Blind Hearts and Silenced Passion (3 page)

Perhaps the feel of Baqir's bulk on top of him should have
scared him, but it didn't, not in the slightest. In fact, feeling the warmth,
the strength, the passion his mate exuded swept away any doubts Remy might have
had. He tried to cling to Baqir, to show how much he wanted this, but it didn't
work quite the way he wanted it to.

It was laughable how easily Baqir managed to catch his wrists
and pin them down. He wasn't that much bigger than Remy, and yet, Remy blinked
and he found his hands immobilized above his head. All the while, Baqir never
stopped kissing him, stealing his breath, almost making his heart leap out of
his chest. Remy decided he didn't give a fuck about how he got what he wanted,
as long as Baqir kept kissing him just like that, kept touching him—never
stopped.

Their tongues dueled as they desperately fed on one another,
and Remy's head was spinning, his senses on overdrive. At this point, it was
likely not even because of Reynard's tea, but simply due to the fact that Baqir
was holding him so close, keeping him trapped, and yet protected.

It was easy to surrender to Baqir, to simply let go. Not even
breathing seemed to matter anymore. After all, he could easily take in the
oxygen in Baqir's lungs, couldn't he? A fuzzy part of him told him breathing
didn't work like that, but who the hell cared? As long as Remy could keep
touching and being touched, he'd happily go against the laws of nature.

When Baqir finally broke the kiss, Remy took a few seconds to
gather his wits—or at least make the attempt—then decided it was pointless and
threw all caution to the wind. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd forgone his sanity
when he'd followed his heart and brought Baqir here. And the thing was he had
absolutely no regrets—save one. "We have far too many clothes on," he
managed to whisper against his mate's lips.

Baqir seemed to agree, because he was suddenly clawing at Remy's
clothes, ripping off seams and tearing material. The space on the couch was
cramped, so he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver, but somehow, he managed.
Remy was not as successful, since Baqir had not yet released his wrists. Truly,
Remy was astonished that Baqir even had that kind of strength and dexterity
despite his intoxicated state. Of course, he was very happy to enjoy the
results. Baqir's heated fingers traced his ribcage, leaving trails of fire in
their wake. Paradoxically, it made Remy shiver, awakening sensitive nerve
endings he hadn't even been aware of.

Baqir's lips left his own, and Remy might have protested if
they hadn't latched onto his ear. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did, but
at this point, Remy thought that even Baqir's breath could bring him
unreasonable amounts of pleasure. He'd have almost thought Reynard had done
something more peculiar than usual to his tea, but he knew better. Touching his
mate and feeling him touch back was like a miracle, both soothing him and inflaming
him, giving him a sensation of rightness he hadn't experienced since he'd lost
his eyesight.

He'd tried so hard to forget about his loss, and then to
compensate for it. He'd sought to encourage his dead senses by the worst means
possible. But even then, even when he'd been lost in the dangerous highs of the
drugs Reynard had drawn him out of, he had never felt this way.

His head spun with lazy, unprecedented desire that pulsed
through every atom in his body. He was frustrated, because even if his mate had
managed to take off his shirt, he hadn't been as lucky when it came to his
pants. The material felt scratchy on his skin, constraining him, making him
ache in a blend of arousal, discontent and enthusiasm. He wasn't willing to
give up on their proximity, but neither was it enough. He needed more, so much
more, and he had no idea how to say it.

A lost gasp escaped him, one that under different
circumstances would have embarrassed him. "Baqir... Qiri..."

He didn't know where the pet name had come from, but maybe
Baqir could read him better than he could read himself. He broke away from
Remy, leaving him feeling temporarily bereft. He didn't even move his hands
from his previous position, even if Baqir released his wrists.

Baqir rubbed his thumb over Remy's lower lip, his dark eyes
scanning Remy's face with an intense, unfathomable emotion. Following a sudden
impulse, Remy opened his mouth and sucked the digit in. The flick of his tongue
triggered something unexpected in Baqir. All of a sudden, he snarled and
snatched Remy off the couch, draping him over his shoulder.

