Sev was as addicted to being Laine’s release as he was to the man himself. And Sev wanted Laine in a way he hadn’t expected to. Laine’s grunts were coming faster, short, choppy sounds that made Sev’s cock leak onto his belly. He hit Laine’s cock with a bare scrape of teeth as he pinched the rim of Laine’s hole, one finger inside and the other out. Laine gasped then howled, a sound Sev hadn’t heard from him before but damned if he wouldn’t be hearing it again soon. He swallowed the salty spunk that seemed to pour from Laine’s cock rather than shoot out in jets while Laine held himself up on trembling arms and rapidly slipping knees.
A hard suck and swipe of the tongue to make sure he had every bit of Laine’s spunk, then Sev rolled them both so Laine was on his back. Then Sev dropped his head low to suck Laine’s sac into his mouth. It’d taken practice—which had been fun for both of them—but Sev had finally got to where he could get both of his lover’s balls in his mouth. Laine let out a raspy yell as Sev plunged his finger in deeper and rubbed against Laine’s gland. Sev’s dick was so hard he could drill a hole in the mattress, and he was trying to, rubbing and humping until he was on the verge of coming. He gave Laine’s balls one last lick then crawled over the man to grab the lube he’d stashed under his pillow. Sev had the cap off and his fingers and cock coated in record time, then he was back between Laine’s bent legs, sliding two fingers into his tight entrance.
Laine hissed and shoved his hips down, demanding more, a stronger penetration, deeper thrusts. Sev gave him what he needed, his own urge to be gentle set aside as he worked his fingers in and twisted his wrist. Laine’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his inner muscles constricting around Sev’s digits. Stretching his lover for this first joining took almost more patience than Sev had, but he didn’t want Laine to hate it, and he sure knew more about receiving than his partner did. Assured as much as he could be, Sev pulled his digits from Laine’s gripping channel and quickly hitched the man’s legs over his shoulders.
“You ready for this?” Sev asked, hesitating with his cock pressing against Laine’s hole. He could still stop if this wasn’t what Laine wanted. He hoped.
Laine answered by grabbing Sev’s biceps and rocking up, forcing the first inch of penetration. Sev’s brain melted and he plunged in, filling Laine’s ass with his cock.
“Shiiit!” Laine hissed, hands bruising Sev’s arms as his ass squeezed Sev’s dick so hard he felt light headed. Sev swiveled his hips from side to side and Laine cursed again and ordered him to move!
Sev did, all his plans to take Laine slow and sweet trampled by the need that flared between them. Topping was something Sev hadn’t particularly cared to do before Laine, but with this man, he wanted everything, wanted to be inside every part of him and feel Laine owning him in return. Sev bent down, bending Laine almost in half, but he needed to taste those parted lips, sip the moans and curses and pleas escaping their lush flesh. He drilled Laine’s ass like his tongue drilled his lover’s mouth, demanding, claiming, seeking out depths he hadn’t known to reach for before.
Laine met him stroke for stroke, tongue and hips thrusting and undulating. Sev tried to grip Laine’s dick, needing to bring him off again before filling him with his seed, but Laine snarled and bit Sev’s lower lip hard enough to sting. Sev canted his hips and aimed for the spot his fingers had found, and Laine bucked and jerked his head aside, shouting as strings of cum splattered his chest and belly. His ass constricted around Sev’s cock so tightly Sev couldn’t do more than lean into his lover, trying to meld into him as his climax tore through him, heat and ice swirling down his spine and spewing from his body into Laine’s.
Afterwards, Sev wasn’t sure how, but he ended up under Laine, pinned by his lover’s thick thigh and strong arm. Sev thought he might have lost consciousness or something, because he had no idea how he got from point A, coming so deep inside Laine he thought he’d become a permanent part of him, to point B, being a living pillow for his heavier lover. Sev closed his eyes and debated whether he wanted to snuggle or breathe, but an urgent tugging on his hair had his eyes snapping open.
Laine’s hands weren’t in his hair. A buzzing began in Sev’s head, an urgent demand for a spirit to be heard. Laine stiffened beside him, then sat up and looked around the room with a near panicked expression.
