Silver-Steel Page 18

  Travis’s balls pulled tight to his body.

  “You like that. Is it the threat or the fire on your ass that turns you on?”

  The concept was so surprising to Travis that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Both, maybe?”

  Dylan went to the closet and rummaged around, then returned with a second belt in his hand. He tossed it on the bed.

  “Get up. On your knees.”

  The loose sweatpants hung low on Dylan’s hips, and they tented in the front. Travis knew damn well he was naked underneath. Naked and hard. Fascinated by the other man, by the command in his voice, Travis got on his knees and waited for further instructions.

  “I want to fuck you, little wolf.”

  He swallowed hard at Dylan’s words. He’d been thinking of it—a lot. Too much.

  “Only if I get to fuck you too.”

  “Quiet.” The leather snapped. Sounded like he wouldn’t be getting a piece of Dylan’s ass anytime soon. “Hands behind your back. Spread your knees to shoulder width.” The fae paused, watching as Travis got into position. “And I’ll let you fuck me when I’m good and ready.”

  His cock jumped happily at that half promise.

  Once he was satisfied with Travis’s posture, Dylan quickly tore the remnants of the ruined T-shirt and used them to tie his wrists. “Lean back just a bit.”

  Travis obeyed, feeling the stretch in his thighs and his belly. The front of his jeans was taut against his erection, causing him to moan.

  “Too tight? I can fix that.” Dylan popped the button of Travis’s jeans, and his fingers lingered over the zipper before pulling it down. He found Travis’s cock, looped a finger under his testicles, and pulled them out from the fly. He then refastened the waistband, leaving Travis’s junk hanging out in the wind. When Travis looked down at himself, he groaned, hating and loving the bite of the metal zipper against his skin, the compression of the fabric around his flesh. And he grew hard—so hard.

  “I’d love to get a cock ring for you. Leather. I’d loop it here…” Dylan skimmed his fingers over Travis’s heated skin. “And I’d wrap you up so tight you’d want to scream, but you couldn’t, because I’d gag you.” He deliberately traced a finger through the moisture gathering on Travis’s cockhead, then spread it in a maddening, elaborate pattern. He lifted a finger to his lips to taste the precum. Travis opened his mouth to speak, and then he jumped at the snap of the belt.

  “Quiet. I still have some fabric left. Gagging you would be easy.”

  “No—”

  Dylan slipped that salty finger into Travis’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Speak when spoken to, boy.”

  Travis felt his eyes widen in surprise, and the finger slipped free. He tasted his own precum. Dylan was no strutting, leather-clad daddy figure, but he was talking the talk, and damn, it was working. Travis blinked quickly, tears stinging his eyes. His muscles burned, but that was nothing. His cock throbbed, but it was irrelevant. What mattered was the man kneeling in front of him, mastering him with only his melodic, beautiful voice. He started to speak and then pressed his lips together.

  “Very good, Travis. Thank you.” Dylan walked forward on his knees and rewarded Travis with a kiss—a searing, sensual kiss. He plunged his tongue deeply into Travis’s mouth, and with it he stroked and caressed. When he broke away, they were only inches apart.

  He looped a belt around Travis’s body and used it to throw him slightly off balance. Quickly, deftly, he buckled it around his chest, giving him a handle with which to maneuver Travis around the bed. “Lean back again.”

  Travis followed his instructions, watching as Dylan looked him over critically, his eyes lingering on the rude sight of Travis’s erection jutting out from his fly, his swollen balls bulging up beneath them.

  “Gods. I’d love to have a photo of you like this. Blindfolded, though, and bound with red silk cord.”

  Travis felt his precum well. Words bubbled up, but he caught his sore lower lip between his teeth, desperate to please the fae.

  “I spanked you last time. You seemed to get off on that. You think you can take a strap to your ass?” He arched a brow in question.

  Travis hesitated and then nodded. No lying to Dylan, not when his truth-o-meter jumped eagerly at the idea.

  “Yes, Dylan.” He cringed slightly at the tone in his voice, the need to please.

