Wesley (10 page)

That was a whopper of a lie, but Armando forced himself to say it like he meant it. Wes still just watched him, so Armando figured he had to be the reasonable one here, which sucked. He also realised he still had one hand flattened against Wes’ chest, and he dropped it at the same time that he made to shoulder past Wes.

“Please.”

Oh God, how could one word, six letters, hold so much power? Armando’s knees locked and he stopped parallel to Wes. He was drawn to look into Wes’ handsome face again even though he feared it’d be like looking at Medusa and his growing desire would turn him to stone. Or, worse, make him capitulate when he was a mess that no man ought to have to deal with.

And one thing he was sure of—Wes wanted more than just to give him a blow job—but Armando wasn’t capable of giving any more than that, wasn’t sure he’d even be able to go through with it if they really got started. Memories were percolating under his skin, in his brain, and if they swamped him… He just wouldn’t think, not anymore.

But he didn’t have to be a selfish prick, either. Armando grinned as he spun around.

Chapter Six

Quick reflexes smeflexes! Wes didn’t have a chance. He found himself grabbed and shoved, Armando a lot stronger than he would have suspected. Maybe Wes would have had a chance after all except that, when Armando touched him, something in his brain just shorted out and he couldn’t seem to go in any direction other than the one Armando was pushing him into.

Wes’ back hit the dingy brick wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. If that hadn’t done it, the look on Armando’s face would have. The need there was tangible, and as Wes inhaled sharply, he caught something then, a whiff of combined scents that had his snow leopard yowling inside of him. Nothing had ever smelt as delicious as that odour.

Before Wes could lean in and sniff again to clarify if Armando was the cause of his near-orgasmic olfactory delight, Armando dropped to his knees. Wes went warm and tingly inside. He knew what was going on now, and his body, his dick in particular, wanted to speed everything up and get to the sucking part. “I thought I was going to do you,” he asked, trying to think past the lack of blood to his brain.

Armando grunted and didn’t answer, but his movements spoke for themselves. He used one arm across Wes’ belly, right above his waistband, to hold him in place. Wes could have broken free, but he was afraid to move, afraid Armando was and wasn’t going to do what he thought Armando was going to do.

Armando flicked him a glance, then he reached over and unfastened Wes’ jeans so quickly there was no doubt in Wes’ head that he’d done this many times. An unreasonable jealousy roiled through him at the same time that Armando shoved his boxers down. Wes realised he was about to have his second non-solitary sexual experience and this time he wasn’t all muddled from shifting. His nerves kicked into fifth gear.

“I want to touch you,” he blurted, trying to cover his cock and balls with his hands.

“I know. But I can’t let you go down on me in a place like this.” Armando licked the back of his hands, then between his index and middle finger, and Wes felt the slick, wet heat from his tongue, his mouth, the soft pillows of his lips. He wanted all of that on his dick, yet he couldn’t seem to uncover that particular part of himself to experience it again.

“And I’m apparently not the complete asshole I thought I was, because I want you so very bad, but… You deserve better.” Armando still wasn’t looking up at him, and Wes wished he would, because there was something in Armando’s voice and words that made him think Armando had deserved better than that, too.

But Armando tugged on his hands, and Wes released his dick, then that sinfully exquisite tongue was laving over his crown. Even though his eyes were open, Wes couldn’t see a damned thing, his eyes crossing and setting off a brilliant display of coloured spots all over the place. He moaned and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own because he didn’t remember moving them, yet they were threading through silky strands of hair.

“Mmmm.”

Oh, Wes felt that hum of approval all the way to his balls. He blinked and blinked, needing to see how perfect Armando looked sucking his dick from this angle. Wes had no doubt at all that the sight would be emblazoned into his memories forever. He wondered if Armando would touch him
back there
again.
I want him to touch my ass, push his fingers right inside me.
But Wes was also afraid Armando would do just that.

Instead, Armando sucked him in deeper and Wes realised his vision was dimmed from holding his breath. He exhaled loud enough to make his ears ache and took a deep breath. He shook his head and almost yelped when the whole length of his cock was suddenly encased in that silky heat. Wes looked and, sure enough, Armando’s nose was buried in his pubes as Armando swallowed around him, taking him in quicker and more confidently than he had the first time.

Wes fisted his hands in that wonderful dark hair. It was as soft and velvety smooth as the muscles constricting around his dick. Armando sucked back up and Wes had to fight not to shove him right down again. He didn’t think Armando would appreciate being handled roughly, and cramming his cock down Armando’s throat would sure qualify as rough.

Armando nipped the tip of his length and Wes yelped.

“Stop thinking and enjoy this before you make me think I’ve lost my BJ skills.” Armando dived down again, and Wes’ barely formed question about those skills shot out of his thoughts.

“Please,” he begged when Armando stopped halfway and tongued one of the thick veins running up his shaft. Wes tightened his grip and his arms quaked with his restraint. He wanted deeper, needed to move, to pull and thrust and he knew how magnificent that would feel. “Fuck!”

Armando took him in completely and that wicked, wicked tongue flicked almost as rapidly as Wes’ heart. With horrifying clarity, Wes knew he wasn’t going to last long at all. Like, not another second longer. He wanted to wail in protest even as pleasure soared from his balls to his cock and spilled into Armando’s mouth. Instead he held onto Armando’s hair and squirmed, his ass clenching as nerves from his asshole to his nipples lit up and sang hallelujah.

Armando suckled and licked him until Wes couldn’t take any more touches. He tugged, gently, he hoped. Armando pulled back and blew over his hyper-sensitive cock.

“Uhn.” Wes wasn’t even sure what he meant.

