Silver-Steel

by Belinda McBride

  Besides, being here—being in complete control—made the touching tolerable. Pleasant. And who was he trying to kid now? His erection hadn’t flagged from the moment he’d first slid into bed with Travis. The shifter’s presence was a constant melody in the back of his brain—annoying but so very, very sweet.

  He closed his eyes and remembered in perfect recall the last time he’d felt that way. He’d been young then, not fully aware of the invisible leash of his calling. That ignorance had eventually been rectified, and Dylan learned to keep others distant from his heart.

  It was difficult to remain aloof when his bedmate was calling his name in a sleepy voice, rolling to take shelter in Dylan’s arms. Travis was a wolf, after all. His kind craved physical affection; touch kept them balanced and secure. When Travis was settled comfortably, his hair flopped into his handsome face, so Dylan pushed it back with great care, running the tips of his fingers over Travis’s arched brows, down the angles of his face.

  His appearance still surprised Dylan. He was almost delicate, more so than Dylan would have expected in any shifter species. With a little less height, a bit less muscle mass, Travis would nearly be effeminate. But Travis was definitely not a girl. The heated erection pressing into Dylan’s thigh testified to that fact. Travis’s body was muscled and strong, his shoulders proportionately wide for his height. But the lashes shielding those navy-blue eyes were thick and long. His lips were firm but beautifully formed and a bit on the full side. If one knew what to look for, there was a captivating otherworldliness to the young man.

  How long had it been since he’d touched another person without violent or selfish intentions? Dylan still felt flinchy, but Travis’s warmth melted him, guarding him against the cold pressing in. He felt…eased. The shifter brought one leg up over his thigh, and immediately Dylan’s body responded. His skin warmed, and blood rushed to his lower body, leaving him a bit dizzy. He breathed deeply, gathering his control, and turned his thoughts away from sex and bodies and the potential of the shifter next to him. According to Travis, he didn’t do men. He might want to do men, but his reasons for restraining himself were valid, and he certainly had no aversion to women.

  The job. This was his last hunt. The thought of all that hinged on this final job overwhelmed Dylan, serving to crush his libido. He closed his eyes and let himself slip away into the flow of the dreamscape—that ethereal world everyone walked through but few were aware of. The transition took a mere heartbeat. He was dimly aware of the warmth of Travis in his arms, against his body. Now, though, he walked through the slipstream of unconsciousness, trailing along behind Travis.

  Travis turned and smiled at Dylan, taking his breath away.

  “I was hoping you’d come join me.” He paused and waited as Dylan reached his side. Then they walked, the light slowly coming up. All around them snow rose in drifts and piles, but it wasn’t cold. Brilliant red flowers bloomed, their petals stark against the pale landscape. Travis slipped his hand into Dylan’s and laced their fingers together. Instead of pulling away, Dylan gripped tighter and allowed Travis to lead through this dream.

  “I like to run in the snow. There’s something about the ice in my face and up under my belly.”

  “Sounds a bit uncomfortable to me.” Dylan smiled at the sensation of his balls pulling up against his body in sympathy. Travis gave a snort of laughter.

  “I’ve got fur down there when I run.” Without missing a beat, he dropped, and a beautiful silvery-black wolf took his place. The animal’s eyes were the same vivid dark blue as Travis’s. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, and he turned away, then glanced over his shoulder at Dylan.

  “Where are we going?” Of course the wolf couldn’t answer. But this was a dream, so the rules didn’t apply.

  “To run.”

  The reply echoed in his mind.

  “Can you keep up?”

  “I can try. I’m little more than human, you know.”

  Travis laughed silently, and then he crouched and vanished, diving into the bank of snow. He exploded out the other side in a flurry of ice crystals and brilliant red rose petals. Dylan leaped after him and flailed through the soft snow, but caught himself as he fell. After a few tries, he remembered the early days of his life, when he was fleet of foot and light as down. With that memory, he was up above the snow, gliding over its delicate surface.

  They ran swiftly through the forest. Tall pines and stately firs surrounded them; birds flew from branch to branch. It was achingly beautiful and amazingly real. Once again the vivid realism and detail of Travis’s dream stunned Dylan. He felt free and light, as though he were flying rather than skimming above the surface of the powderlike snow. The wolf Travis had become grinned, his mouth wide in quiet mirth as he chased down a rabbit and scattered a flock of finches feeding on seed scattered on the snow-covered forest floor.

