by J P Sayle
Aaden cursed up a storm and balled his hands at his side. The urge to throttle Greg was beyond tempting. Did the little shit think he was going to chase him on to the dance floor when he’d already chased him halfway across the country?
Aaden’s height gave him the advantage of being able to watch over the crowd as it moved together, bodies moving almost in a coordinated fashion as music pulsed out of huge speakers. He waited several minutes, each seeming longer than the last, finding he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Greg.
His fluid body moved in time to the sensual beat of the music. Aaden unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth while he pushed at the tent in the front of his trousers. He found himself rubbing his steely cock, looking for a little relief when images of Greg doing the exact same sensual dance on top of him took hold.
His lips dried while he struggled to pull in air from a room that suddenly felt like it had none as hands that weren’t his slid over his red beauty’s body. His jaw ached with restraint as he marched through the sweaty, heaving bodies to get to his target. Yanking the guy back, he watched Greg stagger before knocking into Ann who was dancing in front of him.
Not giving Greg a chance to recover, he gave Ann a quick nod before pulling Greg behind him off the dance floor, heading straight for the exit. He was unable to believe Greg would be so stupid as to goad the beast, and now the beast wanted out.
He felt Greg’s resistance. Turning, Aaden watched in horror when Greg’s eyes rolled into the back of his head while his face contorted in a mask of utter terror and pain. It slackened a second later as he watched him lose consciousness.
Aaden barely had time to register the reason as he scooped up Greg, pushing past those milling around by the exit. Using his height and what he was sure was a fierce scowl, he managed to get out without much trouble. He hailed one of the waiting taxis, and he jumped in, giving the guy directions to the hotel, never once taking his eyes of Greg’s ashen face.
“Everything all right, mate?”
The cockney accent interrupted the turmoil swirling in his mind.
“Yes, we’re fine. He just got a little overheated in the club and passed out. He’ll be fine once he cools down and has some water.” Aaden prayed he was telling the truth, though in the back of his mind he was terrified of the look he’d seen on Greg’s face before he’d passed out cold.
He’d never, ever, wanted to see that look in real life.
Opening his mind to Max, he shouted to him. Praying he was wrong about what he’d imagined. Please let me be wrong, please, please.
Greg’s eyelids fluttered as he tried to wake his brain up. A brain that felt like it was coated in cotton candy, sticky and overall a bit of a mess.
Why is my cheek moving on my pillow?
Greg snuggled into the solid warmth against his cheek as it continued to move up and down. Scents of wood and musk filled his nose as he inhaled deeply. His body responded to the familiar scent that shouldn’t be on his pillow, a pillow that was not cotton soft, but smooth and silky like skin. His mind barely had time to register his thought when the night came back to him in glorified technicolour.
His eyes flew open, registering exactly what and who he was lying on.
“What the fuck.”
Leaping out of his hotel bed like a scalded cat, Greg glared down at the moving pillow with accusing eyes. His mouth dried as those same traitorous eyes devoured the sight before him.
An unrepentant Aaden lounged against the white bed cover, in what could only be described as the sexiest, tightest black briefs Greg had ever seen in his life. He was convinced every Calvin Klein model would look positively puny next to the deliciousness splayed before him. Naked golden skin rippled and stretched for miles while it lovingly encased huge bulging muscles. Intricate tattoos snaked over his upper torso and covered the top of both his biceps. Greg really didn’t get why the guy would wear clothes at all when he looked smoking hot naked.
Fucking hell!
Greg unglued his tongue, careful to keep it inside his lips for fear he’d give in to his baser urge and pounce and lick every delicious tattoo and every inch of skin like a lollipop.
He was so distracted it took Greg a second to register his own state of dress, or should that be undress. His eyes widened in mortification, and his fingers twitched with the urge to cover up. He glanced about, looking for anything to wrap around him when his pale, freckled skin turned a lovely shade of beetroot.
