Paranormal's Love 11 - Hot-Blooded Alligator

by Charlie Richards

  “Put your cock in me, Collin,” Tristan ordered.

  Collin moaned, desperately wanting to do just that. Instead, he shook his head. “Not ready. Another finger.”

  Tristan shook his head sharply. “No. Now,” he insisted. “I like the burn. The pain is part of the pleasure.”

  Taking the man at his word, Collin jerked a nod. He slid his fingers free, grabbed the base of his prick, and nudged it against Tristan’s hole. Rocking forward, he pressed hard. His breath caught in his throat as his lover’s guardian muscle gave way and the head of his cock popped inside the hottest, silkiest, tightest ass he’d ever experienced.

  Collin groaned and froze, something important teasing at the edge of his memory. “Fuck,” he snarled.

  “That’s the idea,” Tristan responded, rocking backward, impaling himself halfway on Collin’s shaft. Groaning, he muttered, “Yeah, fuck me.”

  Beads of sweat broke out on Collin’s forehead, dripping down his temple. He struggled to catch his breath as he moved his hand to Tristan’s hips, holding the other man in place.

  “Wait,” Collin said with a whine. “Shit, double fuck.” He gasped, then managed a complete sentence. “Not wearing a condom.”

  Tristan’s grin appeared feral as he peered over his shoulder at him. “Don’t need one.” He winked. “I’m a shifter, remember? You can’t give me anything.”

  With the last of his scrambled brain cells, Collin panted out, “You said I’m your mate. Will this bond us or something like that?”

  Chuckling, Tristan heaved backward with more strength than Collin had given him credit for. He shouted hoarsely as the smaller man slipped from his hold and finished impaling himself on Collin’s cock. Seemingly frozen there on his knees, Collin watched in the best kind of agony as Tristan rocked forward, his sucking ass muscles drawing partway off his erection before Tristan impaled himself again.

  This time, Tristan stopped. He panted softly as he whispered, “When the time comes, I will fuck you into the ground and bite your neck.” Looking back at him, his dark eyes blazing, Tristan finished, “That is how I will claim you, mate. Now, fuck me. I’ve waited a long time to end this dry spell.”

  Collin growled, making a noise he didn’t know he was capable of. He regained his grip on Tristan’s hips, jerked backward, then pounded into his lover’s ass. He set up a punishing pace, slamming into the smaller man over and over with more force than he ever remembered taking another, a possessive rage seeming to take control.

  Through gritted teeth, Collin snarled, “You. Will. Not. Speak. Of. Another. Have. Another. Mine.” With each word, he slammed into the smaller man, giving him everything he had.

  Beneath him, Collin listened to Tristan’s gasping moans and litany of curses in various languages as he took him. Sweat slicked their skin, making it difficult for Collin to hang onto him. He dug his fingers into Tristan harder, the idea that he would be leaving marks oddly gratifying. He’d never wanted to mark a lover, claim a lover—hell, he rarely even wanted to fuck a man twice. This man, though, was different, and damn Fate and the mate crap he’d overheard others talk about.

  Tristan’s howl rent the air, the sound one of pleasure and completion. Collin felt his lover’s channel ripple around his shaft once, twice, then clamp onto him in a near stranglehold. Collin’s balls drew up and he lost it. His cock spurted, emptying his seed deep inside another man for the first time.

  Black spots danced across Collin’s vision as he soared on blissful endorphins of release. Losing the ability to hold himself up, he collapsed over Tristan’s back. He wrapped his arms around his torso, driving the other man to the dock. He felt his cock jerk and twitch where it was still sheathed in his lover’s body, oozing out a last shot of cum.

  Groaning in pleasure, Collin buried his face in the crook of Tristan’s neck. He nuzzled the smooth expanse of skin until he came upon a scar just above his left shoulder blade. He licked up and down the mark, enjoying the shiver that worked through the man beneath him.

  “How’d you get this?” Collin mumbled absently. “It looks like it could have come from an animal bite or a jagged edged knife.”

  “Alpha bit me when I was kicked out of the congregation.”

  Collin frowned. “The what?”

