by H M Wolfe
Chapter one
T he blond sat behind the desk, an expression of concentration on his beautiful face, the long, slim, elegant fingers caressing the keyboard. "My sweet prince, time for us to go to bed. You've worked enough for today." The deep, sexy voice of the raven-haired man made him smile.
"Just a while longer, my king; no more than five minutes, I promise." He raised his head, the sky-blue eyes meeting the burning sapphires of the other. "Please, Daniel? I promise to make it up to you." A smile bloomed on the blond's sensual lips.
"Tarquin, but..." the black-haired man started to protest, but changed his mind. "All right, but no more than five minutes. I'm going to hop into the shower and then straight under the covers. I'm dead tired." He yawned, stretching his hands above the head in a feline gesture.
"I don't feel like showering right now, maybe later," the blond replied in a whispered voice, continuing to tap at the computer.
As soon as Daniel went into the bathroom, Tarquin logged off from the little computer, then disappeared almost entirely into the closet, coming out after a couple of minutes. He wore a short, tight vest, that exposed most of his smooth, narrow chest and belly, and a pair of large, transparent pants.
Going back to the desk, he browsed through several playlists, a mischievous shining in the crystal-blue eyes. With a grin of satisfaction, the blond selected a few songs, and the sweet sounds of Oriental music started to fill the room with their harmony. Closing his eyes, Tarquin stood still for a moment, then raised his slim, elegant arms above his head, tiptoeing through the room.
Head tilted back, he undulated his willowy waist and narrow hips, becoming one with the rhythm, the moves increasingly fluid. The man's beautiful face was brightened by an ethereal, ecstatic smile, as he circled the bed, his undulating arms mimicking the gracious flight of a bird.
Coming from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Daniel stopped in the middle of the room, breath hitching, unable to take his eyes off of the sight his husband was offering. Tarquin was abandoned to the intoxicating rhythm, lids heavy with passion. Daniel's heart beat faster as the blond got closer and closer until the space between them was reduced to a few inches.
Barely touching the towel wrapped around his husband's waist, Tarquin made it fall to the ground. With slow, languid moves, he removed the vest, the smooth skin on his torso glistening with sweat. The pink tip of the blond's tongue darted provocatively over his full, sensual lips, driving Daniel crazy with desire and lust. But the raven-haired man knew better than to intervene and break the spell, even if his cock was painfully erect and swollen.
"My prince, please," he managed to articulate, panting heavily, "I can't take any more of this sweet torture. Have mercy on me!"
"What are you waiting for, my king? Come. Collect your prize and do whatever you want to him. This captive prince waits for your command," Tarquin said smoothly, starting to grind against his husband's crotch.
"I like it rough," Daniel whispered heatedly in the blond's ear, making him shiver in anticipation, "and I'm afraid your fragile self can't handle the level of ravaging I'm going to inflict on you."
"I may look fragile, but I'm used to being treated roughly," the blond replied, seductively swaying his hips. "Do you want to put me to test, Your Majesty," Tarquin smirked, continuing to move tantalizingly.
"Well, Your Highness, if that's the case..." Daniel's voice was rugged as he lightly pulled at the string holding the blond's pants in place. They pooled around the man's supple, delicate ankles, leaving him fully exposed to the other one's hungry eyes. "Back against the wall," he ordered, pointing to the far end of the room.
"Uh-oh, this is getting interesting." Tarquin looked at the said wall; in fact, an enormous mirror covering a whole side of the bedroom. "I didn't know you liked to watch..."
"Me hammering in that tight little ass of yours?" A mischievous grin accompanied the answer. "You bet I like, very much even. And now, you better put that sweet mouth of yours to good use, unless you want to be taken dry and unprepared." Daniel gently pushed a finger into his husband's mouth.
"Mmm, it tastes so good." Tarquin let out a deep moan, expertly sucking on it. "I want more," Tarquin growled as he guided another finger into his mouth.
