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  It was passionate and powerful. Hunter couldn't resist the lure of stroke and rub, his own tongue drawn into a dance of slide and savor with Malcolm's agile mouth. His ass fluttered and spasmed wide then clenched, his gut achingly empty, longing to be filled, ridden, stretched, and claimed. The cock sliding across his belly felt so long, so cool, so hard on his heated flesh. The mental image of a huge penis-shaped ice sculpture filling his ass flashed across his mind. His cock jerked, and he felt it spill a small pool of pre-cum, boiling hot to sticky cool in seconds as the chill night air stole its heat. He writhed and turned, his fists pounding on Malcolm's shoulder, first pushing the vampire away, then pulling him closer, fear and lust battling in every touch, grunt, and moaning whimper.

  There was a light pinpoint prick to the side of his tongue that made Hunter start and pull his tongue back. One of Malcolm's thick, square hands grabbed his jaw, holding him in place and his mouth open as the vampire's tongue lapped at the lining of his mouth and suckled at the bleeding wound. The sting of the cut intensified, then spread, fanning out to run tiny rivers of fire down his skin. He felt like he'd been doused in gasoline, skin raw, burning, ready to ignite at the first hint of a spark. And then the whispers where back in his head, a mellow, rich baritone, smoothing away the burn and extinguishing the pain while they fed the passion and desire.

  Hunter stopped pushing Malcolm away. He wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck and returned the fervor of the kiss in kind, giving Malcolm control but without giving up his own desires. He freed a leg and threw it over Malcolm's hip and ass, locking it around one of his heavily muscled thighs, heel digging in as hard as he could.

  Malcolm wrenched Hunter's head away and stared down into his unrepentant eyes.

  "I want more, Malcolm. I want you to fuck me. If you're going to own me, do it right. Claim every part of me."

  A hard, penetrating glare sliced through Hunter. Malcolm had gone still, his grip on Hunter's jaw and in his hair like a vise, menacing, reminding Hunter who and what he was in bed with.

  "I don't take orders.” It was a silky whisper, more frightening than a bellowed roar. A single, chastising kiss ghosted over his lips. “From anyone."

  Hunter had to work to keep from tearing up from the painful hold in his hair. “If you want, think of it as a last request.” He felt his heart pulse in his neck, felt the skin tighten over it, heard the rapid thump-thump-thump in his ears. He knew Malcolm could see his pulse by the way the vampire's look flickered to his neck between narrow-eyed glares and sneering, lethally whispered words.

  "If I want?” It was light, amused even, a sudden change in attitude. “Is that what you want as your last request? To be fucked?” Malcolm rolled his hips and tilted his groin, causing a grind and rub of cool cock against hot cock.

  Hunter groaned, biting his lip to keep from crying out, frustrated need boiling in his gut, scalding through his veins and nerves. “Since I don't think I stand a chance in hell of surviving this?” The cold, predator's glint in the vampire's eyes caught his attention. He swallowed hard, fear gaining a new foothold. “Yes. I'd rather it was something more, but yes, I'll settle for fucking."

  "Why something more?” Malcolm frowned. “The physical act is enjoyable without the emotional attachment.” Hunter tried to arch and grind again, but Malcolm pressed him firmly onto the mattress, stilling his movements by sheer greater weight.

  "Honestly?"

  A slight narrowing of Malcolm's gaze gave Hunter permission to go on. He felt his face heat. His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip, and Malcolm's gaze flickered down to watch. Hunter tasted spiced copper. The knowledge that it was left behind by Malcolm made his mouth water and his gut burn with need.

  "I guess I've got nothing to lose by saying it out loud. It's not like there's going to be a morning after to get embarrassed over sappy cock talk, right?” Tears stung his eyes, and he gasped a little to bring them under control before they had the chance to humiliate him by falling.

  The hold on his jaw lessened. Hunter worked his jaw to ease the stiffness in it, then sighed, eyes focusing on Malcolm's steady gaze. “It's just ... you're everything I've ever fantasized about in a lover. You make me feel everything I've dreamed about. Passion, danger, power, need, animal attraction.” His fists balled on the muscled ridge of Malcolm's broad shoulders, pressing hard on the alabaster surface. “If things had been different, maybe even ... love."