  “Congregation.” Tristan turned his head and raised one brow as he stared at him awkwardly. “The group of alligator shifters I was born into,” he explained.

  “Damn. Why’d he do that?”

  Tristan sighed and laid his head on the plank beneath him. “I was born albino.” His eyelids lowered to half-mast. “I’m surprised they let me live with them as long as they did.”

  Lifting his head, Collin moved his arms and braced himself on his elbows. “What do you mean? How old were you?”

  “Seven.”

  Collin gaped, shock knifing through him. He jerked just enough for his softened shaft to slip from the other man’s body. He heard Tristan hiss softly, but that was his lover’s only outward acknowledgement of their separation.

  “Seven?” Collin whispered in horror as he flopped to the side and braced himself on one elbow. He placed his hand on Tristan’s back, for some reason needing some form of contact. “Didn’t your parents try to stop him?”

  Tristan snorted. “Alligator congregations are matriarchal, so my alpha was female.” He shrugged as he explained. “Besides, it was at my parent’s request. My mother had finally managed to get pregnant again, so they didn’t want to waste any more resources on a clearly subpar child.”

  “That’s fucking nuts,” Collin muttered, scowling. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He’d almost offered the man his own family, except, he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t out. He couldn’t be out, either. He had responsibilities. “Damn.”

  Misunderstanding, Tristan rolled onto his back and lifted one brow. “I’m done talking about that.” He reached over and cupped Collin’s mostly soft shaft, causing him to grunt. “My ass hasn’t been filled enough, yet, today,” he rumbled as he stroked firmly.

  Collin gasped and his cock twitched, his abs clenching. To his shock, his prick began to fill as Tristan slowly jacked him. He moaned as arousal surged through him anew. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a quick recovery time.

  “Holy shit,” Collin groaned. He struggled to pull in a deep breath as he flopped onto his back and stared up at his new lover. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

  Tristan smiled with satisfaction, obviously pleased with his response. “Helping us enjoy ourselves.”

  After Tristan worked Collin to full mast, he abruptly released him. Collin growled in discontent.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “Because, this time,” Tristan replied. “I want you just as naked as me.”

  Gaping at the slender, sexy man, Collin stared in shock as Tristan made quick work of stripping him.

  Obviously comfortable in his nakedness, Tristan easily maneuvered to Collin’s feet and yanked off his boots. The shifter’s prick bobbed between his legs, also already hard as he knelt at Collin’s feet and dragged off his pants and socks. Tristan slid his palms up Collin’s hairy legs, and he shivered.

  Grinning smugly, Tristan continued up Collin’s legs. Collin groaned when he bypassed his cock, scraping his nails along either side of the sensitive vee of his thighs. Tristan then placed his hands on his stomach and leaped forward to settle his ass on Collin’s thighs. Their cock and balls pressed together.

  Collin let out a startled moan as he reached up and gripped his lover’s waist.

  Tristan sighed. His eyelids sliding to half-mast at whatever he was feeling. Letting out a long, slow breath, Tristan rocked slowly, pressing their groins against each other.

  Groaning, Collin slid his hands around to cup his lover’s ass, encouraging the gentle rocking. Tingles spreading across the sensitive skin of his shaft caused him to jerk and twitch and his balls rolled at the pressure.

  After a few deep breathes to
get himself under control, Collin registered the petting hands of his lover. Tristan skimmed his fingertips along the grooves of Collin’s abs, tracing the lines of his six-pack. He sucked in his stomach at the gentle touches, flexing the muscles.

  “Very nice,” Tristan murmured, obviously appreciating Collin’s physique.

  “Thanks,” Collin replied, gasping to get the word out. “Worked hard for them.”

  Tristan rubbed along them again with one hand as he pushed Collin’s shirt up with the other. He threaded his fingers through Collin’s chest hair, tugging and scratching. The sensual petting caused his nipples to bead and goose bumps to break out across his skin.

  Collin groaned at the sensations. “Tristan,” he pleaded, his cock leaking a bead of pre-cum. “Please.”

  “Mmm, all you had to do was ask.”

  The next thing Collin knew, Tristan levered up on his knees, gripped Collin’s prick, and sat back on it. Collin groaned as his aching erection was once again engulfed in the warmest sheath he’d ever experienced.

