by L. C. Davis
I reached up and grabbed the base of Sebastian's cock. I could feel his pulse through my palm and when neither of them scolded me, I guided the head of his member to my lips, savoring the first taste on the tip of my tongue.
Sebastian shuddered, resting a hand on my shoulder as if to brace himself. Encouraged, I gripped him harder and my lips formed a seal around the head of his cock, sucking eagerly. "Fuck," Sebastian groaned. His shaft slipped a little further into my mouth and I could tell he was having a hard time not thrusting.
Victor gave a knowing chuckle. "That sharp tongue of his is good for more than telling lies."
The urge to argue wasn't nearly as strong as the desire to taste Sebastian's cum, so I chose to let the remark slide and took as much of his thick shaft into my mouth as I could without breaking my jaw. Sebastian made a low murmur of agreement and his hands tangled into my hair.
Victor thrust into me with renewed intent, hitting my spot and the cry of pleasure it elicited made Sebastian shudder again. With the two well-endowed Wolves impaling me from either end, I could suddenly understand why they called it being spit roasted.
Victor's nails dug into my hips as he ground into me harder and he hit my spot in such a way that made me glad I had the stability of being on all fours, all the while Sebastian's precum teased my tongue with the promise of what was to come. As it turned out, the dizzying combination made me come a second time before either of them had even once. My sheath tightened around Victor, wringing out his orgasm as the exact moment Sebastian came with a hard shudder and a low, familiar groan.
I eased Sebastian's dick from my mouth and eagerly lapped up the traces of his pleasure. It turned out his cum was as much of a shame to waste as his blood. Victor was kind or maybe just dazed enough to wait until he softened a bit inside of me before pulling out. No matter how many times I took either of them, his length and Sebastian's girth would always pose a challenge.
Sebastian was the first to his feet and I took his hand when he offered it to pull me up, collapsing against him. I nuzzled affectionately, rubbing my cheek against the hard plane of his chest.
"Oh, so you scent mark him." There was a hint of jealousy underneath Victor's teasing tone. I turned and leaned into him, rubbing my face against his neck.
"There's plenty of affection to share."
"Apparently," Sebastian said dryly, stroking my hair as he stayed close. They were both affectionate after sex, and I was relieved to find that hadn't changed. I placed my head against Victor's chest and pulled Sebastian's arm around my waist, content to remain nestled between them forever while the hot water cascaded over us. I knew the moment would come to an end eventually, and division would set in again, but I was intent on enjoying the unity between us for as long as it lasted.
"That was amazing," I murmured.
"I'm not even sure what that was," Sebastian muttered next to my ear.
"There's no need to put a name to it," said Victor. "It's never going to happen again. There's no reason to talk about it at all."
I flinched. His words cut deeply even though he was only stating the inevitable. Why had I allowed myself to entertain the idea that this could be anything more than a one-time mistake? Sebastian gave a disbelieving grunt and pressed his lips against my neck.
"Please," I said quietly, pulling them both closer. Victor's pulse had slowed down considerably but I could still hear it going strong as I pressed my ear against his chest. "I know this can't last, but just let me enjoy it for a little longer."
They were both silent, but neither of them argued. I closed my eyes and tried to imprint the feeling of being pressed between them, their hearts beating strong on either side of me, deep into my mind so I could go back to it when the division the future held became too much to bear. Intellectually, I understood why what had just happened between us could never happen again, but my heart was settled for the first time since I had set foot in the Lodge. It had come to the decision that had tormented my mind for so long and insisted that it was all far simpler than I was making it out to be. It was a decision that would never satisfy the celestial forces in control of our destinies, but logic didn't matter.
In that moment, I wasn't two halves of a torn soul or the mismatched product of a vampire and a werewolf. For the first time in my life, safe in the arms of the men I loved more than anything except each other, I felt whole.
Chapter 20
ARTHUR
Sitting around a table with slightly fewer than a dozen of the creatures that centuries of selective breeding had wired me to want to kill was easily in the top five of the most awkward experiences of my life. I knew this wasn't the entire pack. Clarence was missing and Sebastian had mentioned something about his mate getting disfigured by the moon.
Guess that made two of us, only Victor was really the one I had to thank for my new chest piece. With the Family's staunch opposition to any kinds of body modification, I decided I could look at it as my one and only chance to rebel. It was admittedly a lot edgier than the cheesy skull and roses I had always wanted to get tattooed on my arm. Anyway, if the sigil had protected Remus when I attacked him, it was worth having it carved into my skin for all eternity.
Dinner with a bunch of wolves, more than a few of whom had seen me naked, seemed like less of a hot idea. Whenever I happened to look up, I always caught someone staring at me. This time it was Foster. He looked away quickly, but not before I noticed the hint of a blush creeping into his cheeks. The others weren't nearly as bashful.
"Are we just gonna sit around and pretend this isn't weird?" Jason asked, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. "Arthur is a fucking hunter. Arthur. And we're just supposed to sit here and play pass the rolls, pretending like everything is okay?"
"Jason," Ulric growled in warning. "I don't recall anyone asking your opinion."
