Johnnie

by Cardeno C.

  “Mistakes are part of life. Making them is normal.” Hugh locked a steely gaze on Percy. “Repeating them once you’ve been taught otherwise, however, is not.”

  When Percy whimpered and looked at Hugh beseechingly, Hugh rumbled low in this throat, cupped Percy’s nape, and pulled him forward.

  “You’re forgiven.” He rubbed his chin over Percy’s head, scent-marking him and sending a message of acceptance.

  “Thank you.” Percy sighed in relief.

  With another approving rumble, Hugh released Percy and moved away.

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “I can get some of the others and we can quickly make you a meal,” Percy said.

  “No.” Hugh shook his head. “They’re enjoying themselves and I’m able to fend for myself in my kitchen.”

  Though he looked disappointed, Percy nodded without argument. “I’m sorry, Premier.”

  Hugh dipped his chin, squeezed Percy’s shoulder, and then turned around and marched out of the room, his focus on the quiet lion who, like always, trailed after him.

  They drove home in silence but Johnnie’s nonverbal cues communicated how he felt. As soon as he’d realized they were leaving, he’d removed his hands from his pockets, slowly straightened his shoulders, and held his head higher. While they drove, he’d stopped clenching his jaw and the tightness had disappeared from the corners of his eyes. By the time they pulled into the garage, Johnnie was breathing slower and calmer.

  Clearly, Johnnie felt better. Hugh did too. But he didn’t understand why he had been so intensely uncomfortable at Dennis Jones’s pride house. Anger at his lions’ actions made sense, but that wasn’t what had driven him to leave. Hugh put the car in park, took the keys out of the ignition, and then rolled his head to the side and appraised the man sitting beside him.

  “You must be hungry,” Johnnie said.

  “A little.” More than anything, Hugh was distracted. Something had changed and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

  “We have cold cuts and bread. Are you okay with sandwiches for dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  The mood subdued but not awkward, they walked into the house and headed for the kitchen. Johnnie went straight for the breadbox on the counter, taking out a ciabatta loaf. Hugh opened the refrigerator and got out meat slices, cheese, and mayonnaise. They worked in concert, assembling their meal with the easy familiarity they’d built over the previous three weeks.

  “Milk?” Johnnie asked once the sandwiches were plated.

  “Yes.” Hugh always drank milk with his sandwiches. Johnnie, on the other hand, drank tea.

  A couple of minutes later, Johnnie set a glass of milk in front of Hugh and a mug of tea in front of his own plate. He sat down, picked up his sandwich, and munched happily.

  Hugh watched the way he curled his fingers over the bread, how he occasionally darted his pink tongue out to lick the sides of his mouth, and how he sighed contentedly when he sipped his tea.

  “Is that sandwich okay?” Johnnie asked, tilting his head toward Hugh’s uneaten food.

  Glancing down at Johnnie’s plate, Hugh noticed it was empty while his own was untouched. “Sure.” He picked up the sandwich, took a bite, and chewed by rote, not registering the flavor.

  “I’ll clean up.” Johnnie tilted his head to the side, bit his lip, and drew his eyebrows together as he looked at Hugh. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” No.

  When Johnnie leaned over him and took his empty plate, Hugh realized two things. He was done eating and Johnnie smelled good. Really good.

  “Maybe we should go to bed early,” Johnnie suggested. “You seem like you’re hurting.”

  Not in the way Johnnie meant, but if he didn’t take care of the hardness between his legs soon, he would be.

  “Ready?” Johnnie stepped over and laid a gentle hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “Hugh?”

  “I’m fine.” Hugh stood.

  With a hesitant nod, Johnnie moved aside and then followed Hugh up the stairs and into the bedroom. When they got inside, Hugh turned around and dragged his gaze over the other lion.

  “You’re scaring me,” Johnnie said quietly.

  Rearing back, Hugh said, “You think I’ll hurt you?”

  “No.” Johnnie shook his head quickly. “I’m scared you’re hurt or sick or—” He sighed. “You’re acting different.”

  “Well, you look different.”

  “Me?”

  Dragging his gaze from Johnnie’s head, down his body, and back up again, Hugh nodded. “Yes.”

