by A. Nybo
Nudging Leon’s legs apart with his knee, he moved between them and nipped and licked at pecs, nipples, and Leon’s gently defined Adonis belt. He massaged Leon’s slim hips around to the inside of his thighs, then ran his fingers through lube-moistened pubes and down long, strong legs.
The sight of Leon spread beneath him was everything he’d fantasised. Leon’s broad chest dipped down to a slim waist, and with his legs spread to accommodate Sergei, the narrowness of his hips was emphasised. He was stunning to look at and arousing as hell.
Sergei lowered to kiss Leon’s hip, and the heated, musky smell of him induced Sergei to slide his mouth over the tip of Leon’s cock. Leon’s gasp of euphoria drove Sergei to suck deeper. He pulled Leon’s foreskin back and ran his tongue over the silky glans to his frenulum. Leon’s little jerk reflected his extreme sensitivity there—something Sergei stored away for later, but before moving on, he used the flat of his tongue to gently rub back and forth. The way Leon’s cock quivered against his tongue was like music to his soul.
Since his mouth still wasn’t ready for the intense workout of a blowjob, he sucked on Leon’s tip before moving to take one of Leon’s balls in his mouth. Leon moaned with enjoyment, so Sergei spent some time there and ran a slippery finger down to find Leon’s pucker.
Leon opened his legs further, the invitation sparking against Sergei’s increasing desire. He wanted more, so much more, and with his injury now completely closed, he let his tongue sink lower, snaking across Leon’s taint, and he pushed Leon’s legs up so he could go lower still and replace his circling finger.
A hitch of breath preceded Leon’s extended blissful moan, like a band stretching Sergei’s arousal ever closer to breaking point. Leaving a deposit of saliva at Leon’s entrance, Sergei worked his way back up Leon’s body while he dipped a finger in to feel the inner warmth. Sergei ran his finger around the halo of muscle, enjoying the sensation. Leon’s excitement caused him to loosen inside, and the speed with which he forced himself down on Sergei’s finger was a silent request for more.
Obliging, Sergei pressed two fingers deep, circling and teasing the edges of Leon’s sweet spot before running his fingers directly over it. The sharp huff Leon emitted was confirmation he’d hit home. Sergei didn’t know what was more beguiling, the knowledge he was pleasuring Leon or the sounds Leon was making that caused Sergei’s cock to leak and bob with need.
“Stop, stop, stop.” Leon’s urgent plea raised devilment in Sergei, and the only thing keeping him from knocking Leon’s restraining hand away and tipping him over the edge, was his desire to make their time together last.
He’d only just withdrawn his fingers when Leon threw him on his back and pounced on him like a leopard on a gazelle. The kiss was fierce, Leon delving deep into Sergei’s mouth, probing, searching. Sergei welcomed him in, sucking and then sliding their tongues against each other to echo their bodies.
The heat in their lovemaking heightened, and Sergei grasped their hard-ons in his hand, squeezing them together. His relief at feeling the constriction around and against his cock was only brief before he needed more.
With Leon’s mouth open and pressed down onto Sergei’s shoulder, he panted as he pushed himself relentlessly into Sergei’s hand. Leon’s hot breath against his skin was arousing enough, but the rapid little pants of desperation drove Sergei to the edge. He rubbed his temple against Leon’s hair. If there were some way to bathe in Leon, he would do it.
Their lovemaking became like a wrestling match, the prize to weaken the other with post-orgasmic bliss. Leon unearthed hot spots to use and abuse in the most delicious ways, by hand and mouth, while Sergei pursued Leon’s erotic meridians with equal abandon. And then Leon was on top again, his hands grasping Sergei’s shoulders, using them as purchase as his muscles worked in a hard, feverish rut. One of Sergei’s hands stroked between them, while the other kneaded the hard muscles of Leon’s arsecheek as it rippled.
Leon lost his rhythm as his body took over with its own song, and Sergei pumped harder, causing momentary rigidity in Leon as the first wave of orgasm flooded through him. The culmination of Leon’s growl, the splash of release, and thrusting sensations undid Sergei, and his own breathing turned to breathy pants as he jerked into his hand against Leon. Then he came.
