“You were showing off, weren’t you?” Sasha asked.
Nikita unzipped his jeans the rest of the way and shimmied out of them, cock springing up, already red and leaking at the tip. It bobbed obscenely as he kicked his jeans off to the side, and Sasha waited for the trepidation to set in. Nik wasn’t small, and he’d never done this, and he knew it would hurt, at first.
But nothing had hurt as bad as leaving home. As watching his pack die in the snow, ravens wheeling. Nothing had hurt as bad as thinking Nik would die. Or that Nik didn’t love him.
When he forced his gaze up to meet Nikita’s, Nik smirked knowingly. “Maybe I was. A little.” He climbed up onto the bed, crawling up between Sasha’s already-spread thighs, smoothing his hands up the lengths of them. His smirk faded as his gaze tracked down across Sasha’s body. Sasha had never thought much about his own looks, beyond the fact that people had always called him “pretty.” The way Nikita looked at him, throat jumping as he swallowed, his touch reverent over the sharp points of his hipbones, told him that, in Nik’s eyes, he was beautiful.
“Why?”
“Hmm?” Nik hummed, distracted, smoothing his palms over Sasha’s belly. Skirting down to pet the soft skin at juncture of hip and thigh, teasing.
“Why were you showing off?” Sasha asked, smiling hopelessly, even as he lifted into the touch, and his breathing quickened. “Oh, could you just…”
But Nikita kept going, ignoring his flushed cock, stroking the backs of his thighs. Dragging slowly upward. “To send a message,” he said. He shifted his grip, slid both hands between skin and mattress so he was cupping Sasha’s ass. Squeezed, and his gaze came up and locked with Sasha’s, sparking with intent. “But mostly because I knew you were watching.”
Sasha whined. Reached for him with both hands. “Come here, please, oh, come here.”
Nikita leaned down to kiss him. Licked deep into his mouth and swallowed the little sounds he couldn’t help but make. Ground their hips together, cocks sliding against one another, pre-come easing the friction. Sasha clutched at his hair, held him tight, chased forward with lips and teeth through ever miniature retreat.
He could come like this, he knew, just kissing viciously, and rutting against one another. He could already feel the tightening in his belly, the desperate way he surged against Nik’s weight on top of him. His nails scratched at Nik’s scalp, and he could feel they were trying to turn to claws, that he would leave scratches. He was so frantic; kept imagining the way Nik had looked in the ring, how effortless it had been, the way his gaze had sought Sasha’s.
Because I knew you were looking at me.
But he had to be patient, because he wanted more.
He forced his hands to relax and slid them down Nik’s throat to his shoulders. “Wait,” he gasped against his mouth. Nik kept trying to kiss him. “Wait, I want – you have to–” God, talking was difficult.
Nik chuckled as he finally drew back, his lips pink and puffy, gaze dancing. “I know, baby, I know, hold on.”
He shifted away – Sasha whined and clutched at him – but just so he could lean over to his nightstand drawer and come back with a bottle of lube. “I’m back. See.” He kissed his forehead, and then his lips again. “Do you want to try it yourself? Or do you want me to?” His voice had never been so soft, so gentle and sweet.
The sound of it made Sasha want to cry. He swallowed and said, “You. Please.”
Nikita kissed him once more, then sat back and slicked his fingers. “Tell me if it hurts. And tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I won’t want you to stop.”
Nikita stilled for a moment, and gave him a serious look. “Sashka. I mean it. Tell me.” He held there, staring, until Sasha finally nodded. Then he reached for him.
He took Sasha’s cock in one hand. And the slick fingers of the others smoothed along the cleft of his ass, urging his legs wider, before finally brushing, feather-light, against his entrance. Even that bare touch was shocking. Sasha’s cock twitched in his hand, and Nik gave it a few slow strokes, before pressing in with one finger.
It felt…strange. Sasha couldn’t look away, stomach tensing; he felt his brows knitting together, but the sight of Nik’s hands on him was mesmerizing.
“Okay?” Nik asked.
“Yes. Just…”
“It gets better,” Nik said, and ducked down to kiss him as he worked the finger slowly in and out.