  He snorted a weak laugh, knowing he sounded like a schoolgirl. “I guess that's why you're not human.” He snorted a short laugh again, and this time a single drop of moisture managed to trickle out the corner of one eye and into his hair. “To be my perfect fantasy lover, you'd have to be unreal, wouldn't you?"

  Malcolm was still and silent for so long, cold gray eyes boring into his, Hunter began to think something was wrong with the vampire. Even the whisper in his head had gone silent, but he could still feel its power drifting in his mind, a constant presence, as if a cool mountain stream trickled through the nooks and crannies of his brain.

  Something shifted in Malcolm's stare, the icy stare, one thumb moving to caress the line of Hunter's cheek. It was alarmingly affectionate, the deep, low voice now raw and oddly pitched. “Do you want to survive this, Hunter Pray?"

  Red tendrils fanned out from the edges of icy-icy gray in Malcolm's irises, turning the whites of his eyes to pools of scarlet.

  Hunter's breath froze in his lungs, and he had to gasp to keep the growing dizziness at bay.

  "I don't know.” In his head, the whisper crooned soft and low again, and a renewed rush of thrilled desire made his skin prickle. Passion and lust battled with a sudden panicked urge to flee. “Will I want to survive?"

  "I don't know.” A thin smile flickered across Malcolm pale lips, his gaze taking in every inch of Hunter's face, evaluating him. He worked the gold ring from Hunter's unresisting fist. Without looking away from Hunter's wide-eyed, lust-filled stare, he tossed it on the bedside table and then raked a heavy, manicured nail over Hunter's exposed jugular, a predator's gleam in his eyes. “No one ever has."

  A shudder ran through Hunter, but he didn't honestly know if it was from fear or anticipation. Both sensations prompted him to suck his lower lip between his teeth and bite down. He flinched at the sharp sting, but the thick, slippery liquid that washed over his lip and bathed his tongue tasted rich and warm.

  The grip on his hair became almost intolerable. He knew the vampire didn't breathe, but he was sure he heard a small gasp that wasn't his. Past the point of no return, Hunter touched the tip of his tongue to the blood, deliberately smearing it over his parted lips. “Let's find out, then."

  Malcolm pounced before Hunter drew his next breath. Skilled hands and cool, firm lips were everywhere at once but never in one place long. His mouth was ravaged, his eyelids kissed, face caressed, and ribs traced with blunt, callused fingers. His hair was pulled to arch his neck, the faintly shadowed skin exposed, only to be licked and nuzzled, scraped with blunt teeth, and then ignored. His skin was lapped at, scoured, sucked, and nipped from his chin to his taut, burning nipples, then down across his quivering belly, the wet trail ending in the crease of his thigh where leg met trunk, and back again. All the while Malcolm's large hands gripped his wrists tightly. Hunter's frustration mounted, accompanied by an undeniable wanton desire to be claimed and marked in any manner the vampire wanted. Hunter felt almost suffocatingly full, a second presence in his thoughts, but his body was empty and yearned to be filled as well.

  He screamed silently for relief. His fear swung from fear of being bitten to the fear of not. He wanted Malcolm more than he had ever wanted any other lover. He could blame the mental link the vampire declared was created when Hunter swallowed Malcolm's blood, but he was honest enough with himself to recognize that he had wanted this mysterious, menacing stranger long before that. His flesh burned for more, his cock so hard it pulsed with the rapid pounding flow of blood from his hammering heartbeat.

  Ever
y cell of his body tingled. Every touch of Malcolm's tongue was like a cool caress that chilled him and pumped the flames of desire higher. Hunter twisted and bucked, his hips and thighs pinned to the mattress by the weight of Malcolm's upper body nestled between his spread limbs.

  He yanked on his wrists, desperate to free them from their immobilizing hold. He wanted to run his hands over the rippling muscles and chiseled perfection of broad shoulders, to see how crisp the short hair on Malcolm's head was, to pull his face toward him and kiss his pale, firm lips. Instead he was forced to endure a thousand sensations battering at his senses with no relief or respite. His groans and gaps filled the night air with the sounds of pained pleasure, broken occasionally by a rumbled grunt of appreciation as Malcolm's hands and mouth brought Hunter to the brink of climax and back down again. His cock was untouched as yet but for the irregular bump of cheek or chin as Malcolm explored the bony ridges of his groin or mouthed the nest of fawn-colored hair.

