Hellsinger 01 - Fish and Ghosts (P) (MM) (18 page)

“Tea parties. Wait, no, that’s what life’s about. Wrong answer,” he said, then pulled down Tristan’s body to blow a raspberry into his belly button.

He slid off the bed and closed the door before rejoining Tristan. Shoving the flyers, beads, and a couple of bottles of bubbles off of the mattress, Wolf moved the lubricant and condoms to the side so he could stretch out over Tristan without losing what they’d need later.

“Oh….” Tristan’s changeable eyes were drenched in emerald, and a blush ran up his belly before staining his cheeks pink. “Boris.”

“Yeah, Boris,” Wolf chuckled. “Nice enough guy, but I think he can keep himself occupied in the living room for a while.”

“He’ll probably sleep.”

“So long as he’s the only one in this apartment sleeping, then I’m okay with that.” Wolf hooked his fingers into the waistband of Tristan’s underwear. “You ready for me, Señor Pryce?”

“That’s got to be the weirdest thing someone’s ever said to me.” Tristan’s shyness was back. Wolf could see it creeping up to smother the laughter in his gorgeous face, a somber veil to drape over any scrap of happiness Tristan might have found inside himself.

“Oh no, Tris,” Wolf cautioned the other man. “No hiding away from me. Not now.”

He raked away the golden strands that fell across Tristan’s sharp cheekbones and firm mouth, pushing them aside so he could see the man’s nearly ethereal beauty. Their differences fascinated him, and Wolf was intrigued by the creamy lengths of porcelain skin laid out for him to taste.

Tristan’s cotton briefs were a slash of unexpected color across the seemingly endless stretch of ivory and gold of Tristan’s body. The intense purple drew out the delicate blue veins across Tristan’s hips and belly, creating a cobweb of enticement Wolf’s tongue practically itched to follow. A dark damp spot marred the briefs’ unyielding tint, and a whiff of bittersweet salt clung to the moistness, drawing Wolf in even more.

“I want to taste you,” Wolf murmured as he kneeled down between Tristan’s legs. “Will you let me do that, Tristan? Can I just spend some time seeing what you’re like on my tongue? ’Cause damn, I think you’re going to make me drunker than any scotch I’ve ever had, and I want to take my damned sweet time drinking you in.”

He didn’t wait to hear Tristan’s response. The man was definitely reserved, and if Wolf could spare more than a thought to giving him pleasure, he knew he’d probably find an anger toward Tristan’s family for hemming in his wild fey nature. There was a freedom inside of Tristan. Wolf could feel it beating against cage walls crafted by hard, hateful words and skeptical derision.

And Wolf silently promised Tristan he’d be damned first before he helped paint those bars with any bit of gold to gild them. If anything, he’d break himself before he allowed Tristan to be held in that cage any longer. In the watery light of Tristan’s bedroom, Wolf would show him the way out, hoping to show him a pleasure of being he’d not found before.

Tristan Pryce deserved that. Hell, Wolf owed him that for the stabs of criticism and doubt he’d thrust into Tristan’s life. It took a fey-pretty, strong blond man to remind him of the mysteries in the world, and Wolf was not going to repay that gift by taking more of Tristan’s faith.

Hell, Wolf thought, he probably was the one in the cage and Tristan was the one setting
him
free.

Staring up the length of Tristan’s long, slender body, Wolf was caught by the man’s hooded gaze. The duality of Tristan’s soul lay bare on his face, a delicate, pure innocence striated with a weary, tattered wisdom Wolf wanted to patch together with kisses. The man’s bruised beauty was enough to make him cry, especially since his mouth seemed rarely visited by an unguarded smile.

“Can I, Tristan?” Wolf nearly begged as he leaned forward to run his hands up Tristan’s side. “Will you let me?”

Tristan’s breath hitched when Wolf’s fingers rubbed his nipples into hard points, and his eyes darkened, flushing a shade of forest that nearly matched the thickets outside the Grange’s walls. A single nod would have done Wolf in. A single word would be more than Wolf could hope for.

“Please,” Tristan purred, that hot slither of amber sex in his voice turning molten. “Yes, Wolf. Please.”