It would have probably gone a bit smoother had Remy had the
foresight to tell Baqir where the bedroom was, and had he not made the damn tea
beforehand. As it was, Baqir moved so quickly that he swayed and almost hit the
wall. From his place over Baqir's shoulder, Remy managed to point to the right
door. Mercifully, Baqir noticed and followed his silent instructions.

They stumbled together into the bedroom, and Baqir set Remy
down on the bed. Once more, Remy found himself looking up at his mate, much
like he had in the living room. It was different this time. Sexual tension
still burned bright and hot between them, but the urgency had shifted and
turned into something else, something more comfortable.

For a few seconds, Baqir and Remy stared at each other,
neither making a move to take things further. Remy was the one who burst into
laughter first, but Baqir swiftly followed. They laughed and laughed, probably
more than would have been warranted. "That was a little ridiculous,"
Baqir said between chuckles.

"It was," Remy agreed, "but personally, I
don't mind."

Baqir's laughter finally died, but he was still smiling when
he joined Remy on the bed. The smile didn't disappear even as he reached for Remy,
this time completely focused on getting rid of the clothing that had thwarted
him earlier.

He kissed Remy again, all the while popping the buttons of
his jeans one by one. Remy let his eyes drift shut and wrapped his arms around
Baqir's neck, losing himself to the lip-lock. By now, he knew better than to
think he'd have any luck with helping Baqir out of his own clothes, but that
was all right. He let his mate set the pace, because he couldn't think clearly,
not beyond the idea of 'yes, this, now'.

Baqir didn't disappoint. When he broke the kiss between them,
he did so only to pull off Remy's shoes and jeans. His own clothes were next,
and soon, they were both naked on Remy's bed, trembling with arousal and
unconcealed lust. At one point, Remy had abandoned his glasses, so there was
not a stitch of foreign material or any other item to distract them from one
another.

Remy would have liked to blame the way his world blurred on
the tea or his still poor eyesight, but he couldn't really lie to himself, and
he had no desire to do so. Besides, when their bodies entwined, he knew he had
just found an addiction that was stronger than anything he'd experienced
before. They were drunk on one another, and that was fine, because that craving
grew into lazy caresses that left trails of fire on Remy's body.

They kissed again, and it was so easy, so natural, like
they'd been born to do this, like they'd been sharing a breath for ages.
Arousal simmered under Remy's skin, but he made no attempt to exorcise it or
set it free. He embraced it, pouring it into the kiss while stealing Baqir's
mirroring desire.

Their tongues dueled and their fingers threaded together—and
it shouldn't have been as sexy as it was. A simple kiss and a touch shouldn't
have had such an effect on Remy, shouldn't have left him with barely enough
breath to focus on that very same lip-lock.

But it did, and oh, if he spent his whole life merely kissing
Baqir, Remy would die happy. He didn't expect or even necessarily need them to
go further—at least not until they did, and Baqir's clever fingers zeroed in on
his nipples.

Remy had never realized the tiny buds were an erogenous zone,
but one brush of Baqir's thumb over them had him arching into their kiss and
moaning unashamedly, demanding more. A lightning bolt of bliss shot through
him, pooling straight into his already hard-as-nails dick.

And Baqir was only just beginning. He broke the kiss, giving
Remy a few seconds to breathe, before he stole that chance once again, this
time in a different way. His kisses traveled all over Remy's face, then down
his neck, trailing his collarbone, until at last they reached Remy's chest.
Still fondling one nipple with his fingers, he sucked the other in his mouth.

Remy grunted and gripped Baqir's shoulder. The scent of blood
told him that he'd once again lost control of his claws. But Baqir just
continued his ministrations on Remy, all the while grinding his own erect dick
against Remy's thigh.

He didn't seem in a rush either, each motion of his hips
lazy, as if it was a side-thought to witnessing Remy's pleasure. In a weird
way, Remy could empathize, because that was what he wanted as well—Baqir's
ecstasy, not his own.

Only, the two were not separate. Just like two mates were
merely pieces of a larger whole, their sexuality was entwined as well. Remy's
body responded naturally, and he released his death grip on Baqir's shoulder
just so that he could do some exploring of his own.

He allowed his hands to roam over the smooth expanse of
Baqir's back, marveling at the barely veiled strength he could feel in the
tense muscles. He was a werewolf too, so he shouldn't be impressed, but even
Remy's beast recognized a stronger predator. His instinct was to surrender
everything he was to this man, and so he did.

