Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  Standing, stretching his arms over his head, Randall collapsed back down on himself with a smile. “I absolutely would. Let me get changed. I’m a mess.” He had dust on his nose, his hair was in wild waves, and his shirt was untucked. If Victor didn’t have a schedule for the day, and if Edwin wasn’t sniffing around under his desk, Victor would have enjoyed the chance to engage Randall in a repeat of yesterday’s adventures.

  Unfortunately, he’d put off going into his office for three days now. He probably shouldn’t continue delaying. “I’ll meet you in the garage. I have some work to collect,” Victor said. He reached out to trail his fingers over Randall’s nose, ridding him of the dust.

  Said nose wrinkled under Victor’s touch, and Randall lightly hooked his fingers into the front of Victor’s shirt, pulling him in closer. “Yes, sir, boss,” Randall murmured with a highly unprofessional grin.

  “Is this part of our ten percent allotted unprofessional time?” Victor asked. “Do we have a schedule for that?”

  “I really haven’t done the math, professor.” Randall tugged him in for a light kiss. Victor could feel Randall’s smile pressed against his own. “Should I do extra work to make up for it?”

  “Maybe we’ll have to raise the percentage to fifteen.” Victor kissed Randall again, forgetting about work for the moment.

  “Ew. Guys, I’m still in here.” Edwin’s voice came from the corner. Neither he nor Randall even looked over.

  “And you’re naked. Shift back or put pants on, Ed,” Randall sighed, shaking his head. Victor, for his part, raised an incredulous eyebrow at Edwin. The man was naked, and yet he was complaining about their incredibly chaste kissing.

  “I had to change back so I could tell you you’re gross.” Edwin’s logic was clearly infallible. But a few moments later, the blond wolf nudged past them, nipping at their knees as he trotted out into the hallway, leaving them alone at last.

  “I’m getting him a collar with a jingly bell,” Randall murmured, arms sliding around Victor, nipping lightly at Victor’s lower lip. “A big, loud bell.”

  Victor restrained a smile and pressed a light kiss to Randall’s nose before reluctantly pulling away. “Come on,” he reminded him. “Work calls, and as much as I want to indulge in more of our ten percent of time, we should be on our way.”

  “Fifteen,” Randall corrected, but he gathered up a stack of books, carefully marking his place in the one he’d been so intently studying. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Randall left, and Victor did the same after he’d found the paperwork he needed to take into the office. He got changed into clothes a tad more professional than the old shirt he was wearing and passed by the living room to check on Anthony. The television was on, and Anthony had fallen asleep on the couch, a blanket falling off his shoulders. Perhaps it was paranoid, but Victor took a few seconds to check that Anthony was breathing.

  After he’d confirmed that and tucked the covers more closely around Anthony, he went down to the garage. Randall arrived at the same time he did, and they shared a smile as Victor found the keys to the car he liked the most. Though he wasn’t big on driving, he did have an appreciation for vintage cars, and the black Rolls-Royce Phantom III that barely got any use was one of his favorites.

  When Victor looked up from unlocking the doors, he found Randall standing, staring, expression extremely hard to read. He seemed a little torn, and Victor wasn’t sure what could have affected him. “Is everything all right?” Victor asked him, frowning. “We can take a different car if you like.”

  “What time did you say we needed to be there?” Randall asked, voice a bit thin.

  Victor checked his watch. “Er, about ten minutes ago,” he replied guiltily. He abhorred being late, but sometimes it was unavoidable. “Why?”

  Randall stalked over to him, his movements liquid and predator smooth. Without another word, he grasped Victor’s newly donned tie and hauled him back, pushing him to sprawl against the hood of the car. With a growl, Randall pinned him there with a kiss, slow and deep, fingers already fumbling for the belt of Victor’s trousers.

  It seemed the full moon had effects on the wolf sex drive too.

  “Then we’re already late,” Randall muttered, biting Victor’s lower lip sharply. “Can you be quiet? I’m very sure sound will carry.”