  As Tristan began to ride him, one thought pumped through Collin’s mind before it blanked with pleasure—what would it take to have this any time he wanted?

  Chapter Five

  Tristan slowly inhaled and exhaled as he listened at Bud Wallice’s door. He took that time to not only discern where the human was inside his suite, but also to get his head in the right space.

  Having found his mate, having felt the human claim his body, Tristan had been hard pressed to watch him drive away the evening before. His alligator had hissed and snarled in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t like there’d been anything he could do about it. His human mate had work to do, which included finding out more about the two humans that were in town filing the missing person’s report. The wife was understandable, but it was still unclear on the other human. Was he a business partner or what?

  Shaking his head, Tristan focused once more on the room. Nothing. That never boded well. Stepping off to the side, he set the tray down on a hall table. Tristan stood with his back to the wall, reached over, and unlocked the door.

  As soon as he pushed, swinging it open a few feet, a chair leg came flying through the opening.

  Tristan lifted a brow and watched as that action was followed up by an arm swinging a second table leg. Left and right and back again swung the hands holding the make-shift club.

  After a few more passes, Bud slunk out the doorway.

  Quick as lightning, Tristan executed a high heel kick, nailing the man in the temple. Bud went down like a ton of bricks. Tristan placed the ball of his foot on the weapon still clutched in his hand and slid it out of his grip before bending down to check his pulse.

  Steady and strong.

  Tristan shook his head as he hefted Bud up and over his shoulder. It was times like this that he appreciated being a shifter. Otherwise, he’d never be able to lift this human’s fat ass.

  Striding into the room, Tristan dumped Bud’s unconscious form on the bed. Next, he returned to the hall, grabbed the tray of food, and walked back into the room. He kicked the door closed, then set the tray on the table.

  Returning to the bed, Tristan crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Bud. After a sigh, he again checked Bud’s pulse. He hadn’t thought he’d nailed the bastard that hard, but he was human, after all.

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed when the man’s breathing hitched. Or, he could be playing possum. Turning away, he dismissed the idea he’d had of calling the gargoyle clutch’s doctor, Perseus. Instead, he crossed to the table and began setting out the food.

  “I know you’re awake,” Tristan stated. “I heard your breathing change. Come eat before it gets cold.” When Bud didn’t move, Tristan narrowed his eyes and focused on the bed. “Very well. I will be gone for thirty minutes. When I return, the food had best be gone or you won’t get breakfast.”

  Just as Tristan had suspected, Bud opened his eyes and slowly sat up. After he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rubbed his temple. He winced as he scowled at Tristan.

  “What did you hit me with?” Bud grumbled.

  Lifting one brow, Tristan settled into the chair opposite where he’d set up the food. “My foot.”

  Bud’s eyes widened as he slowly stood and warily walked toward the table. “But you’re so short,” he muttered, easing into the seat and reaching for the cup of coffee.

  Tristan just smirked.

  “What’s your thing? Martial arts?” Bud asked, setting the cup down and picking up his fork. “Cage fighting? Kickboxing?”

  While Tristan didn’t know what cage fighting was, kickboxing seemed pretty self-explanatory. “An older form of martial arts. Yes.” If Bud was going to start a conversation with him, and he did it politely, Tristan would answer.

  “It’s a shame you’re working for them,” Bud said. “What are they paying you? I bet I could pay you more.” He lifted a piece of toast to his mouth and took a bite, a smarmy smile on his face.

  Tristan just managed to keep the look of disgust off his face. Keeping his tone cool, he replied, “This is not about money, Bud.”

  Bud snorted. “What then? Justice for monsters?” He scoffed, reaching for his coffee again. “Wait. I know. You’re fucking one of them.” He lifted his other hand and waved his empty fork as he gulped his coffee. “I’ll give her...or him,” he added, his eyes narrowing, “sanctuary. I’ll make certain none of our hunters find out.”

  “Really?”

  Nodding, Bud added, “All you gotta do is help me break out of here.” Leaning closer, he continued, “I can save your lover, or he or she can die right alongside all the other creatures.”