  Maybe Johnnie had done something slight and Hugh’s subconscious had registered it. Would that explain the unfamiliar feelings coursing through him?

  “What did you change?”

  “Nothing.” Johnnie tapped his palms over his blue button-down shirt, tan pants, and then the sides of his face and hair. “I’m exactly the same.”

  But he wasn’t. Hugh didn’t remember Johnnie’s jawline being as strong, his cheekbones as high, or his lips as red and plump. His brown hair looked softer and had it always been streaked with gold highlights? He didn’t recall his skin being so clear that it nearly glowed. And it was difficult to know for certain with Johnnie clothed, but he’d never noticed the broadness of his chest, tightness of his waist, and the enticing bulge in his pants.

  The last thought made Hugh gasp. “What happened tonight?” he said quietly, not sure if he was directing the question at Johnnie or himself.

  “Tonight?” Johnnie screwed his eyebrows together. “Uh, Percy Milroy, or the people in his den, invited the people in Georgia Pilling’s den over for sex instead of preparing dinner for you.”

  Johnnie had answered the literal question posed to him, but it wasn’t the question Hugh had asked.

  “And I didn’t join them,” Hugh said quietly, thinking over that fact and how unusual it was. Or at least how unusual it used to be. He took a moment to reflect. It had been nearly three weeks since the last time he’d screwed anyone.

  “I was wondering about that,” Johnnie said quietly. “Why didn’t you join them?”

  “You didn’t either,” Hugh snapped, feeling as if he had to defend himself, if not from Johnnie’s comment then from the unfamiliar feelings and thoughts swirling through him.

  “But usually you do.” Johnnie paused and then, as if reading Hugh’s mind, said, “But not lately.”

  Hugh opened his mouth to once again point out that the same thing applied to Johnnie because he hadn’t had sex lately either and then a realization struck him. He had never, in the ten years he had lived with Johnnie, seen him fuck. For that matter, he hadn’t thought of him sexually, which was why he was so taken aback by the lust he had felt when he looked at Johnnie’s groin.

  The Siphon had always been the Siphon. But as Hugh ran his gaze over Johnnie’s sharp features and strong body, he saw a man. A smart, funny, kind, sexy man who made his nuts throb and not because of biology, but because of desire.

  “What’s wrong with me?” he said.

  “Are you feeling sick?” Johnnie asked, misunderstanding Hugh’s comment. He stepped up to Hugh until their torsos nearly connected, reached up, and flattened his hand on Hugh’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.” Blue eyes examined Hugh worriedly.

  Surely he had gone too long without sex, because when Johnnie touched him, Hugh’s stomach tightened and his dick hardened to a level that normally required intense foreplay and a long bout of fucking. Wanting to experience the scent he’d noticed in the kitchen again, Hugh inhaled deeply.

  Johnnie smelled of citrus and lavender. It wasn’t cologne. Johnnie was with him continuously so Hugh knew he didn’t use any. He also knew Johnnie’s soap was the same unscented brand he used, their clothing was laundered together, and they hadn’t eaten or been around either of those plants. That meant the delicious aroma was natural to Johnnie. Hugh moaned.

  “Hugh? Do you hurt?”

  He ached, but not in an
unpleasant way.

  “You smell…” Different wasn’t the right description. That scent wasn’t new; it was familiar. And Hugh enjoyed that familiarity.

  “I smell bad?” Johnnie plucked his shirt up to his nose and inhaled. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “No, not bad,” Hugh rasped.

  “Maybe I got something on me.” Johnnie feverishly yanked at his buttons and then pulled his dress shirt off, leaving him wearing only his fitted white undershirt. He tossed the garment aside, leaned forward, and said, “Is that better?”

  The way the thin cotton fabric hugged Johnnie’s chest made Hugh dizzy.

  “What is it?” Johnnie kicked off his shoes and then wiggled out of his pants, throwing them in the same direction as his shirt. “I’ve never seen you get sick.”

  “It’s not your clothes,” Hugh husked, his already deep voice going so low it was unfamiliar to himself. “It’s you.”

  “I swear, I didn’t touch anything.” Johnnie moved away frantically. “I’ll shower.”