  “Actually, the garage is soundproofed,” Victor managed to say. His pants were getting dragged down while he lay on the hood of a very old, very expensive car, and Randall was flush with the effects of the moon. Victor was surprised he could even speak. “My grandfather used to fix cars down here. It’s a very noisy business.”

  “Good.” Randall sank to his knees, lips sliding along the outline of Victor’s cock through his boxers. “Then I don’t have to worry.”

  “Not at all.” Victor’s voice came out more like a squeak than the smooth tone he’d wanted to go for. Then his boxers were gone, and Victor had gotten hard so quickly it made his head spin. Randall didn’t waste any time, didn’t go for a slow buildup. His mouth was hot and wet around Victor, his fingers digging into Victor’s hips, pushing him back farther against the car.

  All worry about possibly denting or scratching the car flew from Victor’s mind. If they damaged it, it might just be worth it for a memory like this.

  Randall’s cheeks were hollowed out, his eyes fallen half closed, lips tight around Victor’s cock as he bobbed his head, taking Victor in deeper. And then he was pulling Victor toward him, moving with him with a hum of pleasure, like he was so desperate to get more he couldn’t think of anything else. The physical sensations were of course amazing, but it was almost more the expression on Randall’s face that drove Victor’s arousal higher. There was nothing sexier than a partner who was absolutely in the moment, who went for things like this without fear or thought of anything else. With Randall’s eyes closed, Victor could truly look at him.

  He wound his fingers into Randall’s hair, struggling to keep his own eyes open so he could take in every moment. Victor wanted to hold off on his orgasm, to enjoy this for longer, but Randall was almost ruthless in his attentions. He didn’t slow down, he didn’t take it easy, he just dug his fingertips into Victor’s skin and sucked hard, his tongue rubbing over the underside of Victor’s cock, employing all the little tricks he’d learned about Victor’s body over the last few days.

  It was an extremely good thing that the garage was soundproofed, because the volume at which Victor moaned Randall’s name might have been a bit excessive for any other situation. He curled forward as the pleasure concentrated, teeth gritted around more utterances of Randall’s name. The building arousal had all the mercilessness of an oncoming train, and Victor came so hard he swore he saw dots at the corners of his vision.

  Panting, he sagged back over the hood of the car, staring dazedly at the ceiling. “Dear God,” he said faintly. Randall’s tongue was still moving, softly cleaning him off, and Victor twitched at the sensation, a rough groan sounding at the back of his throat. “Enough,” he pleaded, laughing, gently pushing at Randall’s head. “You utter monster.”

  He could feel Randall kissing his cock, which was just cruel, but then moving up his body, leaving behind traces of his lips against Victor’s hips, his stomach, his arms, until Randall was leaning over him, nose burying itself against his throat. “You are so hot,” Randall murmured. “How on earth are you so attractive?”

  “I’m fairly sure it was the car you found attractive.” Victor laughed again. “I had no clue what that look on your face was at first.” He raised his hands to Randall’s shoulders, curving them around the back of his neck, and brought him down for a kiss.

  “I have never been much of a car person,” Randall admitted, deepening the next kiss, hands sliding down to Victor’s hips. “But God, you and the car and the whole thing. I wanted to beg you to fuck me over this hood. And then again in the backseat.” Randall still looked a little embarrassed every time he stated something like that so openly. That
hadn’t stopped him yet, though. Even the flush that touched his cheeks was counteracted by the way he pulled Victor in closer, teasing bites down his throat.

  Just the thought of that was almost enough to get Victor wanting a second round right then and there. “That’s an idea we’ll have to save for the next rainy day,” he said instead, wandering one hand down Randall’s chest. “And as much as I want to do so right now, I’m going to have to be a killjoy.”

  Very reluctantly, he pushed himself off the hood, but even as he knew they should go, he caught Randall in another kiss. Though Victor desperately wanted to return the favor, he also didn’t want to be late and make his coworkers angry. “Rain check?”

