Nischal [leopard spots 9] (16 page)

“No, she wouldn’t have, but she never took us to meet any of the others, and we found Kapuk by accident.” Sabby shrugged. “For all we know, the other snow leopard shifters Mom told us about could have been killed. We certainly never met them. Maybe because they’d come over here.” His eyes went round and he grabbed his belly. “Oh gods.”

“Go!” Preston pointed to the restroom. “Run if you have to.”

Sabby was already moving, hunched over slightly as he hobbled away.

“Is he sick?”

Preston turned to Nischal. “Maybe, but nothing fatal. He just ate too much junk food. I didn’t think about him never having any of it before. I should have. His body is likely wondering what the hell it just ingested, and how to get it back out.”

“Those foods aren’t good for you?”

Preston eyed the Cheetos in the machine. “I think everything in moderation is okay, although I’m not including GMO foods. Having scientists screw around with genes and alter our food sources, that’s just not something I’m comfortable with. I want my corn to be corn, not corn and…God only knows what else. I’ve heard everything from dragonflies to fish is being used to make corn more resilient.” He looked back at Nischal and it occurred to him how off track he’d got. “Anyway. Sorry. Yes, this stuff isn’t something you should eat often.”

“Okay, I just won’t try it then.” Nischal narrowed his eyes. “What about the fudge?”

Preston nibbled his lip then let it go. “Well, that isn’t healthy either, but you won’t be eating a pound of it often. I had thought you’d eat a little, save some for later, not inhale it.”

“I didn’t inhale it.” Nischal pointed at him. “You were being sarcastic.”

“Right. So.” Preston nodded at the paper. “Should we do a drive-by of this place? If there are more snow leopard shifters, would you want to meet them?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could say yes, but I need to discuss this with Sabby, too.”

But Preston could feel the hope welling in Nischal. “You told me it’s okay to hope. The same goes for you. I’ve head north-west Colorado is the prettiest part of the state. That’s where the address is that Cliff gave Sabby. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out. We don’t have to go up and knock on their door.”

“Do you trust Cliff all of a sudden?” Nischal demanded to know. “I thought he was creepy.”

“He is creepy,” Preston admitted. “I don’t know why he’d help us, or why he would try to hurt us. I honestly don’t know what to think, but if there’s a possibility that other snow leopard shifters are here, not too far from us, then shouldn’t we try to find them?”

Chapter Fourteen

The frequent restroom breaks for Sabby slowed them down considerably. Nischal was glad when they stopped for the night. He was nervous about trying to find the other snow leopard shifters, and he hated not knowing
why
Cliff would help them, if that was what the man had tried to do. There was no way of asking Cliff. They had no last name or any contact information for him. Preston said there was only the address on that slip of paper, and when Preston had looked it up on his phone’s Internet, the address listed people with the last name of Travis living there.

“Can we have separate rooms?” Sabby asked as Preston parked the car. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I need unfettered access to the restroom.”

“And I need for you to have that, too,” Preston mumbled. “No more junk food for you. Ever.”

Nischal heard the rougher scrape to Preston’s voice. “You need more medicine. Your throat is hurting you.”

Preston didn’t deny it, and once he’d got them checked in and settled in their own rooms, he plopped on the bed, wincing when his butt hit the mattress.

“Sore?” Nischal asked.

Preston looked at him through slitted eyelids. “Not just my throat, buddy.”

Nischal dug out two pills for Preston and fetched him a bottle of water as well. “I’m sorry. I guess shifters have more stamina.” He didn’t realise how insulting that had come out until Preston sat up and scowled at him. “I mean—” There was no way out of the shit storm he’d just stirred up. “Here.”

“I’ll have you know even your shifter ass would be sore if you’d been fucked as much as I have the past couple of days,” Preston sniped. He took the pills and popped them into his mouth. Then he grabbed the water and twisted the top off before chugging the liquid down. For once, Nischal wasn’t completely entranced by Preston’s Adam’s apple.

No, instead he was losing the battle to keep from popping wood at the idea of him being the one who got fucked.

“Shit!” Preston coughed and spluttered. Water went everywhere, and Nischal stepped back, afraid his mate was choking.