A slow, filthy kiss, tongue plunging again and again, in imitation. A kiss that broke down his chin, a chain of little nips, and a tongue dragging wetly across his chest.
Nik worked in a second finger as he grazed his nipples with his teeth.
A third when his tongue dipped down into Sasha’s bellybutton.
His erection had flagged a little, and with three, the burn was insistent, just shy of too painful. He made a wordless sound in his throat, and Nikita looked at his face, gauging his discomfort.
“Hurts?”
“Burns. But it’s not – I can – I can take it,” Sasha panted, trying not to squirm.
Nikita’s hand stilled, the fingers stretching him wide. “It’s not about ‘can,’ baby.”
“I want to,” Sasha insisted. “Please, Nik – please, I just want–”
Nikita reached, and flexed his fingers, and – oh.
“There,” Sasha gasped, hips surging upward.
Nikita pressed a hand down low on his belly, holding him in place, and grinned. “I thought that might help.” He brushed the ends of his fingers over that spot again, that bundle of nerves, and Sasha moaned.
His cock fattened again, perking up against Nik’s wrist.
Nik kept at it a moment, acute, electric pleasure that jolted through him with every little flick of fingertips. He bit his lip until he tasted blood.
And then Nik was withdrawing his fingers. “You’re ready, I think.”
Sasha whined.
Nikita patted his hip. “Roll over, lyubimyy, it will go easier that way.”
Sasha did, uncoordinated and shaky, feeling flushed all over.
Nik snagged one of the pillows and urged Sasha up so he could put it beneath his hips, which turned out to be a great thing because the soft down filling plumped up and gave him something to grind against.
“Hold on,” Nikita said with a little laugh. Wet sound of him slicking his cock. And then his hand was on the small of Sasha’s back, rubbing circles. He moved in closer, skin radiating heat against Sasha’s back. He kneaded Sasha’s ass a moment, making little low growls in his throat that were probably unconscious.
Sasha was on fire with wanting, all his nerves singing, mourning the loss of contact where he was stretched and ready, wanting Nikita there now. He humped against the pillow, and the hands on his hip and ass tightened. “Be still, baby,” Nikita said, voice threaded with a growl. And then there was the head of his cock, just barely pressing, and it was so much bigger than fingers.
“Nik. Please.”
Nik pressed in, slow, slow, slow, hands tightening on Sasha’s hips, panting harshly as he held himself in check. He was shaking.
It burned. It was so much, and it hurt, but Sasha gritted his teeth and held very still, breathing through it.
Finally, Nikita’s hips pressed flushed to his ass, and he was in to the hilt. “Sashka.” His teeth were gritted too, Sasha could hear it. “Are you okay?” One trembling hand smoothed up and down the tense line of Sasha’s spine. “Did I hurt you? Is it – I can pull out – baby, I…” Frantic sweeps of his palm, and choppy breaths. He was inside Sasha.
Inside him, and he could feel every inch, so impossibly full, and it was the closest they’d ever been, bodies fitted together like this.
“Don’t stop. I need – a second. Just a second. But don’t stop, darling. Please don’t. I want this.”
Nikita folded down over him; his sweat-damp forehead pressed to his back, right between his shoulders. “I can wait. I can wait all night,” he breathed, and his hand found
the back of Sasha’s on the sheets, and he laced their trembling fingers together. “Breathe with me, baby.”
Sasha closed his eyes, and did.
All he urgency from just-inside-the-door had faded, replaced by Nikita’s careful tenderness, and the breathless tension of settling into something new. The shiver of the edge of undiscovered landscapes.
Slowly, the sharp sting faded.
Nikita nuzzled at the back of his shoulder. Pressed kisses there, so careful, though his body was all coiled tension. He purred. “You feel wonderful. So good, baby. Are you okay?” He squeezed Sasha’s hand.
Sasha squeezed back, shifted his hips – and Nikita gasped. “I’m perfect – I’m with you.” He shifted again, and oh, that– “You can move.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I–”
Nik drew back a fraction, and eased back in.
“Yes, God – move. Please.”