They collapsed against each other and lay loose-limbed in the glow of aftermath. After long moments, Leon lifted himself to his elbows and smiled at Sergei before dipping to lead him in a luxurious kiss. Afterwards, Leon rolled off him and lay on his back, arms stretched above his head in post-coital paradise.
He lifted his head and looked the length of Sergei’s body. “Look at you, you dirty bastard. You’re a bloody mess. You need a shower, and I don’t think I can trust you to wash yourself properly.”
Splayed on his back, Sergei smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.
Leon chuckled. “Okay, I’ll start the shower, but I expect you in there.”
“It’s a date.”
Leon kissed him again before he rose from the bed. He smacked Sergei’s thigh and raised his eyebrows. “Mm, our first date. And it’s going to be wet and naked.”
Chapter 12
SERGEI AWOKE a few hours later, wanting nothing more than to bask in Leon’s closeness, especially so soon after they’d finally had time to explore each other, but shamanic duties niggled at him, and he knew to ignore it would make the mental discomfort worse. He slipped from bed, and taking one of the bags Doris had brought around, he quietly left the bedroom.
Out in the lounge, his fingers sought the resealable plastic bag hidden in the lining. If Doris had any idea the things he’d brought around in those bags he’d picked up from Sergei’s—lube, condoms, controlled substances, all the necessities of life—he’d have arrested Sergei on the spot. He hadn’t meant to put Doris in the position of carting controlled substances around, and if not for a nudge from the spirits, he wouldn’t have remembered the powdered muscimol was in the bag.
He measured a portion into a glass and mixed it with water, but before he drank it, he’d need something to put fresh drinking water in for later. He would take all that was essential to the spare room before consuming the muscimol so that once there, he didn’t have to leave for the duration.
With the remaining muscimol secreted back in the bag, he bent to the cupboard beneath the sink in search of a drinking container. Leon’s voice gave him a start, and he hit his head on the ledge.
“Ugh, did I just drink vase water?”
Horror swept down Sergei’s spine as he rose and turned. Leon was looking into the now empty glass at the undiluted remnants of the muscimol, his face contorted in distaste.
“That had bits in it,” he complained.
“Fuck.” Sergei’s mind raced. “Go and throw up.”
Leon laughed. “It was nasty, but not chunder worthy.”
“Go and throw up!”
“What? Why? Was it poison?” joked Leon.
“Yes.”
Leon’s humour vanished. “What?”
“It was muscimol. Fly agaric.”
“Make sense, Sergei!”
Leon’s abrupt panic caused Sergei to address it in a less urgent way. “I take it as an entheogen.”
“You take it.” Leon exhaled his relief. “What’s an enthengen, ethnegen, whatever?”
“A soul-freeing drug.”
“Oh.”
“But you need to throw it up.”
“Why? It can’t be all that dangerous if you take it. And seriously, I don’t want to stick my fingers down my throat. It’ll be fine.”
Sergei did not want to be having this conversation with an AFP agent. Why the fuck did the spirits want this? “No, Leon. It’s a controlled substance. And by the time it kicks in, you’ll feel like throwing up anyway.”
“Oh come on, Sergei. It’s not like I’ve never taken drugs before. Everyone has some drug experiences in their past, don’t they?”
“It is a
hallucinogen.”
Leon barked a laugh. “Oh fuck. How long does it last?” His humour disappeared again. “Jeezus, Charlie isn’t going to arrive in the morning and find me off my tree, is he?”
“It’s all right.” The last thing either of them needed now was for Leon to go into a blind panic. “If you don’t vomit, you will be fine by the morning.” He hoped. He worried Leon wasn’t open enough to accept the effects and things would go badly for him. “But I really think you should get rid of it.”
Leon relaxed again. “Okay, well, I can see this through… I think. I’ve never taken a hallucinogen before.” He almost seemed interested in the effects.
“Leon, you need to think about it, and I suggest you do it quickly. It’s not necessarily going to be a pleasant experience.”
He shrugged. “I’d like to have some idea what it is you do.”