  The wolf slowed to a stop and dropped to his belly as he spotted prey among the bushes. For a breathless moment he remained motionless, and then he rose to step oh so carefully, just one foot at a time, placed with delicate care and deliberation. Dylan didn’t dare move or make a sound. He remained frozen in place, flinching only slightly when the young wolf burst into action, flushing a fat bird from a thicket of holly bushes. The bird crashed through the branches and launched itself straight into the air. Travis leaped to follow its vertical ascent; he came down, nothing in his jaws but a rust-colored feather and a pink tongue.

  To his shock, Dylan laughed, for perhaps the first time in his memory. He knew there’d been other times, other laughter, but it had been so very long. The memory was no longer there. He threw back his head and laughed, barely noticing how his joy brought the forest to renewed life—to spring. For the first time in so many years, Dylan remembered, and there was no pain.

  TRAVIS STARED AT the fae in amazement. In his mirth he was transformed. Milk-colored hair grew brilliant and long, white gold reflecting all manner of color. His skin glowed, and as he laughed, Dylan was more of the sun than the moon. All around him birds awakened, grass began to push through the snow, and brilliant flowers lifted their heads through the ice.

  This is just a dream, and he’s not really there.

  Still, the sight was mesmerizing. With his keen senses, Travis caught movement in the forest; he heard the sounds of running, of panting breath. In trepidation he watched, afraid this dream was no longer his, that the fae had wrested control of his subconscious mind. Given Dylan’s usual grim bearing, he was afraid of what he’d see.

  The fae watched also, the look on his face at once painful to witness yet beautiful to behold. His mossy green eyes became as vivid as the leaves and grass, and another version of Dylan emerged, stepping forward, leaving the black-garbed man standing as still as a statue, both watching and participating in the dream.

  Around them the forest changed. Gone were the tall pines; now spreading oak took their place. Rowan and chestnut and other trees Travis knew no longer existed in the world softened the sunlight with their branches and leaves. A small red fox peeked at him from behind a moldering log, and a tiny gray rabbit sat on its haunches, looking at him curiously. He took a shaky breath and, without thinking, was upright, standing as a human again. The air was balmy and gentle to his bare skin, so he didn’t think about clothing.

  The noise came closer, spooking the fox and sending the rabbit skittering away, and he held his breath as a small group of children burst into the clearing. They collapsed to the ground, dissolving into panting laughter, and teased the slower among them. Dylan watched, wonderment and joy overtaking his expression. He finally moved, and when he did, it was so unexpected that Travis dropped to his knees.

  The man stepped forward yet remained locked in place. The new fae had hair the color of redwood; it tumbled down his back in vibrant waves. His fair skin was lightly golden, his green eyes crinkled at the corners, bright with laughter. Yet Dylan also remained in place, his black clothing a stark contrast to his pale skin and hair. Squ
inting, Travis moved closer and saw a banding of tattoos around his wrists and throat he hadn’t noticed before. They were pale and silvery, almost the color of his skin and hair. The pattern was elaborate, like white-gold filigree had been pressed into his skin. His ears were delicately pointed, with a piercing at the tip of one.

  Two versions of Dylan. Travis felt a spike of fear, for now he knew he had no control within this dream. Something deep within was warning him of his temporary guardian. He wanted to wake, to leave the dream behind, but couldn’t, not when he was transfixed by the sight before him.

  The auburn-haired Dylan grinned as a child with hair the same color rushed to his arms. They spoke, but the language was strange—musical and light as crystal. He swung her in the air, and the red knit cap she wore fell away, letting her bright red braids tumble to her sides.

  Like him, her ears were pointed. Her green eyes were large, luminous, and angled upward at the corners.

  Elves? Travis wasn’t familiar enough with the various families of fae to know for sure, but the Dylan in his dream wore a sword at his hip and an ax strapped across his shoulders.

  Travis looked at the other children. They showed no fear of Dylan. They clustered around him, tugging his arms and hugging his legs. He was young—painfully young. Younger than Travis, even. Holding the child in his arms, Dylan took the hand of a little boy, and they began to walk away, casually and happily, and an alarm went off in the back of Travis’s mind.

