Incubus Dreams ab-12

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "Liar," I said.

  He gave me an unhappy smile. "I thought you were too busy to notice me. I should know that without the ardeur you pay better attention."

  "What's wrong?" Nathaniel asked.

  "I'm not sure," I said.

  "Don't worry," Jason said, "I'm not pining for you, Anita, or Nathaniel for that matter. But I am pining for someone to take that much time and attention with me."

  I frowned at him.

  "You can have sex, and it can be good, but I'd give almost anything to have someone touch me the way you touch Nathaniel. We'll probably have sex later, and it will be great, but you won't look at me like that."

  I sighed. "I think I remember us having this conversation before. You want to be consumed by love, and my goal in life is never to be consumed at all."

  "Ironic, isn't it," he said, "I want just once for someone to look at me the way you look at Nathaniel, and you've been scared to death of it. You keep saying that the ardeur is a curse, but if the ardeur had never come along, you wouldn't have Nathaniel, or Micah. I'm not even a hundred percent sure you'd be double dating with Asher and Jean-Claude."

  I laid my arms across Nathaniel's cheeks and rested my face on my arms and looked at Jason. I looked at him and tried to hear what he was saying. "Maybe, about Asher, I mean. Once you've crossed enough lines, one more doesn't seem that big a deal."

  "Exactly," Jason said.

  "So the ardeur is what, a blessing?"

  "Look at what you're propped up on, and tell me it isn't? I heard you earlier, Anita. If the ardeur hadn't come to you, you'd still be stuck where you had been. You'd still be fighting what you want, and what you think you're supposed to want."

  I looked at him, while I rested against Nathaniel's body. Nathaniel had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at Jason. We both seemed utterly comfortable with him there. Was that wrong? It didn't feel wrong.

  I wanted to argue, but I couldn't, well, I could, but I would have sounded silly. If the ardeur hadn't come, where would I be? I thought, I'd still be with Richard, but as soon as I thought, I knew better. Richard had used the ardeur as another excuse to run from me, but he hadn't liked any of my life. He hadn't liked the police work, the zombie raising, my comfort with the vampires and shapeshifters. Strangely, the thing he'd liked less was that I seemed willing to accept him and his beast. I'd seen too far into his head in that one moment in my own bathroom. Damian had said it best; Richard loved his shame more than he loved anything else.

  So, where would I be without the ardeur ? No Micah, no Nathaniel, no Asher. My life still nothing but murder cases, zombie raisings, and vampire slayings. Hell, without the ardeur would I have stayed with Jean-Claude, or would I have found another reason to run from him, too? Maybe. It sounded like something I'd do.

  I looked at Jason and settled more solidly against Nathaniel's body. He sighed, and laid his head down on the bed.

  "So what, the ardeur is the universe's way of getting me where I needed to go?"

  "Maybe," he said, then grinned, "I can't speak for whole universe. All I know is that I envy you, and I don't envy many people."

  I frowned.

  "Are you jealous?" Nathaniel asked.

  Jason looked surprised, either at the question, or at who had asked it. He finally shook his head. "Not jealous of you or Anita, like in love with you jealous, no. Jealous of what you have together, hell yes. Jealous of not having that many people in love with me, hell, yes, again." He smiled, and then grinned, and it reached his eyes this time. "Besides, I'm not Anita's type for a relationship."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

  "I'm not submissive enough, or dominant enough for you. I'm certainly not domestic enough. I'm also not willing to take on all the responsibilities that Micah seems to embrace so easily. You've found another person who thrives on his job and taking care of other people's crises. Not my idea of fun." He spread his hands wide. "You and Jean-Claude, well, that's something else. I know I can't compete with it."

  "It's not a competition," Nathaniel said.

  "You don't see it that way," Jason said, "but I'm just dominant enough, and guy enough, to see it that way."

  "If any one of them saw it as a competition, it wouldn't work," I said.

  "I know," Jason said. He shook his head. "I'm going into the bathroom again, and this time I'm staying there until I'm called, or until I feel the ardeur rise. You guys have fun. Sorry, if I flattened the mood."