But the arousal that arced between them was the reason for Preston’s current situation.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Nischal asked hopefully. He stuffed his selfish wants down. “Never mind. You’re sore—”

“My
ass
is sore,” Preston interrupted, standing up and dropping the bottle he’d been holding. “My dick is just fine.” He took a step forward, and for reasons he couldn’t name, Nischal took a step back as he clenched his butt cheeks. All of a sudden he was hyperaware of that spot nestled between them.

“I—” Nischal gulped. His cock was as hard as it’d ever been, but he was nervous.

Preston took another step. Nischal did, too—backwards. Preston lowered his head and looked up at Nischal through golden lashes. “We don’t have to do anything, or we can blow each other, use our hands, whatever you want. I’m not going to throw you down and ram my cock up your ass.”

Nischal did
not
whimper. The air just slipped out of his lungs funny.

Preston canted his head. “You like that fantasy, huh?”

Did he? Nischal wasn’t sure. His body liked it, but his mind was tangled up on the subject.

“It’s okay.” Preston backed up until he was close to the bed, then he sat down. “Fantasies are fun, healthy to have. Some are better off remaining fantasies, though. Reality can be fun, too. For instance.” Preston leant back on his elbows, which drew Nischal’s eyes to the large bulge at his groin. “You’ve never even been touched on your hole, have you? Not by someone else.”

Nischal could
not
look away from Preston’s swollen dick. The more he stared, the more he craved feeling it pushing into his body. “No,” he got out. “Not even myself except for hygiene purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” Preston’s gaze burned him like a physical touch, setting nerve endings to quivering life. “So I would never just shove you down and dry-fuck you. That would hurt you, possibly to the point that you’d need medical attention. There’s nothing sexy about that.”

“No.” Nischal hoped that was the right answer. He was having trouble listening when his pulse was racing and his heartbeat sounded like muted drums in his ears.

“What I would do is start us off in the shower. We both need one. I’d clean every part of your body, then—” Preston rubbed one hand over his package. “Why don’t we go take a shower, and if at any time you don’t like what I’m doing, I’ll stop?”

Nischal bobbed his head, not trusting himself to speak. Preston got up and held out his hand. Nischal took it and let himself be led to the bathroom.

The room was small, and they bumped knees and elbows as they undressed, but Nischal’s erection didn’t diminish any at all. Neither did Preston’s. It stood tall and thick, surrounded at the base by fiery curls. Preston’s balls hung low in their pink sac. Preston palmed them. “I used to be embarrassed because of their size.”

Nischal had to touch them then. “Why? They’re big, full…”

“Yeah,” Preston snorted. “They are, and in high school when we all had to shower after gym, so many of the guys would give me shit for them being big and for me being a natural redhead. I was called fire crotch long before a certain Hollywood actress was.”

Nischal didn’t know anything about any actresses from Hollywood or anywhere else. He didn’t care, either. “They were idiots. Jealous idiots.”

“Maybe, of my balls anyway.” Preston moaned when Nischal gave them a gentle squeeze. “No one wants to be a ginger, though. Paul tried his best not to be.”

“What’s wrong with being…” Nischal hesitated then decided it must be okay since Preston had said it. “A ginger? You have beautiful hair, so many shades of red and gold.”

“And no soul, if you believe a popular cartoon show.”

“Cartoons aren’t real,” Nischal said, confused by the whole concept of hair colour dictating someone’s capability of having a soul—or not having one.

“Yeah, well, I think most people know that, but it sure did give people ammo to use against us gingers. Teasing us seems to be a hugely popular sport.” Preston caught his wrist and tugged until Nischal left off fondling Preston’s balls. “But enough about that. Lots of kids get bullied, and it sucks—it’s horrible and hateful. People’s thoughtlessness is astounding, but I don’t want to discuss that or anything other than how sexy I think you are.”

Nischal had no desire to rip open Preston’s old wounds so he let the subject drop. Preston smiled at him. He let go of Nischal’s wrist then turned to start the shower. “Grab the shampoo and whatever else the hotel gave us to get clean with, and a couple of clothes, please.”

Preston fiddled with the knobs while Nischal gathered up what he hoped were the right items. At least he knew Preston wouldn’t laugh at him if he accidentally brought something into the shower that didn’t belong. Regardless, he hoped he didn’t screw up like that.