  “I will hold you to that.” Randall kissed the corner of his mouth, hand wound in Victor’s tie to keep him close. “But I think we just used up our whole ten percent with that.”

  Victor laughed under his breath as he pulled his pants back up. He put a hand to Randall’s elbow, nudged him over to get him in the passenger seat, and made his way around the car to sit behind the wheel. Ten percent be damned, he certainly wasn’t going to complain if that kept happening during work hours.

  The engine started up with a finely maintained purr under them. Victor pulled it out of the garage with a glance over at Randall, who once again looked utterly distracted. Victor smirked to himself. Well, that was one use of this car he certainly hadn’t intended.

  It was only a few minutes’ drive to the college, though it took Victor a few minutes more to squeeze the car into his parking space. The way he cursed the whole time was probably unflattering, but Randall just seemed bemused, sticking his head out the window to tell Victor how close he was to scraping the entire side of the car against the building wall. When he finally got it parked, Victor let out a sigh of relief and got out first so that Randall could climb over the middle and exit via the driver’s side.

  The college itself was old, built shortly after Victor’s house. Carved from stone and brick and populated with wide parks and the occasional tree, it was one of the most beautiful campuses Victor had ever seen—which was at least part of the reason he’d chosen to work there.

  When he began to walk, he realized Randall was no longer beside him. Turning, he found Randall staring around, expression one of pained longing, watching students walk past with books and bags in hand. It was only a moment and then Randall was smiling at him again, was walking quickly to catch up, but there was something on the whole less about him now.

  Victor knew Randall had given up on college when Anthony had become sick, and although Randall had never said it expressly, Victor started to wonder if this was the college Randall had been signed up for. He’d mentioned working and saving to transfer to his chosen university. From the way he was looking at everything around them, absorbing everything like a child with their nose pressed to the glass, Victor couldn’t help but think this was where Randall was supposed to be now, instead of running after wolf packs and working himself to the bone.

  Victor didn’t say anything. He just put his hand to Randall’s back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture and walked them toward the building he worked in. He’d hoped that he would one day be able to help Randall go back to college, but Anthony would have to get better before Randall did that. It was, unfortunately, something out of Victor’s control.

  “That’s where I work.” He nodded at the two-story building they were approaching. It lay on the far side of a grassy park, the stone a dark gray in color, arches above the windows lending it an almost religious air.

  “I changed my mind,” Randall murmured, head tipped back to take in the whole structure. “I want you to fuck me here.”

  Victor almost laughed, until he realized they were in the middle of a campus. Wincing, he took his hand off Randall’s back. It probably wouldn’t do to have a professor and a possible future student getting cozy in the middle of everybody.

  Immediately going red, that fragile confidence Randall had built up fading just as quickly, he muttered an “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” fumbling off his glasses to clean them on the corner of his sweater. “That was highly inappropriate. It—”

  “That’s not what I was reacting to,” Victor said quietly. “Believe me, I’d like nothing more than that. But I’m a professor here, and you may be a student someday. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your chances of getting in.”

  “I’m not going to be a student, Victor,” Randall sighed, straightening his tie. “But I am your research assistant. I should act like it. You’re absolutely right.”

  Victor couldn’t lean in close to whisper—he could, however, speak lowly enough that only Randall’s wolf ears would pick it up. “You’re just awfully distracting,” he said fondly.

  A smile touched Randall’s face, and he ducked his head, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you show me your office, professor?”

  A few more steps took them to the entrance of the building. Victor scanned his identity card. They waited for the welcoming buzz before Victor pushed open the door and let them in. He led Randall down a series of hallways that twisted and turned, as confusing as any university building, until he finally came to his office. It was only a small one, little more than the size of two closets pushed together, but Victor didn’t need very much space.

  He hadn’t decorated it with much, only books and papers. There were no photographs or mugs or posters. Now that Victor looked at it with new eyes, it looked a bit… pathetic.

  “Well, this is it,” he said to Randall, waving a hand at the room before getting behind the desk to go through the drawers. “It’s not much, but the door locks, so I can avoid students when I want to.”