  "My mood's fine," I said.

  "Mine, too," Nathaniel said.

  Jason stared at us both. "No ardeur , and I've made you talk and think too hard, and you're still okay with this?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Why?"

  "Because a very wise and dear friend told me I was going to fuck this up, and I don't want to do that."

  He smiled and his face softened. "If you do ever pick one of them to actually marry, and it's Nathaniel, I get dibs on being best man."

  "I don't think that's going to come up," I said, "but if it does, you'd be our first pick."

  "You didn't ask Nathaniel," he said.

  "She didn't have to," Nathaniel said.

  Jason walked toward the bathroom, shaking his head. "Too dominant by half."

  I called after him. "You know I have to be the better man in any relationship, Jason." I meant it to be a joke.

  He turned at the bathroom door, and said, "Fuck, Anita, you are the better man. Just because you don't have the right equipment, doesn't change what you are." He closed the door behind him, firmly, until it clicked.

  We were left alone in the bedroom. Nathaniel raised up and looked down at me. "You don't have to finish tonight, Anita. Jason's right, the way you touched me, I know if not this time, then next. The sooner you feed the ardeur the better you'll feel."

  I smiled at him, then unfolded my arms and slid my face down, until I was as far between his legs as I could get. He wasn't as excited now, and the skin was loose. I licked that most delicate of skin and heard his breath go out in a long sigh. I drew the loose skin into my mouth, pulling it gently out and away from his body. The skin didn't stay loose for long, and when it was tight and I could lick the balls inside that skin, I told him, "On all fours."

  He did it without being asked twice.

  I drew his balls into my mouth, one at a time, carefully, so carefully. I rolled them in my mouth with tongue and lips, until they were wet and slick. I caught glimpses of the rest of him, just in front, but not all, and not well. I'd only seen him nude from the front three times. Once when I first met him, once when I made the triumvirate between him and Damian, and earlier in my office.

  "Roll over," I said, and he spilled himself over onto his back. He lay thick and quivering against his stomach, pointing like an exclamation mark against his own body. "I don't remember you being this big the first time I saw you nude."

  "I was in a hospital. Someone had almost killed me. I wasn't at my best."

  I gazed down at him, and said, "I can see that." I reached for him, slowly, and laid my hand against the warmth of him. But I was losing my patience. Another time I'd be slower, but now I wrapped my hand around him, let the thick round hardness of him fill my hand. His upper body spasmed, raising a little off the bed. I slid one hand to his balls and massaged them, while I stroked the thick velvet warmth of him. "So soft, and so hard, all at the same time."

  I stroked him, until his eyes lost focus and his neck spasmed, so that he was closed eyed, and didn't see me bend down. I slid my mouth over the tip of him while he wasn't looking, and he cried out, as I worked my mouth down the length of him. I knew what I wanted. I wanted all of him inside my mouth, down to his balls, at least once. Next time I'd start with him smaller, now I had to fight for it. I'd gotten better at deep-throating, because sharing a bed with Micah, it was either get better at taking more, or stop doing one of my favorite things. Practice paid off, I sealed Nathaniel inside my mouth in one hard, clean line, until my
lips touched the top of his testicles. I could only stay for a moment, then I had to come up. Up to breathe, up to let the wetness from my mouth trail down the shaft of his body.

  I raised up on my knees, between his thighs, and the look on his face was worth all the effort. In fact, worth so much, that I had to do it one more time. Then I came up more shallow on him, so I could move better, thrusting him in and out of my mouth. Licking him, rolling him, sucking him, and when he was making enough noise, very lightly, I used teeth.

  "Oh, God, yes, yes, please."

  I moved off him enough to ask, "Please, what?"

  "More teeth, please."

  I frowned at him. "Most men think that hurts."

  "I'm not most men," he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made me press my mouth back over him. I sucked him, pulling hard and firm, then forced my mouth down on the shaft, not as far as before, and bit him, not too hard, but harder than I'd bitten any other man I'd done this with. I kept my eyes on his face, so I could see if it hurt him. The look on his face had nothing to do with pain. His eyes were wild, and he said, "Harder."

