Bloodlines (79 page)

Victor gave a hum of agreement, and if he said anything else, Randall didn’t hear it, because he was too busy arching into the contact of Victor’s tongue on his cock. He muffled a groan around a bitten lip, staring down at Victor.

“Turn over,” Victor said, cupping one hand under Randall’s hip. “I’ve only covered one half of you.”

“What?” Dazed, Randall ran fingers through Victor’s hair, desperate to have contact, to find a way to wrap himself fully around Victor and never let go. “What do you mean? There’s nothing… back there.”

“There’s your back, which I have noticed to be quite well formed,” Victor replied, giving Randall’s hip another nudge. “It deserves attention too.”

One last skeptical look, but Randall rolled over, feeling so much more exposed now. One’s back was not something Randall particularly thought about in reference to these sorts of activities. Then again, he had quite liked running his hands along Victor’s their last night together, so Randall assumed he just was lacking knowledge in this area. It did feel more than a little strange to just be sprawled out in bed, naked, while Victor was still clothed.

He felt Victor’s lips press against his shoulder blade. It didn’t make Randall squirm, but it was nice, an exploration of a part of his body he’d never considered an intimate one. Victor trailed his fingers down the bumps and curves of Randall’s spine, as if cataloging each one and storing the feeling away for later. Then Victor’s lips were again at the small of his back, dropping light kisses against the muscle that curved down to his hip.

Randall jerked a little in surprise when Victor’s hand smoothed across his ass. “If at any point I do something that makes you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me,” Victor said. Randall found it a little hard to think about that statement when Victor’s fingers were tracing the curve of his thighs. Instinctively, he arched up into the pull against his skin, the soft skim of a touch leaving goose bumps in its wake.

Then Victor’s lips were on his
ass
, biting lightly at the curve of it. Randall jumped slightly, shock making him flinch, but the groan that rumbled in his chest definitely wasn’t a protest. “What—” was all he managed to get out, hips rising slightly, as if to encourage more.

Victor’s laugh had an edge of a rumble to it. “I’m showing you option C,” he replied. Randall could feel his tongue then, sliding over the back of Randall’s thighs, moving up, a wet, warm trail. Randall shivered, biting his lip hard enough to dimple it, anticipation hooking low in his gut. He had no idea where Victor was going, but his body seemed tight and tense, waiting for it.

The gentle press of the point of Victor’s tongue against his hole made Randall jump in shock again. He looked back at Victor, shaking his head, not to stop him, but in utter confusion. “I don’t think that goes there,” he tried to joke, voice low, hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“No?” Victor’s grin wasn’t as big as before, but there was more of an edge of mischief to it now. “Then I must be lost. Oh well, I may as well explore while I’m here.” He did it again, running his tongue once over Randall’s hole. The odd sensation was slowly being replaced with tentative want. When Randall tried to answer, all that came out was a low, drawn-out moan.

Obviously encouraged by that, Victor kept doing what he was doing—first just gently licking over where Randall had sworn tongues absolutely weren’t meant to go, letting him get used to the feeling and waiting until Randall was beginning to move back into it a little. Victor grasped Randall’s hip, slipping around to grasp his cock where it was trapped between his stomach and the bed.

That got a whimper from Randall as he went up on his knees, not even remotely sure which way he needed to move—forward into Victor’s hand, but then back against that delicious wet pressure of his tongue, both such slow buildups he barely remembered what it was to not be turned on. “Please,” he managed, fingers digging into the mattress. “God, Victor.” All he knew was he wanted
more
of
something
, whatever it could be.

It turned out that something more meant the point of Victor’s tongue again, except this time it wasn’t what Randall was coming to expect. This time Victor pushed his tongue inside Randall, a slow drag inside and then out, and then again, his hand moving over Randall’s cock in time with his tongue. Yes, that felt… very good. So good that Randall abandoned all pretense of holding it together, legs spreading wantonly, back arched to raise his ass to meet Victor’s thrusts. A steady stream of whimpers, of moans, was caught in his throat, buried into the pillow.