He shrank back, but not without one last glare. I couldn't blame him. Jason and I had been close, or at least as close as you could be to someone you only ever partied with. Hell, we'd even shared a sub a time or two. Finding out about my true nature must have felt like betrayal.
"He's right," I murmured, standing from the table. "I shouldn't be here. This is your home and you should at least be able to eat in peace. I'll go back to my room."
Before anyone could argue, I slipped out of the room, relieved that I was seated so close to the door. I heard Sebastian reprimanding Jason as I left and walked quickly, hoping to outstrip the footsteps behind me.
"Arthur, wait," Remus called, catching up with me. "Please come back. Jason doesn't speak for the rest of us."
"Maybe not for you," I muttered. "He's right, I don't belong here and the less I'm in everybody's face the better."
"But you do belong here," he said, reaching for my arm.
I shirked away. "Not for long. Not with what Victor has planned."
"You don't have to go through with it," he reminded me.
"Yes, I do. If I can't kill Prentice, the least I can do is make sure I don't become one of his walking zombies," I muttered. "The only way I stand a chance of that is to die and come back without the Patriarch's blessing. Either way, I'm a monster. Either way, I don't fit in here."
"Neither do I."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You're the hybrid. You're literally the best of both worlds. I'm a soon-to-be-undead freak and the only place I do belong is one I can never go back to. I'm dealing with it, really, but I need some time to process."
He looked at me with those big, watery green eyes and I felt like I'd just kicked a puppy. "Okay," he murmured. "Please just find me later when you feel like talking."
"I will," I promised, my tone softening. We parted ways and I headed down the hall towards the elevator that led down to the renovated cell block I shared with Remus and his guard dogs. It had been a little less than a week since I arrived at the Lodge and I had been given the run of the place. I tried not to use it and the awkwardness at dinner had only confirmed my decision.
Ulric a
nd the others knew as well as I did that the second I stepped outside that door I was as good as undead. There was plenty of reason for them to kick me out, but there was no reason to worry about me leaving.
As I approached the elevator, I had the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Usually that meant Prentice was around the corner monitoring what I was saying or doing, but that wasn't the case this time. This time it was different. For a moment, I was worried that it was Jason following me to finish what he had started at the table, but when I turned around I found myself staring into Foster's big brown eyes.
"Uh, hi," I said, relaxing. Even though I was more or less human, it was hard to perceive him as a threat. "Can I help you?"
"I just wanted to, um, to finally meet you," he stammered, his sleeve hovering over his mouth. From time to time he nipped the ragged edge of the hem. "Sorry about Jason."
I had seen Foster around the dungeon but never really talked to him. He had always seemed like the frail, nervous type, which wasn't really my thing. Our encounter only proved that my initial assessment had been correct.
"It's nice to officially meet you, too," I said, offering my hand. He returned the handshake with a surprisingly strong one of his own. Guess he was still a Wolf after all. "And don't apologize. I understand where Jason is coming from. I wasn't exactly forthcoming with him about who I was."
He looked away again, chewing the edge of his sleeve. Sometimes he seemed more like a rabbit. "Was there something you needed?" I asked, deciding I was never going to get to the bottom of it if I just waited for him to tell me.
"No, not really," he said in a way that made me think there was. "It's just that there's something I thought you might like to see in my room."
I arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" So that was it. The littlest Wolf was curious about the huntsman. Sex wasn't the first thing on my mind, but maybe Foster was just the distraction I needed. He was, after all, about as far as you could get from Prentice, who was probably fucking his wife at that very moment.
The thought alone was enough to induce vomit if I didn't switch gears fast. "Okay," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Lead on, then."
He brightened and started walking up the flight of stairs by the elevator with a bit of bounce in his step. I followed him and couldn't help but notice that he had a nice ass. He was a lot smaller than the others, but about as tall as me and not frail by any means. It was probably just his long cornsilk hair and big doe eyes that made him look so much younger.
"This is it," he said, unlocking the first door up the stairs. "Come on in."
He slipped his shoes off by the door, so I followed suit. His room was spotless. It was full of soft blues and yellows and decidedly preppy decor. It reminded me of my room at the homestead, which wasn't doing my libido any favors. The main difference was that Foster's room was practically a shrine to the moon.
I recognized her statues displayed both on his desk and on a shelf surrounded by white candles on either side. What really drew my attention was the poster on his wall, framed in what looked like pure silver. It was done in color, but it unmistakably depicted the same scene as the one on my grandfather's monument.
"What is this?" I asked, walking over to examine it. I felt like I was looking at a ghost, or at least a painting done by one.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, rummaging through his dresser for what I could only assume was protection. There was still the chance that I was just bad at reading people and all he really wanted was to show off his room.
"Yeah, it really is."
"It's one of my favorite prints," he continued. "It really captures the spirit of the wolf and his longing for union with the moon."
"Who is it by?" I asked, making my best attempt to sound casual.
"Ulric," he said, jarring me out of the trance inspired by the scene.
He was right about one thing. The longing in the wolf's desperate howl was unmistakable. "Ulric as in your alpha?"
"Oh, yes. He's a prolific artist, but he likes to keep it secret," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "The original is in his study somewhere, but he made a sculpture, too. He let me watch him while he carved it."
