“Okay.” Yes. Please. His body instinctively wanted to roll and show Rye his belly and throat, offering up all the tender bits. Only Rye’s hand on his back kept him from being that stupid.
“Mmm. That’s the perfect answer.” The distance between them seemed so small, but it took forever for Rye to lean forward those last few inches and kiss him. Their mouths met, the sound of it a little shocking, wet and greedy. Rye tasted like peppermint, but there was something underneath that, something wild and fierce. Something primal that made Dane’s heart start to thud so hard his ribs rattled.
Oh, God, after over a year of watching and wanting, he was kissing Rye. He’d dreamed of it, but never had as much as an inkling that Rye wanted it, too.
Dane had no idea what to do, but thankfully his hands did. He reached up to grab Rye’s shoulders, as they were solid and broad and they anchored him when his world started spinning. Rye’s lips were firm, smooth, hot on his. The kiss went on and on like Rye wanted to devour him, but this wasn’t like Lindsey or one of the other roomies. This wasn’t about Dane being food.
This was pure sexual need.
Rye groaned, the sound feral, and pushed Dane down on the couch, covering him with that heavy, hard body. Dane sank into the cushions, his legs falling open so Rye could rub them together. He could feel Rye’s cock, right there through their jeans, and it was big, hot, maybe a little intimidating, just like the man himself.
“Want you,” Rye said, the growl back in full force. “Want you so bad. Didn’t want to scare you off. Waited until you knew me, but God I want.”
Dane spread a little more, trying to get closer. “Anything.” In this house it was dangerous to say, but right now he would let Rye have any damned thing at all. Rye’s scent was all around them, those gold-tinted eyes stared right into his, and Dane kinda wanted to howl.
Man, he’d been reading too many wolf books.
Rye chuckled, the sound rough as gravel, and pushed up to start working their clothing off. Dane didn’t bother to feel self-conscious. Living with beautiful vamps and shit made a guy far more likely to go to the gym; he knew he looked good. He spent his time looking at Rye, instead. Seeing the guy coming out of the bathroom in a towel had nothing on watching Rye tear off his shirt and jeans, showing off a hairy chest, an impressive set of muscles, and a cock that made Dane’s mouth water.
Fuck, that was pretty. Dane reached out and trailed his fingers down Rye’s belly, his calluses catching on the silky hairs. Then he wrapped that hand around Rye’s cock, testing the weight and heat of it. It felt just right in his palm, the veins pulsing with life. Intimate.
“Mmm. Yeah.” Rye fucked his hand for a few seconds, back and forth, the tip of that amazing cock growing damp. “Nice hands, man. Really nice.”
“Thanks. I like this.” He squeezed, just so Rye knew what part he was talking about. There wasn’t much he didn’t like. As in nothing he didn’t.
“Me, too. Glad it makes you happy.”
Dane chuckled. “It does. Make me happier if you touched mine, too.” His cock bobbed like it was nodding, agreeing with his words.
“Oh, I have plans for yours.” Rye’s smile was downright predatory, and Dane shivered, his balls drawing up close to his body in the best way. Rye grabbed Dane’s cock in return and started stroking, and soon they had a rhythm going, their arms working in a sort of counterpoint, one up, one down.
Talk about good hands. Rye had huge hands, rough from working with the steel and wood and other found objects he used in his sculptures. Dane had gone to the studio to watch Rye work once and had almost embarrassed himself with the hard-on he’d sprung from seeing Rye force raw materials to bend to his will. It had been so freaking beautiful to see.
Rye made this noise, half growl, half bark, and suddenly they were pressed together again, Rye slamming down between Dane’s legs. Rye brushed Dane’s hand aside and pressed their cocks together, squeezing them so they lined up, the heads making this insanely erotic sound when they moved against each other. There wasn’t even the tiniest amount of room between them, their bodies rubbing madly.
Dane gasped, his head falling back, and Rye’s mouth moved across the skin of his neck, Rye nuzzling him, probably scenting him. He’d read about that. He felt the hard edge of Rye’s teeth, but they didn’t sink in; they only just teased. Then Rye started sucking up a mark.
