by Kallysten
Her voice took on a pleading note, “Please, Blake. Just tell me this one thing. So I’ll know we can still talk to each other.”
For long moments, he remained as stiff as a marble statue within her arms. Eventually, though, he started to relax, and when he did, quiet words rose in the bedroom.
“You’re…on your knees,” he breathed, and as tiny as his voice was, Kate could still hear the tremor in each word. “I…I really don’t like to see you on your knees.”
He didn’t explain why, but Kate could fill in the blanks. He must have seen that image of her on her knees back when he was a prisoner, and maybe Kate didn’t need to know the specifics. Maybe she didn’t even want to. But at least, she now knew one way not to make him uncomfortable. She unfurled one leg, then the other, until she was sitting behind Blake, his body tight against hers in the V formed by her open legs.
“There.” She pressed the word like a kiss at the nape of Blake’s neck, and he shivered against her. “Better?”
He nodded once.
“All you have to do is tell me. Tell us. We can’t guess this kind of stuff, Blake. All we want is to make you happy, but you have to help us.”
Again, a long moment passed in silence before Blake spoke, still as softly. “I’ll…try. It’s the best I can right now.”
Kate held him a little more tightly. She didn’t know how much longer she would have until Marc came out of the bathroom; it certainly wouldn’t be enough to start anything. But at least she could let Blake know what else she would have liked from him.
“There’s a lot you give me,” she murmured. “Just being with you, having you back…that’s more than I thought I would have again.”
Even as she said the words, she realized how true they were and that she would have been selfish to ask for more when Blake had already taken this small step forward—so small and yet, so meaningful. She couldn’t ask for more, not now. As it turned out, she didn’t have to.
“I know…I know what else you want from me,” Blake said. For the first time since he had sat on the bed, he reached toward her and patted her hand awkwardly where it rested on his chest.
Every word was so full of pain that it was like a blow. She couldn’t bear to let him continue.
“Blake, you don’t—”
“Wait, let me…” He sighed. “I never wanted this for you. Never wanted you to be hurt because of me.”
Unable to stand not seeing his face any longer, Kate moved to sit next to him. She caressed his cheek lightly until he turned to look at her.
“Hey. I’m not hurt. And I’m right where I want to be, with you and Marc.” She tried to push a smile to her lips even though she was closer to tears. “Remember, you’re the one who made me admit this was what I wanted. Being in love with the two of you used to be scary, but not anymore. And if you need time…” She swallowed her fears that, even if she died of old age decades from that moment, it still wouldn’t be enough time. “I can give you time. Just as long as you don’t pull away from me.”
She leaned forward as she finished, slowly enough that he would know what her intentions were. He closed his eyes. The small jerk away that she expected when she laid her mouth on his didn’t come, and she could have wept for joy when he caressed her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. And then wept from frustration when Blake pulled back and turned away.
Marc stood by the bathroom door, watching them, a mirror image of the way Blake had watched him and Kate earlier.
“It’s getting late,” Marc said after clearing his throat. “We should catch some sleep. It’s been a long drive.” He offered Kate a small, apologetic smile. “And I’m sorry, the water’s running cold.”
She had a feeling he was apologizing for more than that. She smiled back, shaking her head. “I’ll clean up in the morning. I’ll just brush my teeth for now.”
She squeezed Blake’s shoulder before rising from the bed. She tried to tell herself that they had made progress tonight, but once she was alone in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, she wasn’t so certain anymore.
* * * *
Now that they were alone, Marc looked at Blake and tried to figure out what was going on in his head. He wanted to ask how Blake was, but that was the best way to antagonize him. Blake would probably lie anyway. His scent, on the other hand, never lied, and at that moment it was a tangled mass of confusion and wariness.
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Blake shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.
Marc didn’t believe a word of it, but he asked anyway, “Fine enough to give her what she wants?”
A shrug was the extent of Blake’s answer. To Marc, it looked very much like a no. Marc came to stand in front of Blake, squatted down, and rested a hand on Blake’s knee.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said quietly. “Not the sex, and not the talking. All right?”
Blake’s lips stretched on a thin smile. “When have you ever known me not to want sex?”
Tightening his hand for a light squeeze, Marc refused to take the bait. “You know what I mean. And if you think about it for a minute, you’ll also know that it’s not really sex she wants. She wants things to be back to the way they were before. But forcing you to do anything won’t help that.”
If Blake understood what Marc was saying, he didn’t show it. He swung his legs onto the bed, and slid up toward the headboard, kicking the covers away to slide between the sheets. He lay close to the edge of the bed; too close for anyone to be on that side of him. Marc climbed into bed, hesitating for a moment about where to lie. Kate returned, wearing men’s boxers and a t-shirt like Marc; she looked at the bed, and her expression darkened when she saw that their usual sleeping arrangements, with Blake in the center, would not work tonight. When she approached the bed, she slid in on the other side, motioning for Marc to move toward the center.
The bed was so wide that, once Marc was in the middle of it, neither of his lovers, right on the edges, touched him anymore. He had rarely felt so lonely.