  I looked at him.

  "Please, Anita, please, you don't know how long I've wanted this."

  It wasn't my bits being bitten, but I was reminded that Nathaniel had once had no stopping point, no danger-do-not-cross sign. I could do what he wanted, but it was up to me to make sure it didn't go too far. I was finally doing what he'd always wanted. I was topping him.

  I went down on him fast and hard, and this time I bit him hard enough that my teeth closed around that thick, meaty flesh. I had a momentary flash of not the ardeur , but of the beast, and its craving for flesh between teeth. I pushed it away, but I also came off of him and didn't do it again. But I'd done enough, because his eyes were rolled to whites, and he was writhing on the bed. His hands had grabbed mounds of the sheet, and his body strained, and bucked against the bed.

  I waited for him to lie still, though his eyes stayed like butterflies, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. When I caught a glimpse of lavender eyes between the fluttering, I stroked him gently. I stroked him with my hands, until I had his eyes looking at me instead of the inside of his own eyelids.

  He looked up at me, his lavender eyes lazy, and his smile was like the cat who got the cream. I wrapped my hand around that warm, thick, length. Wrapped my hand and squeezed. "I want this inside me."

  When his eyes opened, he said, "You haven't had any foreplay."

  I squeezed him again, watched his spine bow, and his head throw back, sliding the long braid of his hair off the bed, like something escaping off the edge. "Trust me, Nathaniel, I've had foreplay."

  When he recovered enough, he said, "You're not the only one who hasn't gotten to touch someone below the waist."

  I closed my eyes. "Please, Nathaniel, please, just make love to me. I want you to finish what you started in the office, please."

  He looked at me, and there was something in that look that was very male and very grown-up. "You liked that, did you?"

  I gave him a look, then said, "You were there, what do you think?"

  He sat up, and I was suddenly surrounded by his legs, his arms. He kissed me, and the kiss was gentle, but not chaste. He explored my mouth the way I'd explored his legs, and ass, lightly, delicately, savoring it. But one hand was sliding down the front of my body, until his fingers slid over me. My body reacted to that light touch, but his hand didn't stop. He traced a finger around the opening to my body. "You are wet."

  "I told you so."

  He slid the finger inside of me and stole my breath. Then he pushed two fingers inside of me, and with the tips of his fingers found that spot. He flicked the tips of his fingers, just the tips, flexing them fast, and firm against that spot. And it was as if that part of my body had been waiting for him, as if all the work he'd done earlier, was still there, because those quick, firm touches, brought me. Brought me screaming, nails digging into his shoulders, and back.

  He caught me with his other arm around my waist, or I would have fallen back to the bed. He slid his fingers out from inside me, and said, "Now, you're ready."

  Since all I was seeing was the inside of my eyeballs, and speech was not an option, I tried to nod, but I really don't think I needed to. As they say, actions speak louder than words.

  51

  I watched his face above me, as his body worked in and out of mine. He stayed propped on his arms, his legs were bent toward me, so that he acted as a frame for his own body. Seeing him sliding inside me threw my head back, spasmed my body, but I fought for control. Fought to see him. To watch him, this first time. This first time after so many false starts. I fought my body, fought the amazing sensations that were filling me, fought, because I wanted to see his face.

  Propped up like he was, it was shallow, and usually I liked it deep, but something about the angle, or the depth, or lack of it, or the rhythm, which was quick, so quick, began to bring me. I could feel it starting. I remembered in time to gasp, "When I go, you go."

  His voice was strangely controlled, as if he were concentrating very hard on what he was doing. "You can go more than once, I may not be able to."

  I touched his face, held it light between my hands. "When I go, you go, no more near misses."

  His eyes smiled down at me. "Agreed."

  And suddenly there was no time for words, no time for debate. The orgasm tightened my body, then spread outward, blowing through my body, my skin. I rode that wave after wave of pleasure. His eyes went wide, as if they were surprised, and his breathing quickened, his body hesitated, paused almost, then he thrust himself deep inside me, and if I hadn't held his face he'd have thrown his head back, but I wanted to watch his eyes. They were almost frantic. His body spasmed again, and this time the orgasm caught me unprepared and my hands lost his face, my eyes rolled back into my head, and I screamed.