  “Thank you, Travis. I know it must have been hard to agree to.” He stroked Travis again, his hand gentle on Travis’s face. Dylan carefully thumbed his lip. “You don’t need to hurt yourself to keep from speaking.”

  “It seems to work best.”

  Dylan smiled and kissed his swollen mouth softly. “Try not to hurt yourself, then. Just try. Your mouth is so beautiful, I’d hate to see you injured.”

  Travis nodded again.

  Dylan unfastened his jeans and lowered them to midthigh, giving Travis blessed release from the constriction of his clothing. He sighed in relief, enthralled with the throbbing of blood as it rushed into his turgid cock. The need to climax surged through him and then receded.

  “You’re going to kneel upright and hold the position.”

  Travis tensed his stomach, surprised at how stressed his muscles were. Once he was upright, Dylan loosened the ties around his wrists and moved his arms up to the small of his back. He rubbed Travis’s ass gently.

  “I’ll start with five. You count them off.”

  Travis nodded and held his breath.

  “Just remember, you aren’t being punished. We’re exploring sensation.”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Dylan.”

  “Is that the best you can do, boy?”

  In spite of himself, of the discomfort, and the edge of fear, Travis smiled. “For now, Dylan.”

  He nearly felt the fae’s answering smile, and when Dylan kissed the curve of his neck, he shivered.

  “Like that?”

  “Love it. Thank you.”

  He felt Dylan’s sharp teeth bear down on the older marks, and Travis’s body slipped right out of his control. His hips bucked, and his entire body jerked and shuddered. Before he could speak, he pressed his lips closed, effectively stifling the flow of curses waiting to escape.

  Once again Dylan stroked his ass, and then he used the folded leather to trace patterns from his lower back to his thighs. Before Travis was mentally prepared, the first stroke fell.

  At first he felt only the impact. Just as another blow fell on his other cheek, the sting mounted.

  “That’s one. Say it, please.”

  Travis hissed. “That was two. You hit me twice!”

  “I count by the set, love. You’ve just earned another pair of strokes. Now count, please.”

  “Two.”

  “And you’ve earned another set. Count, please.”

  Travis choked back his angry curse. “Fine. One.”

  “And another pair for your disrespect.”

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ. The man was a control freak! Travis stiffened, waiting for the next blow to fall. It did but was soft, barely a stroke on each side.

  “Two.”

  The next strikes came fast, hard, and painfully.

  “Three! Four! Five!” And shit, they were going to leave marks!

  “Now your punishment. Are you ready?”

  Travis was rigid, his body straining to absorb the fire left behind by the belt. He panted frantically.

  “Breath in through your nose, out through your mouth.” He nodded, letting Dylan’s voice calm him. “Relax your body. Don’t fight it.”

  “Okay. Yes.”

  The next pair came, and Travis held on to Dylan’s advice, letting the strikes fall without resistance. The burn flared and spread through his body, and the sensation pooled in his groin. It was incredibly erotic. He gasped when the next blows came, down lower on his thighs. By the final hit, he was damn near ready to come.

  When it ended, he remained on h
is knees, eyes closed, his mind fuzzy and warm. His erection throbbed, but the urgency was receding.

  “Travis?” Dylan’s whisper was in his ear.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you like that?”

  He thought about it for a moment. The pain wasn’t as bad as he expected. In fact, it was fading, leaving just warmth. He’d been hurt far worse during roughhousing on the lawn.

  “Yes. I did.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Dylan pulled the pillows in front of Travis and eased him down. He stripped his jeans off the rest of the way and propped up his hips. Travis lay with his cheek flat on the mattress, watching the fae from the corner of his eye.

  “If at any time you want me to stop, tell me.”

  “What…? No safe word?”

  Dylan adjusted the belt that was still fastened around Travis’s chest. “No, boy. Communication. I expect you to tell me what you’re feeling, and I’ll do the same. If you need me to slow down or back off, tell me. I have skills, but I’m not a mind reader.” He got off the bed and dug into his suitcase, then returned with lube and a condom.