  Tristan almost sneered in his face. Instead, he licked his lips and raised one eyebrow. “This is much bigger than the gargoyles suspect. Isn’t it?” He remembered something he’d overheard while sunning by the pond and, pretending to muse out loud, he murmured, “I heard about a gargoyle growing up with shifters. Even I know that’s a little odd. The guy didn’t even know what to call himself until he met a vampire that was able to give him an answer.” He lifted a brow in question. “Was that the work of your hunters? Separating a child from his parents?”

  Bud used his fork to scrape his eggs onto his toast. He shrugged one shoulder while doing it. “Maybe. Sounds like their style.”

  Biting back what he really wanted to say, Tristan cocked his head and asked, “A Mister Canaan Bell is in town with your wife. He wouldn’t be able to help you, would he?”

  “Canaan’s here?” Bud tapped the back of his fork against his palm for a few seconds, glancing around nervously. “How do you know?”

  Tristan dipped his head and peered at the human through narrowed eyes. He let the silence linger, his gaze sweeping over Bud, as if searching for something from the other man. Finally, he jerked a nod.

  “You’ve been reported missing,” he admitted. “I heard a detective was here at the estate yesterday. Someone named Canaan Bell has been asking questions.”

  Licking his lips, the scent of eager excitement flooded the room. “Y-yeah. You could, uh, get a message to him?”

  “Probably,” Tristan hedged. He gave Bud a suitably wary look. “And you’d keep my partner safe?”

  Bud licked his upper lip, a gleam entering his eyes. His scent turned acrid as he lied, “Absolutely.”

  “Your people don’t have a problem with gays, you said?”

  “Not at all.”

  That, at least, rang true. It seemed it was just paranormals they hated.

  Tristan nodded, furrowing his brows. “So, even though shifters or gargoyles live their lives in hiding, just wanting to be left alone to raise their kids and love their partners, you have a problem with it?”

  Choking on the big bite of food he’d stuffed into his mouth, Bud grabbed his coffee and downed the last of it. As he struggled to regain his ability to breathe normally, let alone talk, he poured more coffee into his cup. Once he wasn’t coughing with every breath
he took, he glared at Tristan.

  “They take humans as their partners. They defile them!” Bud roared, then began coughing again. After he got himself back under control, he snarled, “We cannot allow them to continue to reproduce.”

  “But using them to make money is okay?”

  Bud snorted. “Yeah.”

  “So the hunters find them, kill or capture them, then sell them to entertainment hosts, such as yourself,” Tristan mused softly. “Then they use that money to buy more guns and supplies to capture more paranormals.”

  Sopping up his over medium eggs with yet another piece of toast, Bud nodded. “Yeah, sure. I guess,” he said around a mouthful of bacon.

  Damn, the human could shovel it away.

  “Do the hunters call themselves that? Hunters?”

  Bud shook his head. “No. I heard one call another Knight Charlie, but I don’t know anything else about their order or whatever.” He grinned. “I just like the money their prizes bring in from tourists.”

  “Is Mister Canaan Bell part of it?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Bud rested one hand on the chair’s arm and one hand around his mug, which he slid to the edge of the table. “Sort of. I don’t think he goes with them to capture anything or nothing. Not like those guys with me when you caught me. He’s a suit. A lawyer for them.”

  “Ah, of course,” Tristan mumbled.

  Tristan rose and began gathering dishes. He needed to speak with Maelgwn immediately...well, maybe after calling Collin. His shunning of the cell phone the gargoyle Raymond had offered suddenly seemed a mistake. Maybe he’d talk with Maelgwn then Raymond and see if the phone offer was still open.

  Looking forward to hearing his mate’s voice again, even if just through a phone, Tristan didn’t pay enough attention to Bud. Fortunately, all he did was grab Tristan’s wrist when he went to put the lid on the tray. Focusing on the human, he cocked his head in silent question.

  “How long do you think it’ll be until you can get me out of here?” Bud asked. “You’ll do it, right?”

  Tristan chose his words carefully as he slowly replied, “I’ll send a message, but I couldn’t even guess at a timeframe.” He forced a tight smile. “That really depends on you and your friends.”