  “Dylan.” He walked up to the fae he knew, who gazed after the departing group, an expression of devastation in his eyes. If Travis left Dylan in the dream, would he ever come back? Was that the real Dylan? Or maybe the inner core of him? “Dylan, time to wake up.”

  And it was. The edges of the dream began to waver. He stood in front of Dylan, feeling fear and a twinge of untimely lust. The pale-haired man was so beautiful, so remote. Like a man made of ice. He was there but not listening to Travis. And that pissed Travis off.

  “Dylan!” Still no response, and Travis could feel wakefulness coming. He leaned close, clasped Dylan’s cheeks between his hands, and pulled the unresisting fae down for a kiss. His lips were cool but smooth and full. Dylan relaxed a little and let Travis taste him, penetrate his mouth, run rough hands through his hair.

  And it ended before it began. Travis left him behind, alone in the silent forest clearing. When he woke up, Dylan lay at his back, warm, alive, and sound asleep, undoubtedly in a dream of his own. He stretched, blinked, and tried to grasp at the now fading dream.

  He grinned, feeling the imp playing under his skin, urging him along to trouble. Travis arched his back and wiggled his ass against the rod of Dylan’s erection. The fae sighed, changed position, and kept sleeping. He frowned, not happy in whatever world his dreams inhabited, so Travis turned, still caught in Dylan’s tight clasp. The dream he’d just had left him uneasy and discontent. Like all dreams, the memory of it began to dissolve even as he opened his eyes. He only remembered the happiness of running and wonderment. And Dylan… There’d been something wrong with Dylan in that dream.

  Travis looked around the room and spotted the dim glow of the clock on the tiny microwave. That made him smile. Who actually set the clock on a microwave? It was early morning and still dark as night out. The weak light filtered in through the crack in the curtains. He turned his head at just the right angle and saw the snow still falling heavily.

  The drone of snowplows echoed off in the distance. It’d be hours before his family came to pluck him from the arms of this magical stranger. He looked down and examined Dylan’s fair skin, expecting to see…tattoos? But his skin was unmarked. His wrists were supple, the long fingers of his hands elegant and strong.

  Dylan groaned, tightened his grip on Travis, and then relaxed once again. Acutely aware of their contact, Travis’s body tightened; his cock ached, and he felt the trickle of fluid at the tip. It made him shiver.

  He could continue to deny his attraction to the other man, or he could try it—just this once—with Dylan. The fae was an outsider and so very beautiful. So strong. No, it wasn’t physical strength that drew Travis to him, but magnetism. Charisma.

  He could finally get it out of his system, and then he’d know what it felt like to have sex with another man.

  Tentatively he pulled Dylan’s hand over to cup his erection. Travis stifled both a groan and a grin and then snuggled back a little, enjoying the feel of the other man along his entire body.

  His entire naked body. Damn. A flush of warmth ran through him, and his belly flopped a couple of times. Travis had been horny his entire life—he’d probably been born with a stiffy—but never in his life had arousal extended through his body, from his toes to his fingertips and all parts beyond. His heartbeat accelerated, and when Dylan’s fingers flexed over his cock, Travis felt his eyes roll behind his closed lids.

  The fae was awake.

  The pressure on his shaft increased, and a finger looped around his balls, then squeezed them tightly. His heart slammed in his chest. Arousal burned through his veins like fire. But then panic snaked through him, and Travis lurched, afraid of the powerful emotions that rose within. He wasn’t supposed to feel. Not that way!

  Dylan growled softly in his ear, pulling Travis tight against his body.

  “So are you just some fucking little prick-tease, or is there something you want from me?” Dylan’s voice was as cold as ice yet as smooth as silk, and it frightened Travis even more. He shuddered as the fae stroked his cock to a full, throbbing erection. His other hand came up, and he buried his fingers deep in Travis’s hair. “Answer me.”

  “I… No… I mean…sorry…” Words failed him. He hadn’t intended this to be a prank—not really. He wanted to know. To really know. But Dylan wasn’t the man to experiment with; Travis saw that now.

  “Please.”