  He collapsed on top of me and thrust as hard and sudden as he could. I shrieked under him and clawed at his back. His skin gave under my nails. He writhed on top of me. Writhing with his body still thrust deep inside mine, caused my nails to dig deeper, and I set my teeth in his shoulder, screaming into his skin. Making a gag of his flesh between my teeth.

  Nathaniel's body liked the pain. It was as if, as long as I hurt him he wasn't done. The more that my nails and teeth dug into him, the more his hips pumped into me. It was like we were caught in an endless loop of pain and pleasure, and the line from one to the other blurred.

  His breathing changed again, and when his body threw itself backward, in orgasm, I still had my teeth in his shoulder. He tore himself out of my mouth. I released him in time to not take a bite out of him or lose a tooth, but not in time to keep from drawing blood. I was suddenly drowning in the taste of his blood. Sweet and salty and metallic, and underneath that, something else, something more. I'd bitten his neck only hours before, and I had not been as aware then of the taste of his blood. It was like the difference between gulping water because you were thirsty and sipping wine to enjoy the bouquet. I let Nathaniel's blood rest on my tongue, licked it against the roof of my mouth, played with the taste, the texture, the warmth of it.

  I let it slide down my throat. I made it last, as if it were the last sip of liquid I would ever have. I'd craved blood before, but as with the beast, I'd thought that one part was all of it. In that one sweet taste I knew better. I'd tasted blood before, but I'd never enjoyed it or known that it could taste like this.

  Power trailed over Nathaniel's skin, and trapped under his body, that power marched over me in a skin-tingling, breath-stealing rush. It made me shiver, and my beast stirred, like something furred and half-asleep, disturbed from its nap.

  Nathaniel bowed down toward me again, his eyes were pale gray with a hint of almost blue. I stared into his leopard's eyes and felt his beast stretch inside his body, like it was rubbing against the bones of its cage.

  My beast stretched inside my body, I'd had the sensation before, but
I'd never been able to feel it as if my body were somehow hollow and this long shape stretched the length of me. It made me shiver, and it was hard to breathe for a moment, as if something truly was inside me and had reached up high enough to compromise my lungs. The pressure lasted for a moment, then it was gone, but I hadn't liked the sensation of it.

  "You smell of blood," Nathaniel said, and there was an edge of growl to his voice.

  "It's your blood," I whispered, and my heart was already beating faster.

  "But it's in your mouth," he growled, just above my lips. His mouth was suddenly on mine, his tongue pushing between my lips. He kissed me, hard and long and deep, pushing his tongue so far into my mouth that it was almost like deep-throating. But his tongue was neither as long or wide as he was. But this had teeth that almost cut at my lips, a bruising force, that no amount of oral sex could equal. His tongue licked along the roof of my mouth, the inside of my cheeks. He was licking the taste of his own blood from my mouth.

  The leopard screamed through my brain, he's eating us! I knew better, but something moved inside me, in places that nothing was supposed to move. I felt it, not like some liquid amorphous shape, but as if something very solid and very real was sitting in the center of my body and moving around. It stirred, and this time I felt something like a hand stretch upward, and something else stretch down. It hurt, and I was suddenly choking on Nathaniel's kiss.

  He drew back, and the smile on his face was fierce and joyous, a savage beauty, as if the thoughts behind his face weren't very human anymore. "You taste good," he said, and his voice was painfully low. It didn't sound like Nathaniel's voice at all.

  The leopard didn't react to that growl, it was gone from my head. But that thing in the center of my body stretched, stretched legs and arms inside my body. I could feel it touching things that should never have been touched. I screamed and stared up into his eyes and wondered if there was enough of Nathaniel in there to help me.

  "Anita, what's wrong?" With leopard eyes and a voice of a stranger, but his face was all Nathaniel, all concern and worry.