Bloodlines (56 page)

With a sharp bark, he turned them, Victor sprawled out on the bed, Randall following. He blanketed Victor’s body with his own. Victor clutched his free hand at Randall’s back, nails digging into skin. Randall returned to his neck, peppering kisses and soft, sucking bites, marking him. Claiming him.

Until his nose brushed up against the scars. Pulling back with a frown, Randall was panting, eyes blazing yellow, the light of the flames outside flickering across his bared skin. He didn’t like that scar.

Victor didn’t let him think about it for too long. He rose up to meet Randall, using the hand he still had buried in Randall’s hair to pull him back in. “I’m sure there’s a more eloquent way to say it, but I was rather enjoying that,” Victor panted. His eyes were darker now, his breath shorter. “Forgive my ignorance. Do I do it in return? I’d like to.”

Blinking, Randall rubbed his thumb along Victor’s cheek, a smile easing across his face. Some of the overwhelming possessive instinct faded, and he nuzzled in soft kisses to Victor’s jaw. “If you want. It’s a sense of claiming. It means… it means you’re mine. Right now, in this moment, you’re mine.”

Victor nodded slowly. “And do I get to make you mine at this moment in return?”

The surge of heat that rippled through him at that question was utterly surprising. “Yes,” he whispered. Begged, almost. He tipped his chin back, baring his throat completely. Giving Victor every intimate part of himself. “Yes, I’m yours. I’ve been yours.” It wasn’t a permanent thing. It probably didn’t even register to Victor what submitting meant to a wolf. But for this moment, in this place, they were both giving themselves to each other. And that mattered. The marks would fade, the moment would pass, but for now, they were as vulnerable with each other as a wolf could be.

He felt Victor’s hand clap around the right side of his neck, and Randall had a moment of pure panic, of freezing entirely. The mess of scars left by the vampires’ bites was low on his throat there, and Randall was sure Victor was going to touch them, to send all this gentle pleasure into remembered pain. But Victor’s fingers stayed up by Randall’s jaw, far away from the knotted, pale marks. Then the gentle contact of Victor’s teeth on the other side made Randall forget them entirely. He felt the blunt pressure of a light bite, teeth barely sinking into the skin, not enough to even ache, but the meaning was clear. He had bared his throat to Victor, and Victor wasn’t ripping it out. The shared bites were just a light reinforcement of power, of being equals. Randall moaned softly, fingers threading into Victor’s hair, riding the wave of intense, sudden pleasure the bites gave him. “God,” he managed in a shaky exhale. He’d had
no
idea that it could feel like that.

The pressure of teeth released, much to his disappointment, but Victor made up for it by moving up to kiss him. “I quite like that ritual,” Victor said lowly, wrapping a hand around Randall’s hip. “It’s a shame I don’t have one of my own to share with you.”

Laughing softly, Randall moved to lie on his side, watching Victor, sharing slow, deep kisses. “You could teach me what to do next?” he suggested. “I’m afraid that there is a rather large gap in my knowledge. I have been told, though—” He lightly sucked on Victor’s lower lip. “—I am an excellent student.”

“So I’ve observed,” Victor said, rising up to kneel over Randall, hands trailing down his chest. “I must admit I’m spoiled for choice as to where to start.” He leaned down, stealing one more kiss before he shifted, hooking his fingers around Randall’s belt. “May I?”

Yeah, like he was going to stop now. Randall lifted his hips, helping Victor tug his pants and boxers away, flushing once he realized how exposed he was. Being unclothed before and after shifting was somehow very, very different than this. He distracted himself by painting curves and whorls against Victor’s arms, watching as goose bumps chased his fingers.

Randall had obviously guessed right earlier about contact to the stomach feeling good; Victor did it to him in return, his lips tracing soft paths over Randall’s collarbone down to the jut of his hip bones. Eyes fluttering shut, Randall arched up into each press of Victor’s lips, a surprised moan torn from his lips.

By the time Victor had gotten to his thighs, Randall was starting to feel a bit short of breath. Victor looked up at him. “Is there anything you’d like me
not
to do?” he asked, ducking down again to rake his teeth over Randall’s left thigh. His next words were murmured against skin. “I want to make sure you enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t stop,” was all Randall could think to say. His legs had spread automatically, heels digging into the mattress. Randall’s wide eyes stared down at Victor, completely unsure of what might happen next. His body felt like it was burning from the inside, want a constant pressure, itching under his skin. “Just… please, don’t stop.”