  “Is the condom necessary?”

  “Not really. It’s just a habit. With humans it’s always a good precaution.”

  “Then…”

  Dylan grinned. “I’d be delighted to do without.” He tossed it to the floor. “You’ve done this before? With women?”

  “To women,” Travis clarified. He hissed when cool lube trickled into his crack, followed by gentle massage.

  “Just relax. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I feel…mellow. Hot. Gotta come, but I’m floating.”

  “Good.” There was a smile in Dylan’s voice. He pressed and slid his finger into Travis’s hole, and Travis bore down, letting him enter. It should have felt threatening, invasive, but on the cushion of his high, Travis felt intimacy instead. Safe. It felt good and right to allow Dylan to direct his pleasure.

  “Now you’ll feel me.”

  Travis closed his eyes and visualized the blunt, graceful head of Dylan’s cock as it pressed, then slipped past the powerful rings of muscle and up into his body. It burned, blending into the heat left by the belt. It filled him, frightening him a little. He jerked, reacting, and a sharp hand came down on his ass.

  “Settle, Travis.”

  He buried his face in the sheets, struggling, then achieving composure. Once he was ready, he nodded, and Dylan continued his invasion.

  The pressure hit his prostate, and that insane sensation began again—fluid welling up and flowing from his balls.

  He melted.

  When they began to move together, his mind raced, scrambling to process the new sensations and the feelings they triggered. He felt overwhelmed, cast adrift, and yet secure…nurtured. Dylan covered him and rained kisses and gentle nips on his neck and shoulders. He stroked Travis’s back, murmuring praise. Travis felt loved. When he heard the strain in Dylan’s voice, the hitch in his breathing, he felt powerful, because the fae was losing his composure, and Dylan never showed weakness.

  Travis was strong, able to support the other man’s weight, and they rocked together; the bed squeaked; their skin slapped softly. The harder Dylan thrust, the better it felt.

  “Dylan!” His body was going tight, and he forced himself to relax, to step back from the winding climax. “D…”

  “Yes?” He slowed. “What do you need?”

  “You.” Travis turned his head, trying to look at Dylan. He couldn’t complete the thought, but the fae understood and withdrew from his body, then helped him roll to his back. Dylan quickly lubed up some more and, when Travis was ready, slid into his body, lowering himself and allowing Travis to wrap his arms around him tightly.

  Funny, there were so many jokes about doggy style among the shifters, but Travis liked to look at his lovers, to touch and feel their skin against his thighs and belly. Dylan stayed just high enough that Travis was able to run his hands over the fae’s pale skin, to catch a flashing glimpse of his cock as they fucked. He watched his face, seeing the emotions Dylan was now unable to disguise. His gaze never left Travis’s face except when he closed his eyes to focus on his own pleasure. His hair tumbled down and drifted over Travis’s lips, tickled his cheeks and neck.

  The sensation of him entering Travis this way was different, and he experimented, raising his hips and ass till he found the sweet spot and groaned in pleasure. He opened his eyes to see Dylan watching, a dark expression of satisfaction on his face. Travis leaned up and caught one of the fae’s nipples between his teeth, and was gratified to hear a sharp gasp, feel a stutter in Dylan’s tempo.

  He clearly liked that, so Travis tried again, this time digging fingers into the firm flesh of Dylan’s ass, running his hand up Dylan’s rib cage.

  “You’re so beautiful, Travis. Your body is so tight and strong. You make me lose myself…” Dylan trailed off, riding a wave of pleasure. Travis grinned through his own small seismic shift, then bore down with his ass and watched in fascination as the fae tossed his head back, arching his neck in ecstasy. “Oh…so close…”

  The guttural sound of Dylan’s voice unleashed something inside Travis, and it washed through him, ripping the control from his body. The climax rose, and he wrapped his arms around Dylan to hold him close. He buried his face in the fae’s shoulder, then bared his teeth and pressed them against salty skin. He reminded himself not to bite, not to mark, but damnation, the fae was his and no one else’s. His. The word “mine” bubbled up and was lost as he cried out, choking and strangling as his body contracted, his balls cramped, and his gland was crushed by the overpowering thrust of cock and muscle. He felt the warmth of his semen slip between their bodies; the earthy fragrance filled the small room. The sensation of Dylan coming deep inside was indescribable—so fucking hot.