The feel of that almost bite made Dane a little crazy, and he wrapped his legs around Rye’s body, pushing Rye up and then pulling them together so hard their skin slapped. He humped like a crazy man, his breath coming in hard pants, his chest heaving.
He was so close. So close. This wasn’t going to last nearly long enough. He was going to explode, maybe scream, maybe just pass out.
“Dane…” Rye growled his name, the sound barely human, and stroked all the way to the bases of their cocks, twisting a little at the bottom of the movement. The tiny burn was all it took to push Dane over the edge, and he cried out, surprised at the force of his orgasm. He couldn’t remember ever coming so hard, and definitely not from just a hand job. Rye was one of a kind.
Rye pulled back a few inches, just enough to really get that big hand moving again, and it took maybe three strokes for Rye to join him in the rush of orgasm, Rye’s come splattering Dane’s belly and thighs.
“Christ.” Rye slumped down on him, rumbling a little, licking at Dane’s neck, were a huge bruise was rising up. “That wasn’t near enough, babe. We’re going to have to do that again.”
If he hadn’t been so blown away, Dane would have done the happy dance. Well, that and Rye’s weight pretty much insured he wasn’t doing any kind of dance that wasn’t horizontal.
“I like that idea,” Dane muttered, trying to raise a hand to stroke Rye’s hair. He wanted to do it over and over and then find new things to do with his mouth and his hands and his ass…
“You had sex with him?” Lindsey’s voice came from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She appeared next to the couch, her hair hanging down when she bent over to look Dane in the eye. “With him? You’d let him bite you when you wouldn’t let me? I could make you a vampire!”
“It’s not what you think.” Dane slapped Rye on the butt when the big guy started laughing, the sound a happy rumble which vibrated all through Dane’s body. “I had sex with him because I wanted to, not because I want to be a ‘were over a vamp.”
She crossed her arms over her great boobs, pouting. “Bullshit.”
“I didn’t bite him yet, Linds. Go away.” Rye wasn’t laughing now, and he lifted his head to have a stare-down with Lindsey, which resulted in her sighing and throwing up her hands. She stomped off, and Rye glanced back at him. “I wanted to, though.”
“I know.” Dane reached up, sinking his fingers into Rye’s luxurious dark hair. “I kinda want you to.”
Rye’s eyes flashed gold, the wolf right there at the surface for a moment. It made the hair rise on the back of Dane’s neck but not from the kind of fear he’d had before all this. “You’d better be serious. Know what you’re doing. It won’t take much.”
Dane nodded, feeling incredibly brave and maybe a little stupid. “Maybe just one bite, huh?”
Rye laughed, an exultant, animalistic sound. He bent, lips sliding over Dane’s throat. “With you, I’ll never be able to stop at one.”
Of Men and Mice by Mira Ismine
There! I faced the tussock of grass that had rustled and crept toward it. The full moon had hidden behind a cloud so I could not see what was hiding in the long grass, but I knew something was there. I lifted my foot and placed it down as slowly as I could, easing my weight forward. Each step was as silent as I could make it as I moved in imperceptible increments. My full attention was focussed on the tussock and the hidden rustler.
I was so close, so very close. I didn’t even breathe deeply in case my exhaled breath gave away my position. I was almost close enough to smell the rustler, tantalising hints of warmth and food. I began to gath
er myself to pounce, flexing my muscles and settling my balance.
A flurry of cool air disrupted my pounce and a feather brushed my nose making me sneeze as a damned barn owl snatched my mouse and soared away with it. I gave chase yipping my disapproval. The owl settled on a low branch of a tree and I skidded to a halt below it.
The only sign of my mouse was a long tail hanging from the owl’s beak. The owl looked down at me and then stretched its neck and tilted its head back. The tail vanished and the owl shook its feathers back into place before peering down at me again.