He went slow at first, so slow, his breathing strained, open, hot mouth pressed to the base of Sasha’s neck. Until it didn’t hurt at all. Until it started to feel good.
Sasha shifted back on the next gentle thrust. “Nik. You can–”
Nikita swore in Russian, and pushed up on both hands. He untangled their fingers so he could grip Sasha’s hips. So he could brace his knees, and pull nearly all the way out, and then thrust back in, slow and forceful. The head of his cock moved over Sasha’s prostate, and he saw stars.
The pace picked up, and it was so good Sasha couldn’t breathe.
But he said, “Wait, wait.” Nik froze instantly. “I want to see your face.”
Nikita held still another moment, panting hotly against the back of his neck. Then he kissed him there. “Okay. Okay, baby.” Pulled out, and encouraged him to roll over.
If Nik had looked wrecked last time, he looked absolutely ruined now, as feral and undone as he’d ever been. Cheeks flushed, mouth red and bitten, eyes glassy, skin gleaming. His short hair, sweat-damp, had fallen across his face. He was gorgeous.
Even more so when he took hold of Sasha’s hips and entered him again, hip tipping back, eyes closing, a moan rippling up out of his throat. He thrust a few times, slick and tight, until Sasha was moaning, too.
Then it was more kisses, sloppy and wet, bodies sliding together. Sasha’s hard cock rubbed against Nik’s stomach and he was so full, and it was so much, and it was so, so–
He whimpered when he came, spilling hot between their bellies. A moment later Nik ground in hard, growled, ducked his head, and sunk his fangs into Sasha’s throat as he came, too, hot pulses deep inside that Sasha could feel.
He cupped the back of Nikita’s head, and held him in place as he drank. Boneless, shaking, sated, and wanting his mate to take what he needed, now, to drink his fill and be strong, and healthy. The knowledge of feeding him like this, after giving him pleasure, filled Sasha with a joy so intense it ached. This was right; this was the way of things. The way of mates, and of vampires and Familiars. The way of pack looking after each other.
Their breathing and their heartbeats slowed, though the stimulation of feeding kept Nik half-hard inside him. Finally, Nikita lapped the wound he’d made a few times and pulled back, licking his lips, looking absolutely drugged.
He rested their foreheads together. “Christ,” he groaned. “I love you.”
“I love that I didn’t even have to force you to feed this time,” Sasha said, with a helpless giggle that shook them both, and then kissed the tip of Nik’s nose. “I love you, too.”
They shifted onto their sides, heedless of the mess, and went right to sleep.
19
“Guys! Guys, wait!”
“Your friend is trying to get your attention,” Dante said mildly, as they strode down the sidewalk.
“I don’t have friends,” Alexei said, and was surprised – and dismayed – by the petty satisfaction he derived from the words. A quick, insubstantial release of pressure.
“Tsareviches don’t have friends?”
“I never have before. Why start now?”
They dodged to either side of two young people who’d stopped to bend over the screen of a phone.
“You’re very cute when you pout,” Dante said, “but you do have friends. I’ve just met them. And the one is still following us. Oh, dear, he’s going to run, I think.”
With a growl, Alexei halted, and Jamie just managed not to crash into the back of him. He whirled on the boy. “What do you want?”
Alexei liked to think that his lack of startlement or intimidation was because he’d grown used to him, and not that he just wasn’t that intimidating at all. (He knew he wasn’t; he owned a mirror, but he liked to pretend.)
Jamie blinked, but recovered. “I’m not staying in the apartment while they fight. And then make up.” He made a face. “So I thought I’d come with you guys.”
“Did we invite you to come?”
Dante elbowed him.
Jamie stared at him.
Alexei sighed and shook his head, resigned. “I liked it better when you were afraid of everything.”
Unperturbed, Jamie fell into step with them as they continued on. “Where are we going?”
Alexei lifted his head, pushed his shoulders back; walked like the prince he’d once been. Truly, it was more of a show than he’d put on then, child that he’d been. But if you were going to say something someone else wouldn’t like, it was best to say it with authority. And who had more authority than a prince? “To Nameless.”