Victor gripped him harder, his stroking faster now, seemingly determined to drive Randall to the edge as quickly as possible, all the while pushing his tongue in as deep as he could get it. To Randall the sensation was still a little strange, but it felt so
good
that he’d completely stopped questioning it. He rocked his hips back against Victor, then forward into his hand, babbling senseless encouragement. Pleading with Victor for more, telling him how good it was, how deep he wanted it, how it felt like he was flying apart.

Victor only broke away briefly to dig his teeth into the curve of Randall’s ass, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful.” And then he was back again, the shock of the slide of his tongue that much more pleasurable due to the few seconds of loss of contact. Randall’s moans reached a louder pitch when Victor added a twist to his stroking, his thumb rubbing hard over the tip of Randall’s cock on every drag up. Randall wasn’t sure if he was supposed to maintain control, if he was honestly expected to ride this out without losing his mind in the wave of sensations. But he certainly didn’t. His body tightened, heat coiling like a spring in his gut, desperate for release. Without a warning, barely before he realized it was happening, Randall was gasping Victor’s name, legs shaking, overwhelmed with the force of his pleasure.

Victor kept fucking him with his tongue the entire way through, one hand grasping firmly at Randall’s hip to keep him still. And when Randall started to lose strength in his knees, sagging toward the mattress, only then did Victor let up, moving back with a slide of his hands over Randall’s legs.

Randall felt the mattress drop and dazedly opened his eyes to see Victor sitting next to him, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Thank you,” Victor said, his hand making absent circles on Randall’s shoulder blade.

“I’m very new to this,” Randall managed, words faintly slurred together, “but I’m pretty sure that’s backwards. I think I should be thanking
you
. That was….” No words came to mind. There
were
no words. So Randall just tipped his chin back and howled softly, a long drawn-out, shivery sound that echoed deep in the very bones of him. That was
perfect like a night with a moon and no rain,
that was
deep and hard like the frost under my paws,
that was
exactly right, exactly mine, mate and pack and full bellies and warm cave
. It was everything
good
, and Randall didn’t know if there
was
a word to describe it.

“Well,” Victor said, “I’m not very good at translating howls, but I’m to take it that was meant as a good thing?”

Turning to face Victor, reaching out to run his fingertips along Victor’s sadly still-clothed thigh, Randall smiled loopily. “Oh, yes,” he rumbled. “The very best thing.”

“I’m glad.” Victor’s fingers trailed to the curve of Randall’s neck. “I’m glad that we finally get to do this, as well.”

“Me too.” The lethargic bliss of his orgasm was fading, and Randall gave Victor an appraising look. “You’re still dressed.”

“That I am.” Victor didn’t look like he minded. Instead, the curve of his lips showed an amused, satisfied expression. “I was rather too busy to pay attention to my own clothes, unfortunately. Removing yours was much more pertinent.”

That wouldn’t do at
all
.
With a quick pounce, Randall pushed Victor back, capturing his lips in a heady, deep kiss. Their tongues fucked together, sliding one with the other, and their fingers laced together as Randall pinned Victor’s arms above his head with one hand. He rocked against Victor in cadenced rolls of his hips, loving the slow burn of arousal now, after the insistent, urgent heat. “Fuck me,” he mumbled against Victor’s mouth, burying any response into another hard kiss. “Please.”

Randall went into eager pursuit of Victor’s buttons, popping each one out in turn, rewarded by the growing expanse of smooth, pale skin, just barely dusted over in freckles. Victor paused him before he could finish the job, smiling at Randall’s huff of frustration. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and then he was getting off the bed, moving quickly to the door. Before Randall could further protest the absence, he could hear Victor going through a bag in another room. He returned victorious with lube in hand and tossed the bottle onto the bed. Victor then went to his wallet and pulled out several foil packets.

“Victor.” Randall struggled to sit up from where he’d sprawled out on the bed. “Did you just steal sex supplies from Jed?”

“Er. I may have.” Victor looked a little embarrassed at that, but not embarrassed enough to prevent him from getting back on the bed to come to Randall, catching him in a kiss. “He didn’t have condoms, but luckily I believe in being prepared. Is that all right with you?”