“Awesome,” Preston said as he turned around. He smiled brightly and it was so genuine Nischal forgot to be concerned over whether he had grabbed the right things. Preston took everything from him. “Go on, I’ll get in after you. Let me know if the water’s too hot or too cold for you.”

“Thank you.” Nischal stepped over the side of the bathtub while Preston held the shower curtain aside with his elbow. The water was warm, but not too much so. Nischal turned his back to it and groaned as his muscles were pelted with a pleasant amount of force. “Feels good.”

“I’m glad.” Preston got in with him and set bottles and vials on a shelf. “Scooch back just a little more so the water gets your hair, too.” He looked at Nischal with open appreciation. “I love your hair. It’s so thick and soft. I hope you don’t want to dye over the white streaks. They’re hot.”

Nischal didn’t think so, but he could tell that Preston meant every word he said. “I won’t dye over it. I might cut it—”

“No!” Preston sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth then let it go. “I mean, I really like it kind of long like it is, but do what you want with it. It’s probably not going to be comfortable in the summer heat.”

“I’ll deal with it.” Nischal would let his hair grow down to his ass if it pleased Preston.

Preston blushed, either from arousal or from Nischal’s capitulation. The pink colour was darkest on his cheeks, then it tapered to a lighter shade down his neck and chest before finally fading into his pale skin right above his stomach. Nischal’s gaze went back to Preston’s neck. The bruising there still looked painful.

“It’s not so bad, seriously.” Preston touched one of the marks. “Looks worse than it feels.”

Nischal forgot to be nervous about what was going to happen later. The need to care for his mate was more pressing. He cupped Preston’s nape and dipped his own head down so he could kiss every bruise on that pale, lovely throat.

“Oh,” Preston sighed again and again as he loosely held onto Nischal’s shoulders. “No one’s ever been so…so caring of me.”

That was a shame, but Nischal knew no one could ever have cared for Preston the way he would—the way he already did. The bond between them was tugging them closer and closer to one another, binding them together in ways Nischal knew would never be broken.

“Yes, I want that, too,” Preston whispered as he tipped his head back.

Nischal couldn’t resist that Adam’s apple any longer. He licked over it and Preston shivered. Nischal opened his mouth and sucked on the slight bump while at the same time running his tongue over it again and again.

“Such sweet sounds you make,” Nischal said against Preston’s throat. “I could do just this and listen to you forever.”

Preston gulped and Nischal gently scraped his Adam’s apple with his teeth.

“Oh God,” Preston gasped. His cock was hard and pressed against Nischal’s thigh.

Nischal was in danger of losing himself in what he was doing, in taking over and driving more and more proof of Preston’s enjoyment from his parted lips. As much as he longed to turn Preston around and bury his dick in Preston’s warm, welcoming body, or lift him off his feet and pin him to the wall, fuck him against it until they both came, that wasn’t what was going to happen. Nischal stopped nibbling on Preston’s neck and tipped the man’s head back up to take his mouth in a kiss that had them both grabbing tighter to each other, thrusting and grinding against each other.

When they parted to catch their breath, Preston slapped a hand to the tile and hung his head while he panted. Nischal loved the effect he had on Preston, and, honestly, Preston drove him to the same heights. Nischal’s heart was pounding, his blood pumping, cock leaking with his essence.

Preston raised his head suddenly, and the determined glint in his eyes made Nischal want to drop to his hands and knees so Preston could fuck him immediately.

Preston wagged one finger at him. “Not without some lovin’ on you first.” He picked up one of the washcloths. “Let’s start with me touching every inch of your body.”

And Preston did, washing him in such intimate areas that Nischal’s skin burned with embarrassment. He’d been cleaning himself since he’d been a small child, in whatever form he was in. Having his lover, his mate, washing his asshole was not so much stimulating as it was humbling, but Nischal wanted every touch he could get.

Preston kissed him all over as he rinsed the soap off. Shoulders, back, chest, arms, thighs, feet and every place in between except for Nischal’s dick and balls.

Then Preston began licking down his crease, and Nischal realised there was somewhere else he craved to feel Preston’s lips.