harder.”
“I won’t. I’m not,” Nick said. “But, Barrett…what if it is you? What if it’s me? Twice.” He tapped Barrett’s temple with his thumb. “Twice. It might mean something, Barrett. It might. And the bite. You wouldn’t have done that if you…you wouldn’t even have wanted to, Barrett.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
Barrett shut his eyes again and pressed his forehead tight to Nick’s chest. Hope clawed at him, cruel and cunning, but if there was a chance…and maybe, maybe, there might just be a chance after all.
And all the while, Nick waited for him to speak.
“You look,” Barrett said next to Nick’s breastbone. “Get it done. Get it over with. I can’t do it. You look.”
“All right. All right,” Nick soothed. He carded rough fingertips through Barrett’s short hair and guided him as best he could with nothing but his body, off and down, lying on his stomach. “I’m going to turn on the lamp. Okay?”
Barrett closed his eyes against the click of the switch. He crossed his arms beneath his chin and arched his neck at Nick’s light touches of direction. Please, he chanted silently to himself. Just this once, let us beat the odds. Please.
Nick straddled Barrett’s waist, a warm and familiar weight, everything he did as clearly visualized as if Barrett were watching him. Now he was moving the lamp and tilting the shade, now sitting back to take one last look before he looked. Now—
A faint, faint touch to the back of his neck. Whisper-soft, circling his soulmark.
Sweet, sweet surcease at his touch. Snow on a burn. Cream on a dry tongue.
Barrett knotted his fists tight and waited. Waited.
Waited.
He jolted when Nick slid down his body, heavy atop him, his lips suddenly there and warm at Barrett’s ear. “I love you,” he said. “Now and always.”
Barrett didn’t know what he meant by that. He knew what he wanted, but not what was fact, and he’d opened his mouth to say so—to beg, if he had to—
“Meant to be,” Nick said, simple and plain. Ragged with exhaustion. Rough with relief. Raw with triumph. He almost glowed in Barrett’s eyes, alight with happiness. “You dawdling bastard—thank God you caught up at last.”
A burst of joy kindled ablaze in Barrett’s heart and head. He reached back, scrabbling for Nick’s head, and wound his fingers in Nick’s hair. He breathed in, and out, and let himself go with the rush. Thank God. Oh, thank God.
He knew what Nick wanted, and he wanted to give it. He tipped his head to one side and parted his lips. “Your turn, now. Only you.”
“Too damned right,” Nick said. He set his teeth to Barrett’s throat and bit.
Chapter Seven
“I’m moving in.”
Nick looked up from his low crouch on the floor beneath the pool table, finished at last. He’d rescued all but one of the balls Robbie’s brother Cade had accidentally sent flying with an over-enthusiastic break. “You’re moving in with Ivan?”
Robbie chuffed a quiet laugh. “Yes, actually. We decided a few days ago, but that’s not what I meant.” He gestured at the pool table, using his cue stick as a pointer. “That was me trying to tell you I liked your house. You’ve made a good home here.”
Still in his crouch, Nick cast his gaze around the four walls. Normally cozy with two, and packed to the gills tonight with friends and family. They had done a damned fine job, if he said so himself.
‘Course, it wouldn’t be home if Barrett wasn’t in it. Nick lingered on his soulmate holding court in the kitchen, pouring drinks and warning Abram away from poking at vegetables set out to chop.
Barrett must have felt his regard. He glanced up, and though he didn’t wave or call out, he winked, and that was as good as a long-distance kiss.
Robbie watched them, silent but with a hint of a smile showing in his beard.
“We’re happy here. Mind you, there was a time…” Nick spotted the nine-ball under the table leg nearest Robbie. “Aha, found the little devil. Lend a hand?”
“Sure, no problem.” Robbie scooped up the ball and rolled it across the green felt to Nick, who slotted it into place in the rack. “Stripes, solids, or break?”
“It’s just for fun. Might as well call it when we break it.” Nick took up his cue and twirled it. “Guests first.”
“What about handy helpers?” Barrett enveloped him from behind.
Nick leaned into the warm, sturdy arms and breathed deep. Barrett smelled of baking bread, of crisp apples and of late spring rain. “Gave up on Abram?”
“Hopeless case, that one. Might as well let him have his fun. He can’t do that much damage chopping peppers and onions, can he?” Barrett pressed a frosty bottle of beer into Nick’s hand. “Besides, I got bored.”
“Bored with seven people running around, up to no good, including you and me?”
Barrett shrugged comfortably. “I teach elementary school. Keeping up with seven is like taking a vacation.”
True enough, Nick had to admit. He cast a wary eye at Abram, who wielded Barrett’s chopping knife with far more enthusiasm than skill, and decided to let it go. So they’d have oddly shaped pepper chunks in with their potatoes. Hardly a big deal.
Food was food. It was company that made all the difference. He hummed and leaned back against Barrett, idly stroking his wrist. He could feel Barrett’s warm breath on the faint bite scar on the side of his neck. His hair concealed the mark, more or less. Barrett’s didn’t. They wore watches now, thick and chunky, instead of their cuffs.
No one said anything. Maybe they had all known, after all. It wouldn’t have surprised Nick. Honestly, nothing would at this point. In the end, he had Barrett for k
eeps, and Barrett had him. They’d registered their marks, and had their status changed.
Soulmate. My soulmate. Nick laughed as Barrett nuzzled his neck, and pretended an indignant yelp when Barrett followed that up with a pinch to his ass.
“Hands to yourselves, boys,” Ivan said, ambling over with a beer in each hand. He uncapped them with quick, neat twists then passed one to Robbie, who didn’t seem bothered by the lack of game in progress, but settled contentedly in at Ivan’s side instead. “Stripes or solids?”
“No idea,” Robbie said, resting his head against Ivan’s. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”
Nick glanced backward at Barrett. “Any chance you’ll let me go so I can break? There’s not much point in spending all that time wrestling with getting the thing together if we don’t put it to use.”
“Don’t tell, but we’ve made perfectly good use of it so far,” Barrett said in a stage whisper, favoring Ivan and Robbie with a wicked twinkle. “Even if this would be the first actual game of pool played here.”
Ivan groaned. Robbie didn’t bat an eyelash. “I call stripes, then. You’ve met my brother. Takes more than that to throw me.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Barrett said, sounding impressed. Nick nudged his elbow lightly into Barrett. Barrett pretended to ignore it, while under the table he stroked Nick’s hip. “Your brother sounds like an interesting sort of guy.”
Robbie winced. “That’s one word for it.”
Nick would have liked to stay and listen—nothing like getting the dirt dished out for free—but a flash of light outside caught his attention. He unwound Barrett’s arms and thumped him on the shoulder. “Keep that warm for me. I’ll be right back.”
“Everything all right?”
“As far as I can tell,” Nick said. He kept track of the light and movement outside. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. He nodded at the window to direct Barrett’s focus. “Just curious.”
“You think Daniel’s off?” Barrett asked in Nick’s ear, no projecting his voice this time.
“Maybe. I’ll never know unless I ask.”