“I wouldn’t bother if I were you. I’ll only have to strip you again. Though that may be more fun with you conscious.” The rumbled threat and waggling eyebrows had his hands lowering to try and cover the growing predicament Aaden’s threat had caused. His own tiny black jockstrap hid diddly squat from Aaden’s predatory gaze.
Could this get any worse?
Greg’s arm’s fluttered mid-air as the full implication of what Aaden had said finally slid past his lust. The onslaught of sudden pictures, pictures that brought the evening back with a vengeance. Dizziness swept through Greg, along with sensations of burning heat peeling his skin from his very body. He raised his hands, unsure whether to cover his ears, eyes, or try to stop the fire from eating him whole. Sweat coated his skin. He could feel it slide down his back, but it did little to put out the flames. The urge to shriek had him suck his lips into his mouth, whimpering as his legs buckled.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Greg knew in his rational mind that he was in a hotel room with Aaden. An Aaden who had moved faster than a cheetah to catch him before he face-planted the floor, and was now holding him close muttering senseless words. Yet he could still feel his skin fleeing, dripping down on to the pyre beneath him. He could feel the sharpness of the wood stab his body. The splinters digging deeper into his bleeding flesh as the fire raged around him burnt him whole.
He knew he would scream if he could just pull in a breath into lungs that felt they’d shrunk to the size of a pea. His whole body vibrated with the shocking rate of his pulse that desperately tried to jump out of his body in an all-fired rush. Hysteria bubbled in his throat, frantically fizzing.
Air whooshed past his gaping, dry lips when Aaden laid him against the soft, cool cotton of the duvet. Strong arms held on tight, encasing his body and letting him know he wasn’t alone as naked warmth slid against him, allowing his mind to come back into the present.
He could see Aaden’s arms flexing as he lowered himself fully on top of him before work-roughened fingertips gently soothed him.
Greg felt the wetness slide down his cheeks as sorrow whelmed inside his heart for something he wasn’t totally sure was real, even if it felt like it was. Aaden continued to gently trace his rough fingertips across his cheeks, chasing the path of Greg’s tears.
Dragging in a sobbing breath, Greg slid his arms around Aaden’s waist, holding on tight, praying he wasn’t having some sort of mental health breakdown. “I’m not going to end up in some padded cell because I’m hallucinating about being flayed alive before being burnt, am I?”
Greg was shocked when Aaden yelled in his face before jumping off him as if he was really was on fire.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Greg cowered back on the white cover, not sure what exactly he’d said when he hadn’t been aware he’d spoken out loud. “Em… er… I’m… er… not sure exactly.”
Goosebumps erupted over his body, chilling his skin as he listened to Aaden stomp across the room muttering and cursing.
The remnants of his fear and the images had him stay put on the bed. He was not sure his legs could hold him up right now. He waited Aaden out, hoping whatever he’d said hadn’t put the kibosh on the sexy time he’d been convinced Aaden had been projecting before he’d gotten all weirded out with shit and strange feelings. Feelings, he had sensed were all too real there for a moment.
Rubbing his tired eyes, he searched his mind for answers to what the fuck had happened to him to make his mind this crazy.
&nbs
p; Maybe I’ve been roofied.
Yeah.
Someone must have spiked my drink with some bloody drug, making me loopy.
It has to be that.
There was no other explanation for that or the same song replaying over and over in my head about blood and souls.
Greg slid back down on to the damp cover, trying to cope when his mind started to replay the picture show of a bloody figure on fire.
Oh, I so do not need to be seeing that shit again.
He scrunched his eyes tight before opening them and forcing them to stay focused on the glorious naked flesh stomping around the room in front of him.
Greg squinted at Aaden, feeling something quiver in the air around him. Greg’s heart trembled when he thought he could hear Aaden in his head talking to his cat Max. The conversation sounded like it was in the distance, making it hard to hear, but it was nevertheless in the back of his mind; he was sure of it.
Good fucking God…… could this night get any weirder?