He spread his legs in an attempt to accommodate Baqir better,
silently offering himself to his mate. Baqir got the message. He released
Remy's nipple from his mouth and let out a growl that sounded more animalistic
than manlike.

The next thing Remy knew, his mate had crawled down his body
and was taking his cock in his mouth. Wet heat enveloped Remy's prick, and he
buried his fingers in Baqir's hair, half to seek an anchor against the
onslaught of pleasure, half to demand more of it.

Baqir didn't deny him, not in the least. In fact, he
increased the rhythm of the suction, seemingly intent on driving Remy insane
with lust. Right then and there, it appeared to be a feat he was more than
capable of accomplishing. Remy tried to hold on, to maintain at least some sort
of grip on his sanity—but he well and utterly failed. Baqir's determination was
even stronger than his own, and well... Remy would challenge anyone who had
such a talented mouth on his cock to do anything differently.

Baqir took Remy's dick all the way into his throat, and that
was all she wrote. With a devastated cry, Remy arched his back and came,
spending himself in his mate's mouth.

Baqir drank down every drop of his spunk with a greed that
told Remy he was not alone in his new addiction. When he released Remy's dick
from his mouth, he looked up, and his eyes were wild and filled with a passion
and a need that stirred the comfortable warmth of Remy's afterglow into a
renewed blaze of arousal.

Baqir didn't have to ask, but Remy said it nonetheless.
"Yes. Please. Claim me."

The words came out raspy, in a voice he barely recognized as
his own, but they had their intended effect. A heartbeat later, Baqir was on
him once again. Their mouths clashed, and Remy tasted himself on Baqir's
tongue. It was incredibly sensual, and it made the already very intimate moment
more so. When they broke the kiss, it was only for Remy to accommodate Baqir
better, and Baqir took advantage of the occasion to reach for the nightstand
and rummage inside.

Remy couldn't imagine why Baqir had gone for that particular
place to search for what they needed. Perhaps he was just that predictable, and
Baqir had guessed. Or maybe Baqir had been able to scent the substance. It
didn't really matter—just the end result did—and in this case, the result was
more than satisfying. Baqir flipped Remy on all fours and Remy eagerly went
along with it, pushing his ass back in wordless demand.

He heard Baqir release a growl of unrestrained desire, and it
swept over him like a physical caress. And then, his mate spread his ass cheeks
and a hot wet tongue swept over his crease.

The taboo touch was almost more than Remy could bear. If he
hadn't already come minutes earlier, he would have undoubtedly found his peak
on the spot. As it was, the sensations that exploded over him still took Remy
aback. He had not expected Baqir to do something like this. The shameless
hunger with which Baqir devoured him threatened to shatter him, to consume him
whole, and Remy was more than willing and very eager to be consumed.

Baqir thrust his tongue into Remy's channel, stabbing the
slick muscle deep inside Remy's hole, using it like a little cock to stretch
Remy. Remy tried to maintain some sort of hold over his composure, but he
didn't have a chance. He ended up pushing back against Baqir, fucking Baqir's
face and completely unable to stop.

Baqir didn't seem to mind, allowing Remy to do as he
willed—up to a point, at least. A fog of dizzying arousal settled over Remy, so
much so that he didn't immediately process the moment Baqir stopped.

Later, Remy would probably blame his reaction on the shock of
how bereft he felt at that sudden absence. It was almost embarrassing. When
Remy registered the fact that Baqir had ceased his ministrations on his ass, he
experienced an odd sense of loss. He cried out and attempted to turn, only to
be stopped at the last moment by Baqir.

Baqir was still there, of course. If Remy had been thinking
clearly, he'd have realized it, his werewolf hearing and sense of smell more
than able to pinpoint Baqir's location. However, Remy couldn't really dwell on
any mortification he should have felt, not when one of Baqir's strong hands
settled on the small of Remy's back and the other on his hip.

It was steadying, and it cleared Remy's mind—for about half a
second. After that, the hand on his back left and when it returned, it focused
once again on Remy's opening. Baqir's fingers were now slick with lubricant and
they slid inside Remy easily, Remy's flesh eagerly parting for the invasion.