  The fae writhed and twisted as he came, his face flushed, his chest ruddy. When Travis grabbed him and held him tight, he didn’t struggle. His soft groans were like music, and he panted, shuddering and spent, his face next to Travis’s.

  They were damp with sweat, weak from the power of their orgasms. Their skin was heated, and yet they remained entwined, legs tangled, fingers interlaced. Travis felt a swell of emotion and acknowledged it, yet refused to give it a name.

  Only Dylan.

  He wasn’t sure where that thought came from or what it meant, but it rolled around in his mind, disturbing his fuzzy afterglow. He must have gone tense, because Dylan looked at him soberly.

  “Relax, little wolf. Just hold me for now. Don’t think.”

  Dylan rolled off him, and they lay on their sides, faces just inches apart. Dylan ghosted a kiss on his lips, another on the tip of his nose.

  “You were magnificent. Beautiful.” Another kiss, one to each eye.

  “I’ve never felt anything like that. You…” Travis tried for a smile and probably failed. “You took me somewhere…”

  “Magic.”

  “Yeah. It was magic.” He ran a finger down Dylan’s ear and felt a tingle as his skin passed over the silver earrings.

  “It was magic for me too, Travis.” Dylan tightened his arms around him, and they lay there for a very long time, pushing sleep away for as long as possible.

  Travis got the feeling that Dylan never wanted it to end. He didn’t either.

  Chapter 15

  “Do you think you can help him?”

  Travis stood next to Dylan, gazing into the cell at the sick shifter. Calum lay curled up on his side, softly moaning. Unlike the others, he didn’t fight, didn’t pace or grieve. He’d surrendered. When he turned his head to look at his visitors, the expression in his eyes was toxic. Dylan had to remind himself not to step back in revulsion. Did the others not see this? He noted only pity in the gazes of the wolves, not fear.

  They should be afraid. Deacon had said this man was the best among them. That was no longer the case. Whether his injury had weakened him or he’d just submitted to the demon infecting his pack, his true
personality was gone.

  Shaken, Dylan turned away.

  “I’d prefer to start with the other. I’m afraid I might injure this one.” Without waiting for a response, he left the room, sensing the presence of Oliver Bleu at his back. “Hello, cousin.”

  “Cousin.” Bleu fell in beside him, a slight smile on his face.

  “You two are related?” Travis caught up and looked from one man to the other.

  “Not by blood, Travis.” Bleu said. “While the fae are born and the vampire is made, we share some elemental similarities.”

  “And some differences,” Dylan murmured. “In some ways, we are complete opposites.”

  “Which in itself is a link that connects us. Vampires are of the night. We are predators. Fae—the elvish sort in particular—are of the day. They are protectors.” He glanced at Dylan, obviously having noticed his nocturnal habits. In truth Dylan didn’t have a preference of day to night, but because most people slept in the darkness, that was when he worked.

  “I understand you need my assistance?” Bleu asked.

  Dylan looked at the vampire and noted his poetic beauty and quaint manners. The idea of him and Lukas Blacque as lovers didn’t quite work, yet when they were together, they were perfect.

  “I managed to put Deacon into a mild hypnotic trance yesterday. I’m not sure this next rogue will respond so easily. Maybe you can glamour him?”

  “I can try. He’s never shared his name, has he?”

  “No, but Deacon mentioned that the other shifter’s name is Calum. I want to start with this one first. I think he’ll be easier to work with.”

  “But he’s raging. Can’t you hear him?” Travis looked at him anxiously.

  Dylan reached out and tossed an arm over Travis’s shoulder. He didn’t particularly care who saw. They all knew what was going on, and he’d given Dane his promise. His time with the shifter was limited, and he needed every touch, every moment they could carve out.