Armando finally looked up at him and palmed his nuts. “You taste really good.”

Then Armando blanched, and wrenched his hair free from Wes’ grip. He added one more ‘B’ to the combo then he bolted, leaving Wes standing there with his pants around his knees and his cock still wet and sticky. Too stupid still from coming so hard—after all, it was an amazing blow job—Wes could only stare at Armando’s rapidly retreating form. It wasn’t until he heard the squeal of tyres that Wes snapped out of his idiotic daze. It seemed that they were falling into a pattern Wes really didn’t care for—not the last part of it, at least.

“Fuck and damn it all,” he muttered, his throat and mouth too dry for more than a whisper. Wes hitched up his pants and boxers, wincing at the thought of his dick sticking to the underwear. There wasn’t much to be done for it at the moment unless he wanted to run around with his junk flopping in the breeze. Didn’t seem a wise choice.

Wes got his clothes in order. He’d deal with possibly losing some skin off his dick rather than risk an arrest. Why did he have to think about that now? Groaning, he closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face.

And went still as a cat before it pounced on its dinner. That tantalising odour he’d caught a whiff of was back, stronger, and it was making his cock hard all over again as his blood warmed up. Wes kept his eyes closed, wanting to focus his senses on the smell.

It was on his hands, and he brought them closer to his nose. He sniffed, then did it again, and again, until he reminded himself of an addict trying to get that last whiff of his favourite drug. Wes cupped his hands over his nose and drew in deeply. His cock leaked pre-cum and his leopard did its best to roar inside of him.

He was smelling Armando more fully than he had before, and it was a scintillating, arousing aroma. By itself it could probably stimulate him to the point of coming. Wes had never had such a reaction to anything he’d smelt before. Never, but he knew why Armando affected him so. They were destined mates, and Wes needed to remember that when Armando tried to shake free of him. Armando couldn’t really want to escape him, not permanently. Even Bobby had been caught after he’d run from Sully, or something to that effect. Wes really needed to swallow his pride and ask Sully about that.

He trailed a hand down his neck, then lower still. His nipples ached, which was odd. He’d never really thought about them until Armando had demanded that he touch them. Before then they had just been there, useless—or not. Wes hissed as he pinched one through his shirt. Damn, that felt good. He drew another deep breath and moaned softly as he moved his hand on down. God, he needed like he hadn’t just come a few minutes earlier.

Wes didn’t even bother undoing his pants again, not as close as he already was. And since he was already sticky in there, he was good to go. He cupped his hard cock through his clothes and squeezed before rubbing along his length. That was all it took, that and another deep breath. Cum spurted from his slit, not a copious amount, but the orgasm felt like it was turning him inside out. Wes buckled over, actually going to his knees as he shuddered and came. He stopped touching himself and slapped a hand down on the ground before he could face-plant in the alley.

It was several minutes before he could move for more than breathing and shaking. When he did move, it was because his right foot had cramped from his toes curling when he came.

“Ow, fucking ow,” he bitched as he stood. That took the cramp away, but he was slightly dizzy and a lot confused. Especially when it dawned on him that he was still cupping his nose with his left hand. “Dumbass.” He sniffed it again, felt a tingle in his balls that scared him. He’d suddenly become some kind of sex monster addict or something.

“This whole mate business is going to kill me. Death by masturbation.” Wes glared at his hand, then slowly brought it closer and sniffed again. His cock twitched. “Okay, there are much worse ways to bite it.” He needed to stop sniffing his damn hands and go home.

But he was two climaxes stupid, possibly oxygen deprived, because he couldn’t think of anything besides getting his hands on Armando. It was frightening, almost, the intensity of his need for the other man. How did mates ever do anything more than fuck?

His snow leopard agreed—about needing Armando. It was urging him to go find the man. Wes wanted to pin him down and fuck him raw, fill him with his cum and mark Armando inside and out.

“Okay,
that
is disturbing.” Wes shoved both hands in his pockets. He would not take another hit off them. Maybe. “Aw, hell. Why can’t I have any willpower?”

He wanted Armando, desperately. Enough that it was making him uncomfortable. Enough that he was willing to talk to someone about it, and beg for advice. He just hoped that his older brother didn’t tell him to fuck off, or that Bobby didn’t beat him to a pulp.

Walking to his car seemed to take forever. The squishy wetness in his underwear helped contribute to that. It had to be messing with the space-time continuum or something equally too complex for Wes to ever figure out. Cum slowed time to a crawl when smooshed in one’s underwear.

Stuff like that was up to smart people like Sully, and their younger sister Sheila, to figure out. Wes just liked to play video games, mostly. Or he had, up until he’d decided he wanted something more than that. Figuring out what that more was had been escaping him, but right now, he wanted one thing and one thing only.

One man, he corrected himself.
Armando
. It took every bit of Wes’ self-control to get in the car and drive to his own crappy apartment. The place itself wasn’t bad. The garage apartment was too close to his brother, though, since Sully and his mate Bobby lived in the house beside it. Wes had felt like he’d been put there so he could be watched, but it was a lot better than having to live with Sully and Bobby in their home again. After staying with Remus those few days, Wes had returned and gone right up to the garage apartment like Remus had instructed him to do. He’d been in no hurry to talk to Sully. Or Bobby.

Now he was hoping that Sully at least was home. Since Bobby was preparing to take over as alpha of the San Antonio wolf pack when his father stepped down in a few months, and Sully was taking a full load of college courses, Wes figured he might not see either of them. Normally that was a good thing.

But tonight he needed someone to talk to. He’d prefer Sully to the smartass Bobby, but desperate times and all that. Of course, he needed to shower first.