  Before Hugh could explain, Johnnie stripped out of his undershirt and briefs. He bent down to peel off his socks, tilting his firm, pale ass up invitingly, and decimating Hugh’s speaking ability.

  “I’ll get these clothes out of here.” Johnnie scooped everything up and cradled it in his arms, leaving his lower half exposed.

  Immediately, Hugh dropped his gaze. Johnnie’s cock was pink and smooth. It draped slightly to the left over nicely sized balls. As he dashed across the room, it swung enticingly.

  “Hugh?”

  Hugh jerked his gaze up.

  “You need to come with me.”

  Johnnie hurried out the door, and Hugh watched him, gaze glued to his ass once again.

  Stopping at the top of the stairs, Johnnie looked over his shoulder at Hugh and said, “The laundry room’s downstairs. That’s too far for me to go from you.”

  Right. Johnnie wouldn’t be able to Siphon Hugh’s power from the other side of the house so Hugh had to stay close to him. Too distracted with his own thoughts and feelings to remember there was nothing wrong with Johnnie’s clothing so neither of them had to leave the bedroom, Hugh said, “I’ll follow you.”

  If nothing else, he’d have a nice view. Reflexively, he dropped his gaze to Johnnie’s backside, and noted small dimples at the tops of his cheeks. Strike that. The view was great.

  Chapter 8

  “Are you still up?” Hugh asked. Johnnie shivered less when he slept so based on the intense trembling at the other end of the bed, Hugh suspected he was awake, but he kept his voice low in case he was mistaken.

  “Uh-huh.” Johnnie wiggled underneath the blanket and then popped his head out. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”

  “I wasn’t sick.” But he couldn’t explain the way he’d reacted to Johnnie’s scent. The way he was still reacting. “Tell me something.”

  “Sure.” Johnnie looked at him expectantly, his expression open.

  “Have you ever fucked?”

  “Uh…” Johnnie swallowed hard, and even in the dim light of the room, Hugh could see his cheeks darken. “No,” he answered, his voice high-pitched.

  The question was simple, the words common. Johnnie was younger than him, but then, so was everyone except a few other Premiers, and spending over a decade as Hugh’s Siphon, meant Johnnie had witnessed a lot of sexual activity. Yet, suddenly Hugh felt as if he’d said something vulgar. He had asked the question merely from idle curiosity; he should let it go.

  “Why not?” He couldn’t let it go.

  Johnnie rubbed his lips together, licked them, and then rubbed them again. “I’m a Siphon,” he eventually said, uttering each word slowly.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Hugh sat up, the discussion making him too restless to lie down. It wasn’t as if Johnnie couldn’t get it up, something Hugh knew because he had started noticing the other man’s erections in his pants and under the sheets. “You’re also a man.”

  “That’s…” Johnnie cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. “That’s really nice,” he rasped.

  “I’m not being nice. I’m just stating a fact.” Hugh dragged his hand over his chest in frustration. Okay, maybe his curiosity wasn’t idle.

  “That’s what’s nice about it.” Johnnie flicked his gaze to Hugh’s hand and then back to his face. “That you think so.” He bit his lip, looked away, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “That I think so?” Hugh curled his fingers around his neck and dug his fingertips into his nape, massaging tense muscles. “What does that mean?” Before Johnnie could respond, he said, “Is that why you don’t have sex? Because you think we don’t see you as a man?”

  Slowly, Johnnie raised his gaze. “We?” he said quietly. “You really think anybody sees me? They don’t even talk to me and you think they want to touch me?”

  There was no denying the way Johnnie had been ignored most of his life. Maybe even all of his life. But that had changed. Or at least it had when it came to Hugh. He noticed Johnnie now. Hell, he couldn’t not notice him.

  “Me,” Hugh said roughly. “I see you.”

  Drawing his eyebrows together, Johnnie looked at him evenly and said, “What do you see?”

  Plump lips. A pink tongue. Silky hair. Soft skin. Entrancing eyes.

  “You’re trembling,” Hugh answered. “Even under that blanket with all those clothes on, you’re cold.” Johnnie was always cold at night. But Hugh wasn’t. He was burning up. “Here.” Hugh reached his arms out as he lay down on his side beside Johnnie. “Get close to me. My body heat will help.”