"That should suffice." The black-haired man pulled the two digits out of the blond's mouth, after thrusting it in a few more times.
Then, he made the blond walk backward until his back touched the mirror wall. Closing the space between them, Daniel took control of his husband's lips, devouring them, demanding access into the sweet mouth, letting the passion and fire consume himself in the soul-searing kiss.
Heart beating erratically, Tarquin wrapped his long, gracious legs around his lover's waist, urging the man to prepare him for the intrusion, which he happily obliged, sliding the wet fingers in and out the puckered, wanting ass. When his husband was ready enough, Daniel carefully pushed inside him, one inch after another, until he was deeply seated.
With each thrust, the ball of fire in the pit of Tarquin's stomach grew bigger and bigger until it finally exploded into a million fireworks, sending him into an abyss of pleasure. In the meantime, Daniel flooded his husband's tight channel with his load, surrendering to the bliss of the orgasm. With knees of jelly, Daniel collapsed slowly to the floor with Tarquin on his lap.
"Thank you for putting up with my often whiny, work-obsessed, awkward self," Tarquin whispered, running his delicate hand up and down the other man's chest, pushing him back to lie flat on the floor. "It must have been hard for you at times during the last ten years."
"Ten years? I thought it was yesterday," the answer came in a rough, warm voice. "A decade since you came into my life, turning it upside down in the best, most wonderful way. Until then, I never thought I was worthy of someone's love, never dared to hope that I would draw the attention of a beautiful, intelligent, kind, courageous, and generous man like you."
"This is a very accurate portrait of you, my love, my one, and only." Tarquin stretched out on top of Daniel, placing his head on his husband's chest, sighing in contentment. "And, I would add, the most loving, supportive, and understanding father in the world. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for Emery and Lochlin."
"They are my sons, too, just as Gabriel is yours." Daniel rolled them onto one side and faced the love of his life. "You adored that shy little boy from the moment you saw him and took him into your warm, generous heart, teaching him what love and compassion meant."
"Loving him was easy, as he had so much of you in him, so many wonderful qualities and physical traits." Tarquin smiled, chastely kissing the corner of his husband's sensual mouth.
Daniel didn't reply; instead, he cupped the blond's face with one hand, caressing his rebellious curls with the other. He controlled the kiss, deepening it, a mix of domination and tenderness, drinking his soulmate's essence, becoming intoxicated by it. Tarquin abandoned himself to the sweet, delicious sensation, becoming limp into the other one's strong arms.
The kiss ended as it started, on a tender note, with small, shy pecks on the cheek and lips sealing the pact of love between the two men. It didn't take long for them to fall asleep in each other's arms, serenity taking over the room.
The young man, barely in his twenties, cursed silently for a good minute when he finally left the place from where he'd spied on the couple for the last two hours. The position was extremely uncomfortable; his neck, back, and shoulders were stiff. However, the effort paid off, because the pictures and the images he captured on the camera were of excellent quality. The sound was muted, but that wasn't his problem.
He couldn't figure out why his employer was so intere
sted in the black-haired man's everyday life, especially in his and the blondie's nocturnal activities. A target is a target: get in, eliminate it, get out, as clean and quick as possible. That's what the boss himself taught him. Why that particular job had to be different was beyond his capacity of understanding.
If he didn't know his employer better, the young man could have sworn that he jerked off by looking at the images and pictures of the two doing the naughty. But the guy had a long stick up his ass. He was the driest, sternest fifty-something fellow he had come across during the twenty-one years of his life.
Well, he had met worse specimens—way worse—but that wasn't the moment for a trip down the memory lane. "Don't go there, Brennan," he admonished himself, but it was too late. The dam started to crack; all the memories threatening to flood his mind. Breathing heavily with his heart frantically hammering against his ribcage and still fighting the stiffness in his back, neck, and limbs, he made it to the safety of the car, locking himself inside.