Hand threading through Victor’s hair, Randall slid back farther onto the bed, pulling Victor with him. “I’ll write a proper thank you note in the morning,” he mumbled, much more interested in the fullness of Victor’s lips catching between his own. “Dear Mr. Walker. I am ever so grateful for your donation.”

Victor laughed quietly at that, the eagerness of his kisses growing with every one. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” Victor only broke away to pull his shirt off, dropping his hands to his belt next. Randall gladly went to help, gliding his hands down Victor’s sides, easing his pants off and curling fingers around his hips.

Randall had to break away to stare, drinking in the sight of Victor. He was all soft, pale skin. The curve of his stomach, the lines of his hips, the way broad shoulders swept down to his chest, he was utterly perfect. Poems were written about men like Victor; songs were sung with the hopes of winning them. And here he was, in Randall’s bed. A star captured in a wooden crate.

“You are the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Randall breathed, thumbs painting circles against Victor’s arms. “I could live and die a thousand times over and I’d never see anything like you again.”

Victor looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with the praise—he kissed Randall, the contact sweet and gentle. They turned again, Randall hovering over Victor, the sky to his lovely expanse, kissing and touching as if they were the first beings born to do so. As if this was exactly what their lips and hands had been formed from clay to do.

“You’re clearly far too coherent, if you can be poetic,” Victor finally said, a fond tone under his words. Randall heard the quiet click of a tube, but he didn’t look right then, far more interested in exploring the rounded curves of Victor’s shoulders.

He felt Victor’s hand trail over his ass again, then the light press of Victor’s fingertip against his hole, slick with lube. “If you’re sure?” Victor murmured.

Nudging their foreheads together, eyes closed, Randall nodded. “I trust you,” he said quietly. “I want you, Victor. You’re who I’ve been waiting for.”

“Later, I will tell you exactly how honored I am. But right now I’m far more interested in fucking you.” Randall could hear a smile in Victor’s words, the corresponding press of his finger inching in deeper. It was different than his tongue, reaching in farther and a little uncomfortable at first, but Victor was so gentle that the faint ache soon faded. It started to feel wonderful again in short order when Victor began moving his hand slowly. Randall’s hesitation faded as Victor whispered soothingly to him, rubbing the small of his back, encouraging him to relax around him.

Letting out a slow breath, Randall dropped his head to rest in the crook of Victor’s neck, concentrating on breathing. The ache turned into heat, into friction that built up into, all at once, a small burst of pleasure. Randall rocked forward, startled a little, gasping, his lips catching against Victor’s skin.

And then Victor’s finger grazed over something that made sparks burst behind Randall’s eyes. He dimly recalled hearing something about it, though he’d never experimented with it himself. Victor seemed determined to, though, rubbing hard over his prostate. Rocking back against Victor’s hand, Randall’s moan was lost in the tight clench of teeth, biting Victor’s shoulder, his neck, hard enough to leave marks scattered behind.

The slight pressure of Victor adding another finger never turned into an ache, only a greedy anticipation that had Randall gasping. Time seemed to glaze over in a whirl of messy kisses and panted breaths.

“Ready?” Victor breathed against Randall’s lips, sounding a little strained with the effort of holding himself back.

It took him a moment to gather the scattered whirl of thoughts, to force them into a neat little line that led to a moaned, “Yes,
God
, yes.”

Victor rolled them over, and Randall flopped back into the bed in a boneless, pleasure-heavy sprawl. He watched through half-closed eyes as Victor fumbled with the condom, scowling at it before finally managing to get it on, then moved to kneel between Randall’s legs, leaning over to kiss his chin. Victor’s hands smoothed over Randall’s thigh, fingertips dipping down to briefly rub over his hole again before he started easing his cock inside.

Randall hissed in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes, torn between the mild ache and the approaching pressure. He grabbed Victor’s arms, his grip tight enough to redden the skin. For a moment, a stomach-dropping moment, he panicked. He was so sure it wouldn’t fit, that it would
hurt
, and a pained whimper escaped him. His head arched back, teeth catching his lip, and Randall barely restrained the urge to beg Victor to stop.