  Within moments, Johnnie was wrapped in his arms, his soft skin brushing against Hugh’s chest, his silky hair caressing the underside of Hugh’s chin, and his pretty mouth blowing fast bursts of air against Hugh’s nipple. Very fast.

  “You’re breathing too quickly.” Hugh pulled Johnnie closer and flung his leg around Johnnie’s thighs, curling around the other lion in an attempt to surround him with heat.

  “Oh,” Johnnie said, his voice cracking. He grasped at Hugh’s shoulders, his chest, and his flank. “Oh.”

  “What is that?” Hugh rolled sideways, putting Johnnie on his back, and then climbed on top of him. He braced his legs on either side of Johnnie and planted his forearms on the bed to help distribute his weight, but he otherwise kept their bodies connected. “Why do you shake like that?”

  “You’re hard.” Johnnie’s voice was a broken whisper. “I can feel you.”

  “I haven’t fucked in weeks,” Hugh explained easily. “And that little scene earlier tonight reminded me that my body needs release.” Not the orgy at Percy Mitchell’s den, but the sight of Johnnie stripping off his clothes and his clean citrusy scent.

  “Do you…” Johnnie tilted his head back and looked at Hugh, meeting his gaze. “Do you want me?” He blinked, licked his lips, and said, “I mean, do you want me to help you?” He breathed in deeply and cleared his throat. “With your release. I can help.” He bit his upper lip. “If you want.”

  It was an offer Hugh received daily and, more often than not, one he accepted without hesitation, but as he gazed down at Johnnie’s innocent face, he didn’t think of the ache in his dick and the pressure in his balls.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked. “Because I’m fine. You do a lot for me already.” Hugh paused and thought about everything Johnnie had told him about his life, everything he now noticed on his own. “You do a lot for our entire pride. Satisfying me isn’t one of your duties.”

  “You let everyone else satisfy you,” Johnnie said softly. “Does that mean it’s their duty?”

  “They’re not doing it out of obligation.” Hugh considered the way other lions responded to him physically. “They enjoy our time screwing.”

  In fact, they seemed to enjoy it more than Hugh. For him, sex served a need. It emptied his body of semen and evened out his hormones and temperament. But relief wasn’t the same as pleasure, which wa
s something he’d discovered a week earlier when he’d brought himself to a fast, but delicious climax while staring at Johnnie.

  “I don’t feel obligated.” With his gaze locked on Hugh’s face, Johnnie slowly moved his palm down Hugh’s side, pushed it between their bodies, and slid it against his erection. “You’re even hotter here,” he said as he brushed his fingers against Hugh’s cock.

  The tentative, barely-there touch had Hugh throbbing faster than the most skilled blow job. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stay still but Johnnie was too untried to take the full brunt of his sexual aggression.

  “Tell me what you have in mind,” he requested hoarsely. When Johnnie didn’t answer, he gripped his chin and peered into his eyes. “Johnnie?”

  “Yes?” Johnnie said, his fingers still mapping Hugh’s dick, tracing over every vein.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t fucked, but you’ve seen plenty of it. You know how it works. What do you want?”

  “You.”

  “I’m the only one here.” Hugh thought of how to rephrase his question in a way Johnnie would understand. “But what I mean is, as far as sex, when you’ve watched, what turned you on the most?”

  “You,” Johnnie said guilelessly.

  Clearly, Johnnie wasn’t grasping his meaning. Thankfully, they were in a situation where actions mattered more than words. With his balls so tight they felt like rocks, Hugh would normally flip whatever lion he was with onto his or her hands and knees and then plunge into tight heat to slake his hunger.

  But sex was new to Johnnie. Even touch was new to him. So Hugh had to tread gently if he wanted to make sure Johnnie enjoyed himself. With that thought came the startling recognition of just how much he wanted that very thing. And how his desire to make Johnnie feel good came from a very different place than his normal efforts to ensure his lions’ safety and happiness.

  “We’ll take it slow.” Hugh rocked his hips, increasing the fiction against his cock. “The first thing we need to do is take off your pants.” He straightened his arms to a full extension and looked over Johnnie’s body covered in his nightly uniform of inside out soft sweats, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. “Will you be too cold without them?”