Soon, the scenes from the past resurfaced, assaulting him, the faces of all those vicious beasts appearing before his eyes. With their teeth-baring grins, the cruelty in their beady, cold eyes; the twisted, ugly smiles; the grabby, strong hands holding him in place on the cold metal table. Everything was there in horrific, vivid details.
A long, pained wail tore through the young man's chest, echoing into the night. Without his medication at hand, the urge to destroy, harm, and kill were going to take control over him soon enough. He could already taste the blood, smell it, could sense the fog and darkness descending over his brain while the voices told him no one deserved to live.
Unlike all the other times, in a way he couldn't explain, a part of Brennan's brain remained conscious and untouched by the blackness. It allowed him to come back by focusing on the next mission: eliminating the black-haired man, whom his boss described as a soulless bastard, and who was abusing the blondie he shared the bed with.
There was something strange about the whole thing, Brennan thought, frowning. On the one hand, his boss was completely honest about the reasons why he wanted him to eliminate a target or another. On the other hand, there were no bruises, scars, or other signs of physical abuse on the blondie's body, and he didn't show signs of fear in the presence of the other one.
It wasn't his business, after all. Brennan shrugged; there was no place for feelings in that job. The young man hadn't done feelings since the age of fourteen, and that was a place he didn't want to be at that moment. Not then, not ever.
CHAPTER 2
"G ood evening, Mister B.," Brennan said, stepping into the room, "I brought today's materials, hot off the press, as always." He put the mini-cam and the thick envelope on the desk, lightly pushing them.
"Finally," the man said in a harsh voice. "You took your sweet time this evening. I thought you were not going to show up. Mmm, that's some good stuff." The tone of his voice became enthusiastic at the sight of the images.
"I did my best like I always do," the young man replied in a linear voice. "Now, if that's all for tonight, give me the key. I want to go to the apartment; I'm drained and..."
"Indeed, you don't look so well," the man's voice became worried as he examined Brennan with a critical eye.
"I—I had an episode but managed to make it to the car and...I'm alright now, just drained. Some meds would be nice, too," Brennan spoke in the same neutral voice from earlier.
"We've had this discussion before," the other man spoke sternly. "What you have can't be treated with standard medication. It would only make you confused and lethargic. Is this what you want? I have some things to finish, and I'll give you a ride. You can't drive in this state." He turned his attention to the computer screen.
"Can I ask you something?" Brennan started, then, after a short pause, seeing that he didn't get an answer, continued, "Why are you interested in the blond so much? Is he one of your enemies, too?"
"Oh, no, not at all. Quite the opposite." The older man traced Tarquin's body contour with the pad of his thumb. "His father is a dear friend of mine, who, unfortunately, fell under a bad influence in his young years. However, he asked me to watch over his son and get him out of those harpies' grip. There are more of them, including his traitorous twin brother. However, that devil calling himself his husband is the worst."
"I see it now." Brennan nodded, his voice a bit more lively. "How do you want me to do it? What weapon should I use?"
"A car." The lips of the man contorted into a hideous rictus. "Make it look like an accident. It happened before, but the little bastard made out of it in one piece."
"It won't happen again, I'll see to it. Of course, I'm ready to face the consequences in case of a failure," Brennan spoke without hesitation.
But the man didn't answer, engrossed as he was in watching the images of Daniel and Tarquin making love against the mirror wall. Each moan of the blond as his husband was thrusting inside him, sent a tiny shock of pleasure to his groin, making his dick stir in the pants and the fabric confinement tighter by the second.
It should have been him instead of that brat; that tight, perfect, little ass should have clenched around his long, meaty cock, the man thought bitterly. However, there was still time. He could always make that happen. He maintained the idea, raising his head and looking straight ahead, gaze lingering on Brennan.
A perfect, beautiful face, with a sharp jawline and sensual lips, which the man imagined around his cock, while he was thrusting in that perfectly shaped mouth. The intense, strange, turquoise eyes were the only things that somehow scared him. Then again, he didn't have to look into those scary eyes while plunging into the young man's virgin ass.