Sev scrambled from the bed on limbs not quite steady. He needed underwear or something—
“Conner?” Laine rasped, looking at Sev where he was hopping on one foot, trying to get Laine’s underwear on. Laine could grab another pair.
“Yeah, I have to get to the rig,” Sev explained as he finally got his other leg through the hole and hitched the underwear up.
“I’m right behind you,” Laine muttered, standing up and wrapping the sheet around his hips.
Sev stopped from racing out of the room, holding his hand out to his lover. “No, you’re right beside me.”
* * * *
Chris had seen some scary things, growing up in a coven. People didn’t want to believe there were things in this world other than the ordinary, but he knew better. Still, he wasn’t prepared to wake up with Rich kneeling over him, the necklace held by the leather in one hand as Rich stared down at him with a blank expression. His eyes were even darker, whether it was the lack of light in the sleeper of something…else, he couldn’t make out any white in Rich’s eyes at all.
Rich tossed the necklace aside and straddled Chris’ hips. Normally this would have had Chris’ dick going from zero to sixty in a second flat, but something wasn’t right about Rich. Chris slowly touched Rich’s hand and found it as cold as a block of ice. The night was cool, but nowhere near enough to explain that. Rich didn’t acknowledge the touch, only stared down at him with eyes that saw something Chris couldn’t fathom. It went past creepy right into terrifying.
Chris edged up against the headboard a little as his heart thudded in his chest. He darted a glance at the floor, wishing he had those crystals now, but in the darkened cab, he couldn’t see more than Rich’s shape and those dead eyes. A chill crawled up from Chris’ toes, burrowing in his bones as he realized Rich wasn’t exactly…here.
“Rich, honey, talk to me,” Chris pleaded softly, more scared for the silent man sitting on him than he was for himself. Chris let his lids droop and felt the cold spear up to his chest when he saw the white and brown sludge mix surrounding Rich. This is very, very bad. He should have made that call—
A pounding on the door to the cab startled Chris so bad he yelped. Rich smiled, but it wasn’t that warm, sexy grin that pushed all of Chris’ buttons. This was something else, something malevolent and frightening and not Rich. Chris heard the voices of the men outside and cursed himself for locking the doors. Rich leaned down and stroked a hand over Chris’ neck, and Chris went rigid at the icy touch. He could feel something otherworldly, something dark and hateful sliding under Rich’s skin.
“This isn’t you,” Chris croaked, catching that cold hand with his own. “Rich, sweetie, listen to me—”
Rich’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened impossibly. The sound torn from his throat had Chris clenching his thighs against pissing himself. That wasn’t anything of this world, that dark and tormented howl. Chris realized he was in danger, not from Rich, but from whatever had control of him, forcing his thin hand to squeeze unbearably tight around Chris’ throat.
Chris kicked and thrashed, but all of his strength was no match for whatever was driving Rich’s body. His lungs burned as they screamed for air, but he couldn’t unseat the man, couldn’t pry the one lone hand loose with both of his. Vision dimming and brightening with explosions of white, Chris was filled not with the fear of death, but with regret for what Rich would do, what he’d feel, if Chris didn’t manage to escape. But he didn’t see how he could, not when his thoughts were slowing, stuttering, and his heart was fluttering weakly in his chest.
“No! Rich!”
Chris thought he imagined yelling it, but that wasn’t his voice. It was high
er pitched than his own, and vaguely familiar. Rich’s head snapped around in a move too fast to be human, and another of those hellacious sounds filled the cab as Chris sunk into darkness.
Rich couldn’t do anything but cower in his mind as two forces shoved into him, the invader with his need to torment, and something else, whose fury and pain was a frigid burn through his bones. His head felt like it was about to explode, his body not his own. He screamed and railed against the hand squeezing the life out of Chris, but nothing he thought, no promises and pleas he made, reached the lips that were no longer his.