  God…where had that come from?

  Dylan let him loose, then rolled Travis to his back and straddled his hips. He was strong, maybe stronger than Travis. Looking up at the fae, he saw dark, stormy eyes and cruel lips. His face was etched with anger and want. Belatedly Travis remembered Dylan’s aversion to being touched. Had he gone too far? As usual, he’d blindly rushed into something without thought. A delicious spin of fear and excitement ran through Travis, and he knew damn well this whole scene needed to stop. Now. He was a wolf…the son of the alpha. To beg was shameful.

  “Please? Are you begging me to stop or to go?” Dark glittering eyes seared right into his soul, and Travis formed the words to make him stop, to apologize, to promise to never invade Dylan’s space again.

  “Please. Don’t stop!” He almost screamed in frustration. Who the hell was hijacking his words? He watched in fascination as the fae leaned forward, one hand pinning both of Travis’s wrists. The other clasped his jaw and held him in place. Dylan came down, and Travis caught the cold, snowy scent of him, the fragrance of pine and oak and the perfume of apple. He captured Travis’s lip in his teeth and pulled at the tender skin. Travis held his breath, tears springing to his eyes at the stinging pain. Dylan didn’t kiss; he tugged steadily, his gaze never leaving Travis’s face.

  When he let go, Dylan didn’t retreat. Instead he trailed his tongue along the seam of Travis’s lips, teasing, tasting, and finally urging him to open, to submit to his kiss. He tackled Travis, the caress both brutal and carnal, and held him down till they both fought to breathe. When Travis broke away, Dylan glared down at him, his face flushed and taut.

  “You’re going to suck my cock, little wolf.”

  Travis felt his eyes widen a bit. “I’ve never—”

  “I know. It’s time to learn.” He pulled Travis upright. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”

  Travis obeyed, hating himself, loving the moment. Once his hands were in place, Dylan pushed him back onto the pillow. To his horror Travis was immobile. He couldn’t fight, could barely move. The fae straddled him again, this time up around his shoulders. His shaft was swollen and hard
, the tip so red it was nearly purple. A drop of precum glimmered, then dropped slowly to land on Travis’s chin.

  “Suck.”

  He cleared his throat, opened his mouth, and leaned forward as far as he could, struggling to capture Dylan’s swaying shaft. After a couple of clumsy attempts, the fae finally relented and arched his hips forward to feed his cock into Travis’s mouth.

  Travis opened wide and swallowed as much as he could.

  “Easy!”

  He choked, fighting his gag reflex. His eyes watered, and he coughed. Dylan pulled back, giving him a little relief.

  “Just take what you can.”

  “I told you I’ve never done this before. And I can’t…” He battled the weight of his own body, struggling to free his arms. He glared at Dylan, spotting what might have been a smile.

  “Just do to me what you enjoy.”

  “That’s what I was trying to do!” Travis’s frustration mounted, and his cock… Well, it was still hard.

  Stupid thing.

  “Make me wet.”

  Travis opened his mouth and let the other man control the penetration. Once his confidence began to build, he ran his tongue around the flare of Dylan’s cockhead, toying with the feel of foreskin under his lips. Abruptly the fae pulled away from him, rolled him to his side, and freed Travis’s trapped hands. Before Travis could gather his wits, Dylan was behind him, had reached around, and was pulling roughly at his shaft. A groan burst from Travis’s chest before he could stifle it, and he whimpered, half in pain, half in astounded delight. Dylan hissed, thrusting his hips at Travis’s ass, and the hot spill of semen jetted up against his ass and balls. The fae came hard, all the while working Travis’s cock, slicking it with his seed.

  Teeth bore down on his nape, and iron-tough fingers gripped him, pumping, tugging his balls and pinching ruthlessly at a nipple.

  “Ohhh… Shit!”

  His cum spurted and spattered onto the sheets of the bed. Travis bucked and strained, battling the waves of climax that pulled his body into a taut bow. Fire flared across his ass, and damn! The fae was spanking him! He shuddered, drained and spent, his mind wrapped in an odd, woolen haze. The handling turned gentle as Dylan rubbed his skin, soothing away the burn. He released Travis’s neck, and not surprisingly, a warm trickle of blood ran down to his shoulder.