That was my mouse, I bared my teeth at the thieving bird, but all it did was blink at me before launching from the branch to skim across the field behind me. Damned featherbrain had ruined my hunting. I wouldn’t find anything else in the field after charging across it like that and even if I did the damned owl would snatch it from right under my nose again. I trotted along the hedgerow aiming a silent snarl at the stupid bird as it shrieked from the far side of the field.
I headed for the High Street giving up on a fresh dinner and settling for fast food again. I avoided the Indian take-away because I remembered how much I’d suffered the last time I foraged there; curry did not agree with my digestive system, apparently. The Chinese restaurant was always slim pickings and had a particularly aggressive cat so that was out too. That left me with a choice between burgers, kebabs, pizza or chicken; or maybe a selection from each.
I felt a pleasant fullness by the time I headed home even if the tang of pickle was lingering on my tongue beating the anchovies easily. I had avoided the temptation of fresh rat as all the food places put out rat bait and that didn’t agree with me any better than curry. The feral cats were all unharmed as well because they were tough and stringy, and I had a personal rule against hunting cats.
The moon was flitting in and out of the patchy cloud making it difficult to stay in the shadows, not that the street lighting and passing cars left much shadow anyway, but I could pass as a large cat or small dog to a fleeting glance. A longer look would let people see one of the growing population of urban foxes and most would watch me go on my way without interfering.
Home at last. I toured the garden checking for intruders and renewing my scent marks. Next door’s fat, lazy Persian cat had been in again and left its calling card right in the middle of the back lawn. Maybe I should bend my personal rule and deal with it in a permanent fashion, but for now I’d employ the old-fashioned method and cover its scent with my own.
Garden secure I could relax and go inside. I approached my small dog flap in the back door, no way would I call it a cat flap, and sneezed. There was a large, soft, white feather laying in my way. Damn bird. As if it wasn’t enough to steal my mouse it had to go dropping feathers in my territory.
I held my breath and used a paw to scrape the feather out of my way before slipping through my flap. I sneezed again, but felt myself relaxing as the familiar smells surrounded me. My claws clattered on the tiles and wooden floor as I trotted from the kitchen to the bathroom.
I ignored the man lounging on my settee, even if he was all but naked and slightly damp from the shower. He smelt better than anything I’d eaten tonight, but I wasn’t going to let that distract me from my sulk.
The bathroom was still slightly steamy, but there was a fresh, dry towel on the rack. I nosed the door shut and glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I snarled at the bedraggled red fox looking back at me and hopped into the shower before shifting back to my human form. The water ran warm from his shower when I turned it on. Damn man was difficult to ignore.
I scrubbed the shed fox hair and the night’s detritus from my skin and human hair. There were many things that I’d do in my fox form that made my human form shudder, so I tried not to think about what the fox form got up to while in human form and vice versa. I was still close enough to the fox to find showering and covering my scent with artificial perfumes offensive.
My human form countered with mild disgust over my fox form taking a dump in the middle of the lawn. I did my best to ignore the internal bickering and enjoy the hot water. It always took a little while to settle into a form. When I first shifted I’d worried that I was going mad, suffering split personalities or whatever, but it made sense in a way that each of my forms would have different priorities and reactions.
And it wasn’t as though I could seek professional help for the problem. I’d be on heavy medication the minute I mentioned shifting; if not locked up in the local mental ward. I’d coped by myself and done it well enough to function in my mixed up world.
By day I held down a job that paid enough to keep a roof over my head and food on the table most of the time. So what if I spent a few nights a month on four feet rather than two? It wasn’t as if I was the only one doing that.
My family had been fox shifters for centuries as far as I could make out. It wasn’t a large community and they tended to stick together. Carrying on with a human or a wild fox was frowned upon, and other species of shifters weren’t considered much better.
That made me a double embarrassment to my relatives; not only was I involved with another species of shifter but a male shifter at that. My parents and sisters accepted it, but quite a few of my other relatives weren’t so accommodating. That was their problem, not mine.