He spoke without thinking, “Why are you talking to your cat?” Greg asked.
Aaden’s eyes widened, making Greg worry they might fall out of his head if he stretched them any further. Aaden’s lips bumped together, but no words came out as his hands yanked on his hair for several seconds before slapping against his naked thighs.
A look of defeat, Greg was sure that didn’t often cross Aaden’s face, had him think maybe he really had lost the plot. He was distracted by Aaden’s flexing arse as he turned and walked over to the chair in the corner of the room.
Greg sighed in disappointment when he sat.
It was almost like Aaden was trying to put as much distance between them as he could. Well, this is nice. We’re both practically naked, and all we seem to be doing is playing battleships. Whose move was it next to blow the other out of the water? Probably mine. At this rate, I’ll be sunk, and Aaden will be happy to see me disappear into the murky depths of the Irish Sea, never to be seen again.
“Greg.”
The sound of his name had him lifting his eyes from the duvet cover he’d been fiddling with. He shifted and brought the cover up to his chest, needing something to hide behind.
“What?” The defeated tone had his shoulders roll into his body while he pulled the cover closer.
Greg watched as Aaden wet his lips. His eyes darkened before he finally answered.
“I’m not totally sure what is going on here, but I think I need to explain a few things to you. I want you to do me a favour and let me explain it all before you ask any questions, okay?”
The seriousness of Aaden’s tone made Greg’s heart pound alarmingly against his rib cage. Feelings of disquiet knotted his stomach tighter than a Windsor knot. Unsure how to respond, Greg found himself nodding, though how he managed when his head felt like it was an explosive device ready to go off at any moment, sinking one of his own battleships, he didn’t know.
He gripped on to the duvet cover for dear life and held his breath, waiting for the next bomb to hit.
“It’s a long story, and it starts with when I turned fourteen and my parents decided I needed a cat, Max.”
The raspy tone of voice lulled Greg into a world that felt unreal and bizarre as Aaden laid out a story that James Patterson would have been proud of. The urge to interrupt had him chewing unmercifully on his lower lip. He could barely hold his tongue, trying to listen intently to everything Aaden said.
Greg knew his face was normally an open book of his feelings, and the implausibility of his story left him sceptical. Aaden’s next words confirmed he’d read Greg.
“I know it sounds out of this world, but it’s true. I can talk telepathically to Max and vice versa. I know it’s hard to comprehend, but Max is special, a guardian, mine and now yours, it would seem, if you can hear him when I speak to him. I understand you’ll want to talk about this, but please only talk to me if and when you have questions. You can’t tell anyone else about this. It’s important that you understand that.”
A strangled sound escaped past Greg’s lips as he tried to think.
“Are you fucking insane! Who the hell would I be telling about fucking talking cats. Jesus, I can barely get my head around this shit. You throw in the weirdness of feeling like I’m being burnt alive, while my back and lungs feel as if they had been flayed. No, I don’t think I’ll be saying anything. Well, not unless I want a free visit to the funny farm.”
Greg shut his mouth when a strange expression flitted across Aaden’s face at the latter part of what he’d said.
“You know what the weirdness is about, don’t you?” Greg accused. His hands clutched the cover at seeing Aaden move his eyes towards the darkened window.
He jumped off the bed, forgetting his earlier concerns about his nudity, and stomped across the room, getting into Aaden’s face. Anger made him feel brave or stupid. He wasn’t sure which when he grabbed hold of Aaden’s strong jaw with both hands, yanking his head back towards him. The storm brewing in his dark, fathomless eyes had Greg stagger back, and he released Aaden’s chin. He stilled and held his breath as Aaden stood towering over him.
“I don’t want to talk about what you’re referring to as weirdness. I’ve lived with that shit for close to twenty years, and I think it would be better coming from Max. Please believe me, he will be better at explaining it than me.”
The closed expression on Aaden’s face as he strode past Greg had him closing his mouth. He saw the barrier as clearly as if he had erected a wall between them. Sighing internally, Greg yanked at his hair and watched Aaden dress quickly.