  It came as an unexpected shock when Malcolm's mouth closed over his cock. Hunter jumped at the delicious slide of wet flesh sucked vigorously down over the spongy tip. Then he squirmed and bucked at the unanticipated sting and burn of razor-sharp teeth raking down the shaft as Malcolm swallowed his erection to the base. Now he knew why his hands had been confined. The pain flared, a bright flash so intense, sweat broke out and ran in rivulets to the sheets. Then as suddenly as it burst on him, the pain faded, replaced by a velvet vise filled with warm honey, gliding over his abused cock, soothing the wounds and making him harder than he had been. Hunter realized Malcolm used his lips to capture the blood as it flowed, holding, using it to wet his cock, bathing it in his own blood, lubricating and feasting on him at the same time.

  Looking down, eyes forced open by desire to watch his ruddy pink cock disappearing between those blood-smeared lips, Hunter found his breath caught in his throat. The sight of Malcolm's mouth, pursed, wrapped around his shaft, pink cock and pale lips now the same shade of glistening black/red, the contrast shocking, exotic, revitalized the flash of pain he felt when the blood was drawn. It sent bolts of ecstasy sizzling through his body, muscles spasming, skin flushed anew and his asshole clenching, empty and wanting.

  He turned his hands until his fingertips could grab hold of some of the flesh of Malcolm's hands, and he dug his nails in, refusing to be denied a human connection to his vampire lover. The excitement, this pain, this glory was meant to be shared. He felt a growled groan of heated lust vibrate through his cock and into the pit of his stomach. The sound shattered the last barrier to his climax. His hips reared up, cock planted deep in Malcolm's throat. His whole world exploded. Cum boiled up from deep inside. He could trace its path with his senses. It left his abdomen, ripped through his balls and up his cock like a tiny volcano erupting, scalding liquid cascading from his body in pulsed ribbons, all of it consumed by Malcolm's measures, sure swallows and sucking lips.

  Hunter was flying. The force of his climax echoed in his chest, welled in every bead of sweat, jumped in his synapses, and left a buzzing in his ears. He hung in a euphoric cloud, bathed in the heat of intense pleasure, wrapped in a sheet of strength that was at once both comforting and restraining. His mind slowly drifted back to make contact with his body, a heavy, sated exhaustion blanketing him. That orgasm had come from the center of his being.

  Languid as a drug addict floating on the effects of an unprecedented high, Hunter didn't resist being rolled onto his stomach. Malcolm stretched out full length along his back, the vampire's powerful thighs pushing Hunter's open and up to allow Malcolm's thick cock to nestle snugly between his cheeks.

  A low murmur growled distinctly in his ear, and anticipation shot through every fiber in Hunter's hypersensitive body as the vampire announced, “Now that the edge is gone from your immediate need ... we do this right."

  "Edge?” His voice was breathless, his throat hoarse, dry, from panting. “That was a whole lot more than my edge, Malcolm."

  "You just think it was.” A hard nip of teeth pinched the flesh at the curve of his neck. Hunter shuddered, waiting for a solid bite. Nothing followed except Malcolm's whispered, “Trust me, pet, we've just begun."

  Hunter tensed, expecting a sudden and harsh penetration. His skin tingled, gooseflesh erupting as tiny nibbles and wet, soothing licks bathed his shoulders and back. Malcolm. Malcolm lazily lapping the sweat off Hunter, tasting the flesh from his neck to the small of his back.

  The shock wore off quickly, arousal returning, planting a twisted knot of anticipation in Hunter's belly and coaxing his limp cock, if not to fill, to at least take notice of the renewed attention. Malcolm inched down Hunter's back a lick and nibble at a time. He paused at the small scabbed cut on Hunter's back made by the flying bench pieces, sucking and worrying the raw flesh until Hunter squirmed and grunted his discomfort. Then he tore open the scratch with a razor-sharp slash of a tooth. It burned like being sliced with a honed paring knife.