He felt Victor’s lips curve in a smile against his skin. “Stopping is the very last thing on my mind right now.” Crouched above him, his eyes dark and a smile on his lips, the firelight flickering over pale skin, Victor looked as wolfish at that moment as any of them dancing outside.

Victor’s hand traced a path from Randall’s knee upward; he was obviously enjoying taking his time. Every touch was frustrating in the best kind of way, so when Victor’s fingers finally smoothed over Randall’s cock, curling around it, Randall’s breath left his lungs like he’d been punched. Victor only glanced up at him briefly before looking back down, heat and need flushing over his skin.

“I have to admit I did stare quite a bit, on the full moon.” Victor’s voice had gotten huskier. “I attempted to not be a
complete
pervert and stare below the belt. I should have. I was missing out on quite a lot.” As if to punctuate his point, his fingertips slid lightly from the base of Randall’s cock to the tip, exploring so gently it almost seemed it shouldn’t affect Randall so profoundly. And yet.

Muffling a stunned whimper, biting his lip, Randall’s head fell back. He’d touched himself on occasion, of course, but this was nothing like that. This was so intense that Randall honestly wasn’t sure if he should move his hips up, hold still, or just beg for more. He wound up doing some awkward roll upward, a strangled groan lost in his panted breaths. “Please,” he managed. He wanted something more, something he couldn’t even begin to try to articulate. So he just asked again, “Please, Victor.”

He had the presence of mind to note that Victor looked rather pleased by his lack of ability to speak coherently. Victor leaned over him, a forearm braced on the bed next to Randall’s head to hold himself up, their lips inches away from each other as they shared breath. Victor’s hand on him curled around him properly then, his grip tightening. Randall wasn’t even sure
what
kind of noise he made right then, but the pleased look on Victor’s face only grew stronger.

Then, as Victor started moving his hand with long, slow strokes, Randall had to make a conscious effort to not lose it right then and there. Victor ducked down to kiss at Randall’s throat again with another gentle bite. Randall wrapped his legs around Victor’s hips, eyes glazed as he got lost in the slide of Victor’s hand, the friction of his palm, pleasure nearly overwhelming as it tightened in his gut.

“I think….” Randall’s voice cracked, a desperate whimper trailing after the words. He moved up into Victor’s hand, one hand fisted in Victor’s hair, body moving out of pure instinct and need. “I think I might be… close.”

In response, Victor slowed the movements of his hand to a standstill. The loss of friction made Randall groan in frustration, but Victor swallowed the noise with a kiss. “My apologies.” There was a gentle laugh under Victor’s voice, not directed
at
Randall, but a fond noise. “I did want to do a few more things before you finished. While I’m sure your stamina is excellent, I do like variety.”

“What else is there?” Randall said, too stunned to censor himself. Yes, fine, he had
some
knowledge of other things, but honestly, that had felt perfectly good. He couldn’t imagine anything being
better
.

“Some things I’d like to save for a later date,” Victor said. He was just holding Randall now, but even then the contact still felt incredible. “But believe me when I say there are
many
more options.” He moved down again, his teeth catching on Randall’s hip for a moment before pressing his lips lightly to the base of Randall’s cock.

Jerking backward, Randall stared down at Victor, eyes huge. “What… that’s not sanitary.” Which was probably the most idiotic thing ever said during sex, but Randall was honestly a little too surprised to gather his wits correctly.

Victor lifted his eyebrows at Randall, then very deliberately pushed his tongue against Randall’s cock, running a path around the head.

The moan that lifted from Randall’s chest was so loud, so drawn out, he was quite sure they would hear it over the music outside. Maybe he
really
didn’t care about hygiene right then. Legs spreading wider, back arched, Randall panted, “Fair point.”

Victor didn’t seem to want to push him over the edge. His touches were light, the contact of his tongue brief but lingering. For far too short a time, Victor wrapped his lips around him and sucked, but backed off a second later, a positively fiendish look in his eye.

Randall was making noises he didn’t even know existed. “That,” he managed thickly. “That is good. Do that.”