Chapter 6
The mattress shifted. Blake jerked awake. His eyes opened but he remained very still. The room—hotel room, not cell—was bathed in semi-darkness. The heavy drapes stopped the sunlight, but above them a line of light reflected against the cream walls. Blake listened intently, almost surprised that his own heartbeat wasn’t thumping in his ears. Steps, on the other side of the bed. Feet on carpet, tiptoeing away. Very, very carefully, he turned his head toward the sound, and caught a glimpse of Kate before she disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed behind her with a light snick. Blake looked at Marc next to him; he was still asleep.
Blake thought back again on what Kate had said and what she hadn’t quite said. He also thought about the things he wished he could give her, the things he had suggested, so long ago, but never been able to deliver. He tried to imagine himself joining her now. He was sure she would welcome him with open arms.
The only problem was, the mere thought of going to her paralyzed him. Any gesture toward her could only end one way: with someone being punished.
And knowing he was only falling back into old thought patterns did not help in the slightest.
There was one way, though: one thing he could do. If he and Marc started without her, she would certainly join them when she returned. Maybe, then, it would be easier.
Maybe.
* * * *
There might have been better ways to wake up than with a talented mouth and tongue playing over one’s cock and balls, but Marc didn’t know what they were nor did he care very much.
He remained perfectly immobile as he slowly drifted out of a dreamless sleep and into wakefulness, but somehow Blake seemed to know he was awake now. The long, broad swipes of that clever tongue swept from the root of Marc’s dick to the tip and back to his sack and then suddenly gave way to shorter, teasing licks and the scraping of blunt teeth over sensitive flesh. Marc groaned a
t that, instinctively arching up, wanting more, and finally receiving it when Blake’s mouth opened and welcomed him inside.
“Yes,” he hissed in a long, drawn breath, his hand shooting to Blake’s head. Blake stilled for a moment, but when all Marc’s fingers did was tangle in his hair, he resumed his actions and continued taking more of Marc’s cock in, his tongue playing along the underside in a maddening rhythm.
Maddening seemed to be the theme of the day. Before Blake had slid all the way down to the root, he started moving up again, still as slowly as before, his hand now curled around the base of Marc’s cock, holding it in place after a swipe of his tongue along the slit and the tight ring of his lips finally freed the tip.
Marc briefly raised his head from the pillow to discover that Blake was grinning at him. Marc glowered. He recognized the game. “Bastard.”
“Learned from the best, didn’t I?”
With that, Blake’s smirking mouth plunged back down. But while his hand remained fisted around Marc’s hard, needy cock, his lips latched onto a much more innocent patch of skin over Marc’s right hip. He sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface before laving the area with excruciatingly slow licks. Marc shifted under the onslaught, both aroused and frustrated, trying to get that cruel hand to give him some friction with little result.
He froze as a fang grazed over that same spot on his hip that Blake had been focusing on. More slow swipes of a caressing tongue, and Blake moved to inflict the same torture on the inside of Marc’s thigh. Blake’s next chosen spot was just on the side of Marc’s left nipple; the one after that, an inch or so beneath his belly button, with Blake’s cheek brushing against Marc’s cock all along, causing Marc to groan as his length twitched and demanded more attention than Blake’s firm but immobile grip.
The attention came soon after, in the form of tight lips closing around Marc’s gland again. Slow licks followed, and Marc braced himself, one hand tightening in Blake’s hair while the other fisted in the sheets. Marc knew by now what would be next and craved the sensation even though he was anxious about it. He couldn’t help thrusting up as he waited for that fang to brush against him, and was almost surprised when Blake let him slide in as far as he could go. The fangs were there, though, and Marc could feel them, on each side of his cock, touching without pricking. It was all Marc could do not to keep moving.
He had to stop, however. He had to let Blake keep control. Even that involuntary thrust had been chancy. It could have tripped Blake back into painful memories, and Marc would have no one to blame but himself if that happened. It didn’t matter that his mind was murky with pleasure offered and denied, and he was too close to coming to be able to think about anything else other than whether the razor-sharp fangs would cut him and whether he wanted them to or not. He had to remember. He had to let Blake remain in control, however odd it might feel. He had to—
“Oh…”
Blake’s mouth stilled at Kate’s quiet little sigh. Marc grunted and struggled not to thrust up again. He had to blink several times before he could focus on her, standing by the door, a towel draped around her and a second, smaller one in her hands, damp from drying her hair. Fresh from the shower, she should have smelled of the perfumed soap and shampoo she went to great lengths to acquire. Already, though, tendrils of lust were wafting from her as she observed them, her gray eyes turned to coal by desire. It was hardly the first time she had walked in on them like this; sometimes, Marc wondered if she left the bed before they did in hopes of being treated to just such a show when she returned.
“Don’t stop,” she said in a rush of air.
But Blake was already sitting up. Marc’s cock made a quiet popping noise when it slipped past Blake’s lips. Marc couldn’t suppress a groan at the loss of contact. He looked at Blake, ready to protest, but the words disappeared when he met Blake’s gaze. Marc frowned briefly, wondering if he was imagining things, before following Blake’s eyes back to Kate.