  Hunter could feel his blood well to the surface before Malcolm's greedy mouth sucked it away. The vampire's tongue pressed into the wound, spreading its edges so it bled more freely. It was painful in a small hurt sort of way, but Hunter's mind moved from the discomfort to realizing how erotic Malcolm's mouth felt pressed against his back, how sensually the vampire's lips massaged his flesh while they suckled, how stiff and blunt the tongue probing into his body felt, these same mouth, lips, and tongue that had just given him a blowjob like never before. It all became seductive and exotic, the pain now a tingling warmth that spread out and down to his groin.

  His cock stirred and filled, rubbing over wrinkled sheets trapped under his hips. Before he could start thrusting against the linen for friction, Malcolm slid down between his legs, nudging his thighs open with his shoulders, giving silent commands to Hunter by a touch of his hand. A palm pressed lightly on the inner thigh told Hunter to raise his leg higher; a tap to his arm that was fumbling under him for a hold on his cock told him to remove his hand. He reluctantly obeyed without understanding how he knew what to do.

  Hands massaged his ass cheeks in a slow, kneading rhythm that pushed them together tightly then moved them apart so the cool air struck the tight, hidden bud of his opening, making it ache with need. God, how he wanted to be filled, taken, claimed the way Malcolm had threatened to do. He wanted a long, thick cock inside of him, and more than that, he wanted it to be Malcolm's cock. He wanted Malcolm to take him, ravage him, make love to him. If he was going to die, this was the way to go.

  A sudden stab of slick wetness mixed with the cool room air. Hunter grunted and jerked, his hands twisting the sheets in his fists to keep from rearing up out of bed. A firm bluntness probed at his eager hole, and Hunter groaned out his pleasure into the pillows. He couldn't stop himself from arching his back and raising his hips, pushing back onto the slick pleasure of Malcolm's jabbing, stroking, questing tongue. It was too much and not enough. Roughly thrilling against the sensitive nerve endings of the tight ring of guardian muscle, yet too little to dissolve the gaping, empty void of needing to be filled.

  "I want more. I need more."

  Gasping, Hunter tried to rise up on his knees, to press back and impale himself as deeply as possible on the tongue now bathing the rim of his opening. A hard, thundering slap to one cheek made him gasp and freeze, the firecracker of sudden pain unexpected. A large hand placed on the small of his back froze him in place on his knees, supported by his own hands and trembling thighs in an awkward half-crouch. He stayed that way, panting and trembling, silent, Malcolm's tongue still teasing the rim of his asshole. Finally, the hand moved from his back to one hip, steadying him, drawing Hunter into a more comfortable angle.

  A fingertip played over the moist opening, rubbing light circles over the wrinkled, puckered edges, pushing into the yielding center just enough that Hunter could feel the stretch and anticipate the coming fullness. But the finger never ventured further, retreating again and again to rub big and small loops on his skin, its tantalizing
trail occasionally made slicker by a darting jab of tongue.

  Hunter could barely stay upright. His body trembled with need, and his skin prickled with sizzling bolts of growing desire. His cock hung free between his spread thighs, full and heavy. With his forehead pressed into the mattress he had a good view of his cock jutting out from his belly, its dusky rose length curved to his navel, clearing the bed by several inches in its erect state. Beyond his legs, between them, stood sculptured slabs of pale marble thighs and a pendulous sac surrounded by curls of coarse hair. He couldn't see Malcolm's cock, but he could feel it bump against the curve of his ass now and then, and he could see it in his mind's eye, knew it was inches away from his open and ready ass, glistening, thick, and heavy.

  He tried to lower his groin enough to touch the bed, to gain friction on his cock's head, but another hard, stinging slap to his already sensitive butt cheek stopped him. He couldn't stop the choked groan that escaped. Flushed and fevered, every nerve singing for relief, his mind felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, disoriented and slow. Only his cock and ass seemed to have a clear connection with his brain, both parts overwhelmed by sensation and need. But every time Hunter's passion began to arch toward climax, Malcolm changed his tactics and the glow faded, then built again under a new rhythm of stroking caresses.

  Finally, the touch stayed long enough that Hunter felt the stirring of an orgasm coiling deep in his abdomen. It gathered energy, his entire focus narrowed to the pattern of licks and jabs on his opening and ass, building higher and higher toward the point of no return. He sensed more than heard the low, deep murmur in his head say something he couldn't comprehend at that moment, and then, like a light bulb gone bad, all stimulation was instantly gone, taking with it the building buzz and pressure of climax.