“Muscimol won’t give you that, but it might open your mind a little.” Maybe the spirits did know what they were doing. It would take Leon years to become accustomed to shamanic beliefs. The fastest and most effective way probably was to give him a hint of another reality. “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Sergei continued his search for a water container, only this time it was for Leon. “Have you any idea what to expect?”
“Not really. Is this the stuff they used to feed to reindeers?”
“Yes. The effects can be very different for individuals. But generally, in about an hour to an hour and a half it should start kicking in, and you’ll get nauseous. That’s always the worst bit for me.”
Sergei continued to tell Leon what he might expect as he collected together the essentials and took them to the room Leon had assigned himself. “If Doris comes around in the morning and you’re still asleep, we will tell them I kept you awake drumming all night,” said Sergei.
Leon eyed his drum. “Are you going to?”
“Yes and no.” Sergei smirked. “It depends how you go.”
The following hours went by much as Sergei expected they would. By midnight Leon had passed through the early stages, and after he had awoken again, Sergei began drumming. It had been so long since he had spent much time drumming consciously that he’d forgotten how tiring it was when not taken by a trance, but he dared not allow himself to let go of common reality, as he needed to be there for Leon.
Mostly, Sergei alternated yoiking and drumming, but when Leon appeared to enter a dissociated state and went completely glassy-eyed, he married the two, hoping to allow Leon to at least glimpse the free soul.
By 6:00 am Sergei was relieved to see Leon dozing. Exhausted, he just wanted to go to bed, but he needed to be certain this was the sleep that would see Leon free of the drug.
Leon was still asleep when Sergei checked on him after he had finished breakfast. Satisfied Leon wasn’t likely to wake for at least a few hours, he left drinking water on the bedside table and went to his own room.
Slipping between the sheets, he cursed that they had to be separated in case Doris came by. All Sergei wanted was to curl around Leon and descend into the depths of sleep. Instead, he had to comfort himself with the memory of how that felt.
Chapter 13
SERGEI WOKE with a start. The dream that had awoken him receded fast, but it carried an importance that couldn’t be denied. Voices were coming from the lounge, but then the laugh track brought the recognition that it was the TV.
He pulled on his jeans and stepped forwards but walked into a foggy cloud. A disembodied fist caked in dry, cracked mud snapped down, causing the fog to swirl around it at speed. Sergei jumped back, but the arm was still the same distance in front of him. Then the mist blew clear of the fist and it opened. There on the palm lay an indistinct object. He made to pick it up, and as his fingers went to grasp it, an emotion swept through him that brought Lucy to mind. The object became one of the opal earrings he’d given to her. The fist snapped shut, crushing the gem, and the powdered debris drifted towards the floor and then disappeared completely.
“Lucy!” Sergei bellowed as he ran from his bedroom. “Lucy’s in trouble!” he yelled as he ran through the lounge. He could hear Leon shouting behind him as he fled out the door, but he didn’t have time to stop.
Heedless of the heat of the tarmac, Sergei raced down the road, across two blocks, and onto the main street. Heading south, he ran on the right-hand side until a car passed and then crossed over and turned the first left. Far behind he heard someone yell, and he hoped it was Leon.
Sergei fled past Soda Bob’s through the car park and sprinted diagonally across the road. He leapt up onto the front step and across the veranda. Without hesitation, he threw the door open.
“Lucy! Lucy!”
No answer.
He hurried down the small ramp that led into Lucy’s dugout proper and ran to the doorway of the first room.
“Lucy!”
Reaching the third room, he was thrown backwards when Evgeni sprang into him.
Sergei grabbed wildly, trying get hold of something to keep him upright. Snagging Evgeni’s shirt, he held fast while he tried to regain his balance. Collecting himself, he used his hold on the shirt to throw Evgeni against the wall. A satisfying grunt escaped the man as the wind was knocked from him. Sergei punched Evgeni in the gut and lifted his knee as Evgeni doubled over. Blood coursed down Evgeni’s smashed face, and he straightened. “Suka blyad!” Evgeni cursed. He evaded the next blow Sergei unleashed and struck Sergei’s chin before fleeing down the passage.