I gulped. "Why would he make a sculpture and a painting based on the same subject?"
"He said the painting was for him to remember and the sculpture was for a friend to keep."
"Which friend?"
He shrugged. "Just another wolf, I guess."
Somehow I doubted that, but decided against interrogating Foster any further. I had to find a way to get into Ulric's study later and take a look at this original painting for myself.
"So, can I show you something?" he asked hopefully, holding something behind his back.
I turned around, a bit disappointed when I realized that "show you something" wasn't actually a euphemism. Now I just felt stupid. After all, there was no reason for someone like Foster to be interested in a fling with me when he had a household of buff Wolves at his disposal.
"Yeah, sure," I said stiffly, hoping I could get out of there as fast as possible.
He held out what looked like the hilt of a small knife, but the blade was broken off. The hilt itself didn't look like anything special when I took it, until I turned it around in my hands. Engraved on the base of the handle was our sigil. The mark of the hunters.
"Where did you get this?"
"She gave it to me," he said simply. He said she with enough reverence that I could tell he didn't mean the post lady.
"Where's the blade?"
"She was hoping you would know," he murmured, sounding disappointed.
"What is this, Foster?"
He frowned, clearly upset by my ignorance. "You really don't remember, do you?"
"Maybe if you could tell me what I'm supposed to remember, I'd be of more help," I said gently.
He shook his head. "No, I'm not supposed to say any more than that. I can tell you that this is part of the knife that's supposed to be able to slay the Patriarch."
Now it was my turn to frown. "What?"
"Don't you read the legends?" he asked impatiently.
"Not really," I admitted. "I think they're kind of boring and depressing, to be honest. I do remember the hunter version of the legend from school, and there's nothing about a knife capable of killing the Patriarch in our scriptures," I said, offering it back to him. "If it's a wolf legend, we're not allowed to read those. Only the clan leader has access to information like that."
He refused to take the blade, pushing it back. "It belongs to you," he insisted. "Since you and your grandfather were close, I just assumed he would have told you about it. Maybe you don't know what to do now, but you will when the time comes. Just hold onto it."
I watched him doubtfully. Maybe he really was as crazy as the others said. "How did you know I was close to my grandfather?"
"Well, aren't all hunters close?" It was an obvious deflection, but I decided not to press the issue. For now.
"Yeah. Uh, thanks for," I hesitated, looking at the broken knife, "this. If that's all, I should head back downstairs."
He reached out and took my hand. "That wasn't all," he said in a soft, sultry voice that made me second guess my second guessing of his intentions. He took the hilt from my hand and placed it on his dresser before taking both of my hands and pulling me over to the edge of his bed. He gazed up at me and his soulful brown eyes were full of desire.
"We're both lonely," he said softly, moving further back onto the bed and pulling me with him. As I stared down at him, he ran his hands down my chest. "I can see it in your eyes. Maybe just for tonight it doesn't have to be that way?"
I gulped. How many times had I fantasized about being seduced by some cute little sub? Now the perfect distraction was in my grasp, practically begging me to take him, and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do with him.
"Yeah, I should probably warn you. I'm not as experienced as I let on," I said, humiliated. Better than disappointing him in the middle o
f it.
Foster smiled sweetly. "No, but I am." He leaned up and pressed his lips against mine, raking his hands through my hair as a reminder that I needed to get it cut before Victor's plan went into action. I didn't want to spend the next couple of centuries looking like a grunge rocker. I found myself returning the kiss and repositioned so I could lie on top of him without crushing him.
Then again, that wasn't such a problem anymore.
The kiss was nothing like the one I had shared with Prentice, but Foster's lips were soft and he tasted sweet. Maybe I couldn't be straight, but I found myself thinking that if I could just find satisfaction in a relationship with someone soft and submissive like him, maybe I could be the next best thing. Being gay was bad enough in my family's eyes, but I had always known that being a sub added insult to injury.
Not that it mattered. If Victor's plan to turn me into a soldier and wage preemptive war on the hunters worked, I wasn't going to have a family to disappoint for much longer.
I pressed my lips against his, desperate for the distraction to take effect sooner rather than later. His lips parted with a pleasant little moan and I tasted him even deeper. He tugged at my shirt and I only remembered the ghastly mark on my chest when it was too late. It wasn't really that I was afraid of his reaction--I didn't care enough about Foster for that, at least not yet--it was just that he seemed fragile and I didn't want to expose him to anything upsetting.
His eyes widened when he saw the mark, but to my dismay, he ran his fingers over it with great reverence. "Oh, my. How did this happen?"
"Victor," I muttered. "It's a long story."
"Oh," he said with a nervous laugh. "I was worried she had chosen someone else."
"Chosen?"
"Never mind," he said, pulling me back for another kiss. I shrugged it off and took him into my arms. If he wasn't upset, I wasn't going to let it ruin the night we both clearly needed.
We made out for a little while before my hands drifted downward to explore his body. He was lean but he had more muscle than I had expected. It was hard to tell with his clothes on, which was a problem I intended to solve. He let out a soft little gasp when I cupped his ass in my hand. It was the only part of him that was soft.