Leaving the comfortable armchair behind the desk, the older man headed to Brennan, closing the space between them. "How about you and me feeling good together?" He winked suggestively, trying to touch the other one on the chest.
"How about you keep your dirty paws away from me?" Brennan replied in a stone-cold, low voice, the turquoise eyes narrowed to two slits.
"Why do you have to be such a party pooper?" The man tried to sound like he was joking, although his voice was laced with irritation. "I'm sure you have needs, and I'm volunteering to take care of them," he continued smoothly.
"Listen, dude, you are my boss, but that's where things stop between us. I don't have needs, don't do feel good and romance, but even if I did do this crap, I'd choose someone my age. I mean, you're so old, you could be my father. There's no way I...you know what, I've changed my mind. You can keep the goddamn key. I'm going to my place."
"I've known you for four years, and you have never taken me there. I'm starting to believe this is just an excuse for meeting my enemies and selling me out," the older man continued in the same smooth, sweet voice.
"Don't worry about me selling you out. I won't. Try to touch me one more time or come close to my place, and I'll spill your guts out without a knife. That is what you should worry about," Brennan replied with a smirk. "Good night," he added, closing the door behind him.
"Snotty brat!" The man slammed his fist against the desk in frustration. He had to wait until that little bastard could get rid of all the obstacles between him and the grand prize awaiting at the end of that narrow, dangerous road. But once he collected the rewards, that sweet ass would pay the ultimate price for being so arrogant. "You don't know who you are messing with, boy. Don't you have any idea of what Fabian Bloom is capable of!"
Meanwhile, after showering the sweat of the day off of him and thoroughly drying himself, Brennan changed into a pair of comfy cotton pajamas and slid under the covers, opening Sun Tze's The Art of War, one of his all-time favorites. One might believe that the tactics and strategies described there were way outdated, but he found them fascinating, especially those involving psychological warfare.
Suddenly, right in the middle of a chapter about the art of deceiving the enemy, the voices started to whisper again, dripping poison in the young man's ear and filling his
mind with murderous thoughts. The fact that his boss had tried to touch him intimately earlier didn't make the situation more manageable. On the contrary, it brought back horrible memories from when he was nothing more than a lab rat.
The screams, cries, and pleas of the boys as the twisted-minded monsters were torturing the cubs in the cages, making them watch; the futile attempts of resistance the little furry creatures made; the smell of blood and fear; everything came back with the force of a sucker punch. Covering his ears, Brennan cried in anguish, his hands spinning and twisting as he hit out at the imaginary attackers.
After a few good minutes of fighting off the ghosts of his past, the young man fell on the bed, arms sprawled, staring at the ceiling. The next second, a sensation of profound loneliness took over him, and he welcomed it with open arms. Mean bastard, a killer and torturer, just like those men at the lab. He was all those things, and the solitude was the consequence of his actions.
Taking lives was all he knew, but he made it into a form of macabre art, combining old methods of torture and creating new, more effective, crueler ones. There was no time nor place for kindness and love in his heart. The world he lived in was pitch-dark, just like his soul and mind.
Tarquin reveled in the serenity of the room, enveloped in the warmth radiating from his husband's body. The blond was spooned from behind, his back pressed against Daniel's broad, muscular chest. Closing his eyes for a moment, Tarquin inhaled the other's scent, letting out a soft, happy sigh. There, in that bed, next to the raven-haired man who breathed calmly and evenly, he felt safe, peaceful, cherished, and loved.
If only things were that simple all the time, Tarquin thought, a little saddened. A new child trafficking and prostitution ring had appeared on the ruins of the one the detested Alexander had built, the leader even more ruthless and hard to catch. All the structures of the House were involved in stopping it, but the blond took the mission to heart, considering it a personal challenge.