A third presence swept through the cab, shoving into Rich with the force of a wrecking ball. His head jerked around hard enough that tendons screamed and he saw Laine and Severo through eyes he couldn’t control. The invader howled in victory as he pinned Laine with an angry glare, and Rich, even cowering in the smallest corner of his mind, knew that James McAlister had never left him, had somehow sunk into him while Rich had hovered between life and death.
“No! Rich!”
He heard Severo’s shout and wanted to protest—couldn’t he, of all people, see it wasn’t Rich doing this? Wasn’t Rich trying to hurt—no, kill, lying to himself wouldn’t help—the very man Rich wanted to try to build something with? But that didn’t matter now. Chris might have been able to get past all the hideous scars, and Rich’s fucked up mental state, but there was no way he could get past Rich—or McAlister via Rich’s body—trying to kill him.
The third force that had slammed into him drew back and mixed with a fourth. The presences inside him railed as Rich cheered when he was driven back, his body flung hard against the cabinet, his shoulder striking the microwave with a loud crack.
This is fine, let them kill me instead, let the others take this body from McAlister and whoever or whatever the fuck that icy thing is. Do it, do it! Rich could die to keep Chris safe, he could die to spite McAlister and drag the man’s spirit to hell with him.
“Do it!” Rich screamed, and only then realized he was alone in his body once more, his back and shoulder throbbing, his throat raw like he’d swallowed glass. He slid down the counter and collapsed in a heap, shame and loathing filling him. He’d rather have died than have to face this, have to face them.
“Get the necklace,” Rich heard over his own quiet sobs. The voice was hoarse and strained. Chris. Oh God, what have I done?
“Put it on him,” Chris snapped, then someone was beside him, but not Chris. Rich could feel him—his body tingled and grew hot with longing when Chris was near. The necklace was dropped over his head and the crystal fell into the open V of his shirt, burning his skin like a hot iron on wet flesh. Good, let it burn through and through.
“Get those off his skin!” Chris again, his voice cracking as he tried to shout. “It burns him! Move it!”
The man beside him was shoved away, then Chris’ hands were on him, touching him gently as he pulled the crystals up and set them outside his shirt.
“Rich, honey—”
That was it, that endearment, the syrup-sweet voice rough and damaged. Rich couldn’t do this, couldn’t stay here. He shoved and pushed, trying to get Chris away before he hurt him again. Chris grunted and wrapped his arms around him, lifting Rich onto his lap. The fight went out of Rich with the first sweep of those big gentle hands down his spine. He curled into himself, his head on Chris’ shoulder, and let the sobs wrack his body, praying they’d tear him apart and end his suffering.
Chapter Eight
After assuring Severo and Laine he wasn’t going to die, file charges, or try to kill Rich, all Chris wanted to do was talk to the man. It’d torn his heart into little still-pulsing lumps of agony, holding Rich, unable to help him. For all Chris’ strength and his wicked Wiccan mom, he could do nothing for the man. Slap a leather thong around his neck and burn that sweet skin with crystals. He could do that. The crystals obviously protected Rich as they were intended to, but he couldn’t touch them without hurting. The leather wasn’t a problem, and if it ever was, those things that’d taken Rich over wouldn’t care if Rich was burned to the bone pulling off the necklace.
He really needed to talk to Rich, and he needed to talk to his mom. And he definitely needed to talk to Severo, probably Laine, too, after what Chris had seen in his rig. Chris had thought maybe he was hallucinating, dying, whatever, but once he’d been lucid, he’d still seen the auras, the solid white around Severo, and several almost not-there auras that didn’t seem to belong to any living body. And Severo had definitely interacted with them. Chris had not imagined that, either.
Rich was in the house, in the guest room. Severo had said he needed to speak to him alone, and neither Laine nor Chris had been happy about that. Laine had headed off to work looking like he’d shoot the first person who so much as jaywalked, and Chris had found himself wandering their yard, scared to get into his own damn rig. Being scared was not something he was used to. Between the protection spells he knew and had placed on him by his mom, and his own optimistic and outgoing nature, Chris simply hadn’t had anything to be afraid of. But now he did in spades. Getting back into the rig was really the least of his fears, so maybe he shouldn’t try to tackle it first.