“That bar? Ugh. Wait. To look for Gustav again?”
“And if that fails, to get some information, hopefully.” Alexei traded a glance with Dante – who looked considering – and then slid his gaze to the opposite side, toward Jamie, who walked with his hands in his pockets, looking every inch the innocent artist he’d been before his turning. He’d said he was glad to lose his glasses, but Alexei thought without them he looked even younger than before, guileless and sweet. Hmm, he might be useful.
It was nighttime, which meant Nameless was hopping – as hopping as it ever got. Which was to say – lame. Crowded, at least. Vamps, some wolves, some humans who were bound to be drunk from, and a few who knew the kind of company they were keeping. The ever-present bounty hunter, for instance, who looked to be having a business meeting, though his wolf friend was still MIA. All the tables were full, including the big round one where Dante usually held court. Two male vampires, one female, and some humans.
One of the males turned and waved when he spotted them. “D-Man! Get over here, you want in?”
“No, thanks, Carl,” Dante said, sliding seamlessly into his sleazebag persona. “Already did my share of partying today.”
The other vampire laughed. “You dog!”
Alexei scanned the room, studiously avoided eye contact with Carey the bartender, and finally found what – or who – he was looking for. The wolf Hannah sat alone, in a small corner booth near the rear exit and restrooms, attention fixed on the phone in front of her, half-finished beer at her elbow.
“This way,” he said, but caught himself before he could head her way, and turned to fix Jamie with a look. “I’m here to interrogate someone. If you can’t play along, then you should wait over there.”
His brows lifted. “Interrogate someone about what?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’ve been uncooperative at every turn when it comes to Nik’s plans,” Jamie said, without hesitation. “So I’d like to know who you’re about to shake down, and about what.”
Alexei bared his teeth, briefly, but restrained a growl. “This is about Gustav,” he hissed. “Play along, or leave.”
Jamie nodded, seeming satisfied. “Alright, I’ll play.”
Alexei cursed him in Russian and French as he turned around, and just caught Dante’s amused smirk. “Don’t,” he ordered, pointing a finger at him. And headed for Hannah’s table.
She glanced up when they approached, and tensed, but it was too late.
Alexei and Jamie slid in across from her, and Dante settled at her side, boxing her in, a seemingly-casual arm draped along the back of the booth behind her.
“Hello, again,” Alexei said pleasantly. “May we join you?”
Her gaze shifted across all of them, her jaw tightening, her scent blooming with adrenaline. Her hand tightened on her phone, as she sent the screen to black. But her voice managed nonchalance when she said, “Looks like you already have.”
“Excellent. I thought you could help me with my inquiries.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she asked, deadpan. She looked to Dante. “Is he fucking serious with that ‘inquiries’ shit?”
Dante shrugged. “’Fraid so.” He’d found a piece of gum somewhere, and cracked it obnoxiously. “He’s a prince, you know? Likes to sound like one.”
Beside Alexei, Jamie perked up, brows knitting as he looked at Dante, who only an hour or so ago had been talking like the prim and proper Brit he’d once been.
Alexei stepped on his foot under the table and sent Hannah a serene smile. “Your master.”
She sighed, like she thought he was stupid. “He’s not here. Like I told you last time–”
“No,” Alexei said. It wouldn’t work – at least he didn’t think so, because bound wolves were more or less immune to another vampire’s compulsion – but he sent a mental shove through the airwaves toward her anyway. “I don’t care where he is now. I want to know who he is. And why he’s siccing you on humans.”
The color drained out of her face. Her eyes went wide. And then narrowed. “Don’t try that mental shit on me. It doesn’t work.”
“Fine,” Alexei said, “then you can be a dear and answer my question willingly. Why does your master want you to tear innocent humans into tiny, bloody pieces? For sport? Or is he sending a message to someone?”
She growled, and moved to get up.
Dante gripped the table with one hand, braced himself, and growled back – his face the picture of cool-guy serenity. It was a feat, actually; Alexei planned to ask him how he pulled it off, later.
Golden Eagle (Sons of Rome Book 4) Page 20