She was shaking her head, an expression of guilt like a mask over her features. “I didn’t mean for you to…”
She stopped when Marc raised a hand toward her, inviting her to join them. He really hoped he was interpreting Blake’s glances correctly. Kate blushed, the color spreading down her neck and to the top of her chest where the contrast with the white towel made her skin appear an even deeper red. Blushing or not, she didn’t hesitate before coming forward. She dropped the two towels to the floor before reaching for Marc’s hand and allowing him to pull her onto the bed. She made a move to kneel at Marc’s side, but after her eyes flicked toward Blake, she sat instead, her legs curled at her side.
“I didn’t mean for you to stop,” she said again, no louder than a whisper.
The words were meant for Blake, and he answered them with a tiny smile. “Not stop. Just pause. So you can join.”
It was as close to saying he wanted Kate as Blake had come in what felt like a lifetime. Marc held still, waiting to see if Blake would take things further—if he would dare to take them further. Kate wanted it, wanted him, and Blake couldn’t ignore that any more than Marc could; her scent, if nothing else, was a dead giveaway. And yet, days and nights passed, and Blake never reached for her first; he always waited for someone to take his hand and place it on Kate. The old rule of, if you want something, take it for yourself didn’t seem to apply where Kate was concerned.
Sometimes, Marc wondered how long Blake would resist if neither Kate nor Marc helped him with that first touch. He almost wanted to try, but Kate was already hurt by Blake’s reluctance to touch her. Marc couldn’t bear to add to it. Nor could he bear to wait any longer when Kate was already trembling with desire and no one had touched her yet.
“Come here,” he murmured, and tugged gently on her hand to draw her down alongside him.
Her body scorched him everywhere they touched, even warmer from a shower that, as always, had been as hot as she could take. He moved his arm to curl around her and drew her closer still, until the soft curves of her breasts were pressing against his side and chest.
“Always so warm,” he murmured as he mouthed kisses along her cheek and jaw. “So soft…”
A tiny, almost mewling sound rose from her throat as she turned her face toward him, seeking his mouth. Marc flicked his tongue over her lips to appease her then raised his head to look at Blake.
Still kneeling between Marc’s thighs, Blake hadn’t moved at all. He was watching Marc and Kate with a wide-eyed look, his expression and scent reflecting emotions so fleeting that Marc could have thought he was imagining them if they hadn’t been the exact same things Blake always felt when he watched Marc and Kate together.
The fear, especially, was getting harder and harder for Marc to swallow.
“Are you just going to watch?” Marc asked, and the words came out as a rumble.
A shiver shook Blake’s body. He licked his lips, and his fingers curled over his own thighs as though he were trying to stop himself from reaching out. His eyes were still wide and needy. Wary.
Marc struggled to stifle his growing anger. He was angry at their situation and the demons that had caused it, but he knew Blake would think the anger was directed at him if he noticed it, and that wouldn’t help anything.
“Kate said she didn’t want you to stop,” he pointed out, keeping his voice as level as he could muster. Blake was already beginning to lean toward Marc’s cock again when Marc added, “But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind it if you used that talented mouth of yours on her instead.”
Each word was carefully measured. No orders, not ever again, even if it would have been easy to fall back to what was only normal: a Sire directing his Childe. If things had been different and Blake had never been taken from them, this might have been a game they would have played: Marc guiding Blake’s hands, mouth, and cock as he pleasured Kate. It would never happen this way now, but Marc could make suggestions—or at least he hoped he could.
Blake froze again, his eyes flitting between Marc’s
face and Kate’s. He didn’t say a word, and that was never a good sign; from what Marc guessed—and Blake refused to confirm it or talk about any of it—his jailers had forbidden him to talk unless asked a question.
It was Kate’s turn to shiver against Marc. “He doesn’t need to do that,” she said in an entirely unconvincing murmur. “That’s not—”
Marc shushed her with a kiss, and while she was too distracted to protest, he pulled her closer, dragging her higher on the bed with him as he sat up and leaned back against the pillows.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled when he broke the kiss, and rather than answering, he demonstrated his intentions.
It had always amazed him that Kate could fight demons as well as she did when she was only a few inches over five-feet tall, her body slim and toned from countless hours of training. Now that he pulled her to lie on top of him with her back to his chest, she seemed to weigh nothing. He held her to him with an arm curled around her waist, his fingers entwining with hers. His other hand stroked her hip and thigh, guiding her legs apart.
With her temple pressed against his cheek, Marc could feel her skin grow warmer against his, and he had no trouble imagining what she looked like, blushing and open, her body cradled against Marc’s and the length of his cock pressing against her folds. Better than imagining, though, all he had to do was look at Blake’s face and the hunger reflected in his gaze, to know what a tempting tableau they made.
The only question that remained was whether they would be tempting enough. Blake was still only looking at them, and Marc didn’t dare say anything more that Blake might interpret as an order.
“Blake?” Kate said in a tiny voice, and in that simple word she still managed to cram all her desire—and all her sadness. Her fingers tightened over Marc’s. “If you don’t want to…” Her throat made a wet sound as she swallowed hard. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”