  As he had with Victor’s bedroom, Randall slowly made his way around the room, fingers lightly sliding along book spines, nosing into the corners, inspecting everything. “You have a first-edition Nietzsche.” He carefully lifted one of the books from the stack. “The chapters here on the basis of good and evil are stunning.”

  “It really is a lot better in the original German,” Victor said absently. “Though still very dry to read.”

  “Viele Menschen warten ihr ganzes Leben hindurch auf die Chance, auf ihre Weise gut zu sein,” Randall mused with a slight smile, glancing over at Victor.

  Victor snorted at the sentiment—“‘many people wait throughout their whole lives for the chance to be good in their own fashion.’ I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

  “A philosophy of sorts.” Randall slid the book back into place, long fingers touching the cover lightly like a silent good-bye. “I think the idea of in their own fashion is fascinating. Good is such a slippery thing, after all. I don’t know if I believe in heroes. But I can believe in the idea that we’re all striving to be better.”

  “I think Nietzsche would agree with you.” Victor closed the drawer he’d been looking through, hefting a stack of papers onto the desk. “I’ve also got some Aristotle there if you’d like to try your hand at ancient Greek. Not a first edition, sadly.”

  “I’ve always wanted to learn Greek,” Randall said, immediately searching through the shelves eagerly. “Ancient, specifically, though honestly I’d be happy with anything. I could never find a class, though.”

  Gathering the last of his work, Victor tucked it into the briefcase he’d brought with him and joined Randall at the bookshelf. “I’ve taught a few classes on ancient Greek,” he said, gaze caught on Randall studying the books. He was so in his element that it was impossible not to watch him. “I could arrange a few private lessons, I think, or I could just give you the textbooks. They’re dense but easily understood.”

  “Anything,” Randall agreed, his eyes devouring the Aristotle like he’d been starved for weeks. “I don’t want to take up your time, so the books would be more than excellent. Thank you, Victor.” A pause and Randall looked up, expression softening. “Really. Thank you.” The words were said so gently, so earnestly, that it seemed one of
the most intimate things Randall had ever told him.

  Once again, Victor wanted to insist that Randall attend this college. He knew he could pull a few favors and get Randall in late, but Randall seemed to have given up on the idea completely, and Victor couldn’t force him into it. One day, perhaps, he would offer and Randall would take the chance. He knew other things had to fall in place first—like Anthony’s health.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Victor said. If he could, he’d gladly spend all day in his office with Randall, but he’d rushed here for a meeting and he was still unfortunately late. “I need to go meet with the other linguistics lecturers,” he said apologetically. “You can stay here if you like, or if you want to wander, I can just call you when I’m done so we can find each other.”

  “I’ll stay here.” Randall reached out, adjusting Victor’s tie, absently smoothing his hands down the front of Victor’s shirt. “I want to pull some more books for your personal research. And if you’ll allow me, go through some of those notes you were telling me about? From your past books. I think there were some excellent points you made about the propensity of humans to project their own internal struggles onto the supernatural community, turning us into fairy tale monsters, as it were, that I think will really add to the current chapter you’re writing.”

  Even though Victor was getting later by the second, he had to stop and kiss Randall on the cheek. How he’d ever gotten something fully researched before Randall, he had no clue. “Hiring you was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said. “Have fun.”

  Then he all but ran out of the office, wincing to himself as he looked at his watch. He wasn’t normally late to these sorts of things, but there was so much else happening in his life that he was finding it difficult to multitask, especially when lecturing and research had once been the only things in his life.

  His attendance at the meeting for the linguistics professors was largely ceremonial, as this semester was his scheduled time off. But Victor liked attending those sorts of things nonetheless, even if he had to stare at the table or the projection the entire time to avoid a room full of possible eye contact. It was supposed to go on for an hour, but since linguistics academics tended to favor the spoken word and embellish, it lasted for an hour and a half, a good portion of which was Victor’s fault for eagerly vouching that the students have to ask questions in the language they were learning.