Sergei chased him from the house, and seeing Leon coming from Soda Bob’s car park, he pointed to Evgeni, who upon seeing Leon coming towards him at speed, veered off.
Running back inside, Sergei found Lucy on the floor of her kitchen, hands tied behind her back, her shirt torn down the middle exposing her chest, and a superficial knife slice at the top of her breastbone. She made a strange mewling sound, and Sergei gathered her in his arms. “Shh, Lucy, you’re okay.” He rocked her and petted her hair, smoothing down her latest wildfire hairdo. “Shh.”
LEON SPED after Evgeni, who headed away from the houses towards open space. Evgeni ducked behind the last of the buildings but quickly appeared out the other side. Leon was gaining on him but couldn’t risk Evgeni turning back towards town, where it would be easier to find a hiding place or use someone as a shield.
“Police! Halt!” Leon stopped abruptly, raised his gun, aimed and—
The man that was Evgeni Volkov morphed into the form of a wolf for a dozen massive full-tilt strides. Leon blinked, and once again a man was running away, now so much further ahead.
“What the fuck?” Leon blinked again, and Evgeni Volkov disappeared completely. As had the wolf.
But there was nothing for either of them to hide behind—the landscape was flat and desolate. Leon stood with gun raised, body frozen but his mind racing, trying to understand what had happened. “This is Coober Pedy,” he told himself with calm rationality. He kept an eye out for mineshafts as he cautiously moved forwards—Evgeni had to have gone down one. There was nowhere else.
The further he walked, the more he had to acknowledge there was no mineshaft. “You fucken idiot,” he told himself.
He didn’t know what had happened, but he was damn sure the muscimol he’d consumed the previous night was to blame. If he’d learned nothing else last night, it was to never pinch food or water from Sergei.
Without his holster, he tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. He turned and started back to Lucy’s. He couldn’t believe he’d had Evgeni Volkov within his sights and lost him. The worst thing was, he wasn’t even sure how he’d lost him. All the way back, he intermittently looked over his shoulder, expecting Evgeni to reappear as magically as he had disappeared.
“Sergei? Lucy?” he called as he entered Lucy’s house.
“In the kitchen,” Sergei replied.
Leon followed the ramp down into the dugout and looked in rooms as he went, since he did
n’t know which one was the kitchen. Reaching it, he found Sergei sitting on the floor, leaning against the cupboard, with Lucy curled on his lap. Cut lengths of rope lay on the tiles around them.
The sight of Sergei’s bruises called Leon’s attention to the fact that he’d run down the main street shirtless. If anyone had noticed him chasing Sergei, they would probably have called the police, thinking he’d attacked him.
“How is she? Is she hurt?”
“Not badly. He got away?”
Unable to say exactly what had happened in front of Lucy, Leon merely nodded. “If she doesn’t need to go to hospital, then she needs to come with us. She can’t stay here.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how we’re going to explain this.”
“Do we have to?” Sergei asked.
“Yes, we have to,” snapped Leon. “They need to know Evgeni is still here.”
“You think they doubt it?”
“Jeezus.” Leon sighed and sat at the table, his hand to his forehead. “I don’t know. I’m confused as hell. Last night messed with my head, and things… aren’t what they appear to be, or aren’t what I think they are, or something. Whatever.” His hand dropped to the table with a thud. “We need to decide now whether we’re calling Charlie.”
“And tell him what?” asked Sergei. “We were walking past when we heard a noise?”
Sergei bent his head to Lucy. “Hey?” He swept her hair back. “You need to get changed and pack some clothes for a few days. Okay?”
Lucy nodded but didn’t move.
“Come on, Lucy.” Sergei almost pushed her from his lap to get her moving.
Leon went to them and held out a hand to help her up. Clutching her shirt together, she took his hand and hauled herself to her feet. Leon noted the cut she was covering and, feeling oddly protective, wrapped his arms around her shaking body. She returned his hug, and for the first time since seeing Evgeni turn into a wolf, Leon felt anchored. He didn’t want to let her go, but if they weren’t going to call Charlie, they needed to return to the house before they were discovered missing.