His vocabulary had apparently been reduced to caveman speak. Perhaps all that talk about blood flow and two heads was more than a joke. He felt as if his intelligence had been reduced to the way his body moved, the way Victor was touching him, not that he could imagine anything else mattering.

When Victor went back to what he’d been doing before—that incredible suction and the soft pressure of his tongue—Randall had to actively think about not coming. And again, Victor seemed to know just when he should back off, because he did so. Victor dropped his hands to his own belt, frowning as he tried to concentrate enough to undo it. Randall was suddenly obsessed with the idea of getting Victor naked, of touching like Victor had touched him. He sat up, fingers joining Victor’s to pull his belt open. Randall eagerly tugged Victor’s pants down, biting his lip, eyes wide as he finally freed his cock.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mumbled, happily wrapping a hand around Victor. He stroked slowly, mimicking Victor’s movements, dragging his hand up to the head, thumb lightly tracing over the slit. Randall watched Victor’s face to try to study his reactions. Apparently he was right on target. Victor sucked in a sharp breath, and his head fell back, baring his throat once more.

“You certainly are a quick learner,” Victor said, watching Randall through heavy-lidded eyes. Randall liked that expression.

“I have a very good teacher,” Randall responded, pressing kisses to Victor’s throat, tightening his fingers as he stroked faster. “Tell me, professor, is there an advanced move? Because I seem to recall hearing something about, uh, penetration. That sounds very interesting.”

“Would it be strange of me to want to save that?” Victor looked oddly hesitant in the jumping light of the fire, as if he wasn’t sure that Randall would agree with him. “I’d like to at least make you dinner first.”

Laughing, Randall gave in to the impulse to kiss Victor softly. “Are we dating now?”

“I’d like to.” Victor gave him a hopeful smile, which clashed oddly with the heat in his eyes and the flex of his fingers over Randall’s cock.

They were moving together then, stroking each other in matching rhythms. They shared air, kisses, soft little moans. “Yes,” Randall agreed. “I would too.” He grinned then, sharply, biting Victor’s lip hard enough to see it flush. “Now stop teasing me.”

“As you wish.” A sly smile took over Victor’s expression. He leaned his weight on Randall, bearing them both back down onto the mattress, Victor’s body pinning him down. They shifted just slightly, Victor burying a pant of breath against Randall’s shoulder when their cocks came into contact. Victor lifted him, bracing himself above Randall as he pushed his hips down, rubbing them together. “Is this more to your liking?”

“Victor, I am twenty-four and a virgin.
Everything
is to my liking, you prat.” But Randall was moaning over the sound of Victor’s quiet noise of amusement in reply, hips rocking upward into Victor’s, the friction driving him mad. Randall’s hand slid down Victor’s back to grasp the curve of his ass, hooking him in closer.

Victor apparently wasn’t in the mood for slow anymore. They grasped at each other, rocking together, the bed squeaking under them. Randall pressed his heels into the mattress, thrusting upward, every rub of their bodies together sending sparks of beautiful friction through him. The sound of the drums outside had slowed to an intimate beat, seeming to throb in the very air around them.

They kissed once more, softly at first, their urgency growing with every press of movement. Randall dimly noticed the pop and crackle of someone adding new wood to the bonfire. It sent the flame flaring brighter, red and gold and yellow light pulsing in through the window to flash over their skin.

With a shaky breath, Victor reached between them, and Randall bit down on a sharp moan at the feel of Victor’s hand wrapping around both of them. Coordination became a thing of the past, both of them driven by blind need. Randall’s hand joined his, fingers tangling together, kisses so messy and desperate they became nothing more than sharing pants of air.

He felt it start as if his body were a coil, wound so tight it was vibrating. Randall gasped Victor’s name, rocking forward one more time, coming in a sudden flash of release. Randall sagged back, head pressed against the pillow, gasping in low, dragging whimpers. Dazed, he rode the wave of pleasure until all he could do was sprawl out under Victor, completely spent.

Victor went still, nearly trembling with the effort of it. He lifted a hand, trailing his fingertips down Randall’s cheek. When he spoke, it wasn’t in English, rather in a rolling language that Randall managed to recognize as ancient Sumerian. He wasn’t nearly fluent in the language, but he knew enough—particularly the piece of the poem that Victor said right then, a rather dirty few lines about the size of Randall’s cock and the beauty of his release.