Thinking about my family wasn’t improving my mood. I switched off the water and wrapped myself in the warm, dry towel that was waiting. I rubbed a hand over my jaw feeling the bristles rasp against my skin. A shave would be a good idea and give me a bit longer to settle into my human skin.
I looked at my reflection to try and speed the process. I saw dark brown hair and blue eyes, a wide square jaw and olive skin. To match my fox I should have been several inches shorter, much slighter with freckles and russet hair. Most of my family looked like that and I was glad I didn’t. There was a rumour of wolf blood on my father’s side of the family and I seemed to prove it.
I knew I couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever, tempting as the idea was, but I wanted to be as human as possible before venturing out. I imagine that there are plenty of niggles in a normal human relationship to provoke arguments, without adding inter-species disagreements.
Shave complete, teeth brushed, drains unclogged and time to be civilised. I wrapped the towel around my waist more securely and left the bathroom.
“Cup of tea, Rey?” James asked as soon as I appeared. “Did you want supper? A snack?”
“You stole my mouse!” So much for calm and civilised. “And you left one of your damned feathers outside the door!”
“I’m sorry.” James looked upset for a second, but walked over to wrap his arms around me and plant a kiss on my cheek.
It would have been my mouth if I hadn’t turned my head away. I was still annoyed with him, but that didn’t stop my arms from wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.
“I couldn’t help myself with the mouse.” James snuggled in and talked to my chest with his head tucked into my neck. “There didn’t seem to be much prey out and about tonight. I only meant to fly over to see how you were doing, but the mouse moved…”
I knew how that went. Sometimes it only took a twitch to trigger the kill and eat reflex. Not that I was going to forgive him that easily, despite how good he felt in my arms.
“And I didn’t mean to leave a feather outside. I thought I’d cleared them all up.” He nibbled on my neck for a moment before continuing, “I know they make you sneeze and I do try to keep them under control. You know I do.”
The feel of him in my arms, the press of naked human skin against naked human skin was distracting me from the annoyance of mouse and feather. James was beautiful whichever form he was wearing, but I couldn’t enjoy his owl form this closely. Barn owls aren’t cuddly toys anymore than foxes are, even if the feathers wouldn’t have made me sneeze.
James looked similar in both forms, which sounds stupid, how can a man look like an owl? But James managed it. As an owl he was ta
ll and slender with long legs and large dark eyes in that distinctive heart-shaped face; his front was white and his back was pale brown with dark speckles.
As a human he was tall, just over six foot, slender with wiry muscles and long legs that seemed to go on forever; his face was triangular with a pointed chin and large dark brown eyes; his skin was pale, a creamy white without blemish, he did not tan or freckle. His hair was the same pale brown as his owl feathers and as soft. He didn’t have speckles in his hair, but otherwise he had the same proportions and colouring in both forms.
Unlike me. I was a couple of inches taller than James and more heavily built.
“Yes, I know you do try,” I responded at last as I rubbed my face against his hair inhaling his scent as well as the artificial ones’ of shampoo and shower gel. “But you still ate my mouse.”
“Let me make it up to you.” He pressed closer in case I was in any doubt about how he wanted to make amends.
I ran my hands over the smooth skin of his back as he mapped my chest with his lips. His hands were busy at my waist and my towel slipped away as his mouth drifted lower. He sank to his knees and my hands slid to his shoulders.
He hummed an approving sound and I looked down to see him lick his lips as he stared at my cock. The way he looked at me was always a big turn on. One glance from him across a room could make me hard, and when he was this close it was almost enough to make me come all over his face.
I groaned as that image drove me even closer to climax and I thought of mice and beaks and ice -- anything to dampen my excitement. James didn’t help when he chose that moment to lick the length of my cock from base to tip. His hand wrapped around the base of my erection in a firm grip that helped me keep control, but then he played with my foreskin, tongue and lips working the sensitive flesh.
My hips bucked trying to thrust into his mouth and end the delicious torment. James wasn’t taken by surprise and rode out the thrust without letting me gain my objective. I groaned and would have begged if I could’ve formed the words.
Just One Bite Volume 6 Page 5