“What are you doing? You’re not leaving after dropping that bombshell, surely.” Greg’s eyes bugged out of his head as Aaden continued dressing, making it hard to continue with a coherent thought, never mind speak.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me. I’m having a nervous breakdown here over talking cats and my mind playing silly beggars with me. Making me believe stuff is real when clearly it’s not. And you are causally getting dressed as if you haven’t blown my battleship out of the fucking water.” His strangled voice did nothing to Aaden’s measured movements as he finished dressing, except earn him a raised brow at his battleship comment.
“Arrghhhhhhhhhh”
Greg stomped to the bed, screeching, arms fidgeting at his sides, and plonked himself down he bounced once as he settled. His eyes were glued to Aaden, and he prayed he wouldn’t leave.
Aaden gave him what seemed to be a sad smile and stepped closer. His large, rough palms gently cupped his cold cheeks. His dark eyes held him captive as he slowly lowered his lips to Greg’s. Greg breath burst past his frozen lips. The feather-light brush of warmth against his lips was gone before he could do more than blink.
Greg’s tongue slipped out, desperately trying to capture a small taste, confirming Aaden had actually touched him. The slight taste of mint had him wonder if Aaden had used his toothbrush. The slight grossness of sharing spit was bypassed by the thought of his mouth touching anything that belonged to him, giving him a small thrill of pleasure.
Greg’s eyes hooded with lust as Aaden bent over him, getting closer as if he was going to kiss him again. He kept his sky-blue eyes locked on Aaden’s mouth to make sure he didn’t miss the moment this time. Soft plumpness caressed his lips, offering seductive heat that had Greg opening and allowing Aaden to deepen their connection.
Taking what he offered, Greg shuddered at the feel of Aaden’s tongue snaking into his mouth, devouring and conquering his own. Their duelling tongues had Greg withering on the cotton, unable to move as large firm hands held him captive, allowing Aaden to dominate him in the most deliriously wonderful way. The first soft, feathery kiss was obliterated by the hard and dirty one he was now getting. His body pulsed with excitement. The small black jockstrap could hardly contain the pleasure weeping from him.
Aaden’s mouth encouraged him to respond to every stroke and slide of his wicked tongue and made Greg groan in drugged pleasure. With
ering, Greg tried to stand and move forward so he could get friction on his needy body.
Disappointment had him groaning in frustration. He desperately wanted to get closer to the heat pouring off Aaden, but his large hands held him imprisoned. Aaden’s musky fragrance combined with being dominated left him breathless and as hard as steel.
Whimpering Greg chased Aaden’s swollen, plump lips as he pulled back, his eyes never leaving Aaden’s.
“Shush, my red beauty.”
Hope flared fast in Greg’s chest when Aaden moved closer only to lay his forehead against Greg’s, as if he was collecting himself. Greg was gratified when he felt gushing breaths heat his dampened forehead as Aaden’s large hands clenched tighter. The desire, Greg was sure, had the air sparking between them, zinging and bouncing off everywhere they touched.
He felt Aaden shift and start to pull away before a small tender kiss was placed on his sweaty forehead. The feeling of being cherished had his eyes stinging. Blinking, he fought the urge to hide as Aaden released him and stepped back.
“You need some time to think about this, us. I’d let what happened tonight sink in first, and then you need to talk to Max before we do anything that you might regret. You need to remember that while you’re thinking about all this, there will be no one else in your bed or touching that hot little body. Do you understand?”
Greg watched in fascination as Aaden moved closer, getting into his face, his intense gaze holding Greg enslaved.
“I’m willing to give you some thinking time before it goes any further because mark my words, that when it does happen, and it will, you’ll be mine, forever.”
The quiet threat behind those words had Greg shivering, though he wasn’t sure if it was in fear or excitement at belonging to Aaden forever. Not that he really believed in forever. Though it is a nice idea, no one gets forever.