Mind made up, Chris strode back into the house and tapped on the door of the guestroom. He pressed his ear to the door and heard an indistinguishable murmur he thought was Severo’s, then the lock was undone and the door pulled open. Severo slid out of the room and shut the door before Chris could even get a glimpse of Rich. He gave Severo an arch look and waited.
Severo had big eyes that could pull off innocent like few men could, and Chris wasn’t falling for it. He kept his face impassive as Severo lowered his lids and nibbled on his bottom lip. The silence extended for several moments and Chris concluded that he was facing one man who wouldn’t bend first. Dynamite in little packages and all that, no doubt. Chris felt the stirrings of a grin and gave in. He clapped a hand to Severo’s shoulder, making the smaller man jump and Chris snicker. “Come on, you have some explaining to do, Mr. I See Dead People.”
Severo snorted and led the way into the living room. “I don’t actually. Well, usually. I’ve seen Conner—Laine’s lover, the one who was murdered by McAlister—and let me tell you, it scared the shit out of me. I’m much more okay with hearing and speaking to the dead.”
“That explains your aura,” Chris said, realizing it as he said it. “I guess Rich’s, too.”
Severo sat on the couch and pulled one denim clad leg up under the other. “You see auras? Is that good or bad?”
Chris shrugged, glad but unsurprised Severo didn’t question the whole aura thing. After all, Severo saw…communicated with dead people. Yeesh. “It just is, and really, I’m not great at it. I mean, I have to really concentrate to see someone’s aura, which I guess is good. It’d be too weird for me to walk around seeing shades of people’s true personality around them.” Just the idea made him shudder. “I prefer to get to know people the old fashioned way, unless…”
“Unless what?”
Chris shook his head. How could he explain the sense that kicked in sometimes and had him peeking at auras, like he had Rich’s, Severo’s and Laine’s? Sometimes he just had to, so he did. “There are things I don’t understand, things I think we’re not meant to understand. But I need to know what’s going on here. That—with Rich, that wasn’t him, I know that. I could see his aura, and it was ugly. Rich isn’t ugly, he’s hurt, he’s scared, and he’s—” Possessed?
Severo seemed to know where he was going with that. “I don’t think—well, I didn’t think possession was possible. I thought we could be influenced, but that in your big rig? That was not influence—that was something that calls for more knowledge than I have.” Severo patted the couch and looked at Chris expectantly.
Chris itched to go see Rich, to reassure the man he didn’t blame him, but he sat down and nearly moaned with how good it felt to do so.
“Yeah, it’s a great couch, good for lotsa fun t
hings.” Severo wriggled his eyebrows and Chris was afraid he might be sitting on something he’d rather not be. “Scotchgard.”
“Not sure that makes me feel any better,” Chris groused, though really, he’d sat on worse.
“Don’t be a big pussy,” Severo teased then turned serious again. “So that’s McAlister in Rich, in case you weren’t sure. All I can figure is, Rich was almost dead by the time the ambulance got there, and he died twice at the hospital before stabilizing. I guess th— You look like you’re ready to hit someone. Remember, I’m a lot smaller than you.”
Chris tried to unclench his jaw and loosen his fists but it just wasn’t happening. He closed his eyes and found his center, plowing through the anger and worry and fear that tried to keep him off balance. Several deep breaths and a soft chant later, he felt the peace flow through him, chasing away the negativity of earlier.
“That’s a really neat trick,” Severo said, leaning forward to peer intently at him. “Can you teach me how to do that? I try to meditate and crap like that, but my attention span can be a bit…spotty.”
“There are things that can help with it—crystals, salts, chants and—” Chris stopped and had to glance away from Severo’s entranced look. For some reason it made him want to burst out in giggles, and giggles were something Chris hadn’t done since he was a baby, if even then. “My mom is a Wiccan High Priestess, in case you’re wondering how I know all this stuff. She’s the real deal, and I think she might be able to help us out with this possession thing. I’ve put off calling her because, well, she is going to be cackling with glee when she hears her prophecy for me came true, and no one likes to hear ‘I told you so’, especially from a parent.”
Wait Until Dawn Page 8