Something in Wolf broke. Whatever held him back shattered under the hammer strokes of Tristan’s erotic whisper. Suddenly his mouth was too empty of Tristan’s flesh, and he needed to fill himself with anything he could have of the man lying before him.

Wolf hooked his teeth under the dark spot on Tristan’s underwear, and the ghost of the man’s taste lingered on his lip before he had a chance to fully suckle him in. Drawn hard by the touch, Tristan’s cock danced away from Wolf’s mouth, leading him on a merry chase beneath its cotton veil.

Frustrated, Wolf hooked his thumbs into the briefs’ elastic and pulled them down to Tristan’s thighs, binding the man’s legs in. He was too impatient, and despite his promise to go slow, Wolf found himself pushing at his own control, which bowed beneath his lust. Dipping his head, he opened his mouth and lapped at the tiny bit of pearly liquid seeping from Tristan’s slender, pale cock.

It was as if someone poured a drop of a silvery-lit night onto his tongue, and Wolf was afraid to swallow, in case he never had the taste of stars in his mouth ever again.

He needn’t have worried. Tristan’s body arched at the touch of Wolf’s lips, and his hands scrambled to find something to hold onto. He first grabbed at the sheets, leaving a trail of muddy specks on the pristine cotton. Then one hand fisted Wolf’s hair, pulling on the strands until they were wrapped around his hand nearly painfully tight. A leak of seed pooled over Wolf’s cupped tongue, and he sipped at it, slowly letting the musky smoke of Tristan’s cock fill him.

“Kincaid.” The man curled up, his knees splaying out on either side of Wolf’s shoulders. “No, I can’t….”

“It’s okay, Tris.” Wolf tried to stamp down the disappointment in his voice, but it was ripe inside of him. “If you want to stop, I can—”

“I don’t want to stop,” Tristan panted and cupped Wolf’s face in his lean hands. “I just want you in me. Please. I… want this, and I don’t think I’m going to last much longer. God, just please, Wolf.
Please
.”

It took Wolf only a moment to peel off the rest of his clothes. Then he had the pleasure of sliding Tristan’s starkly purple briefs down the length of the man’s long legs. He reached for Tristan’s ankle and kissed the bone there, biting at it playfully. Tristan jerked his leg up, and Wolf followed it, holding onto Tristan’s other ankle as he traversed up the other man’s thigh in small, wet nibbles.

“I am going to say it again.” Wolf laved at one of Tristan’s plum-hued nipples. “You, Tristan Pryce, are so fucking beautiful it almost hurts my eyes to look at you. And God help me, I am
never
going to stop telling you that. Whenever I can. Maybe even after you finally believe me.”

T
HEY
WERE
so different. Tristan could
feel
their differences in his bones. Wolf’s cockiness, the arrogance of his spirit, and the staunch belief the world was for his taking amazed Tristan to a stunned silence.

But nothing stunned him more than hearing the gorgeous Wolf Kincaid murmur sweet nothings over his body and then telling Tristan he’d be there forever.

It was bedroom talk. Tristan knew the flimsiness of such words. They had as much substance as the ghosts who wisped into his life every few days and stole his towels, taking them to God knew where. He only hoped that when Wolf left, he’d leave his thievery to the Grange’s bath linens instead of stealing Tristan’s heart as well.

And if he did—Tristan closed his eyes so Wolf couldn’t see the pain he knew would be filling them—at least he would have this time with the brash, piratical investigator to look back upon and say he’d brought someone incredible to his pleasure. That would have to be enough. He was a Pryce, Tristan reminded himself. Pryces didn’t do happily-ever-afters. And when there was anything remotely resembling an after, it either died into a business-like relationship or crashed against the rocks in a violent demise.

There were no afters. Only nows. And Tristan was going to grab hold of the one right in front of him and let it ride him until he could only smell, taste, and feel Wolf Kincaid.

“It’s enough,” he murmured when he heard the lubricant jar click open and the smell of rich chocolate nearly drowned the aroma of their mingled bodies. “Take a chance. It’s going to be enough.”

“I don’t have any on my fingers yet, so no, there’s not enough.” Wolf kissed the inside of Tristan’s knee. Skimming his hand over Tristan’s belly, he traced small circles around his navel. “Tell me you’re sure, Tristan. Please… whatever you say, I’ll go with you.”

When he opened his eyes, Tristan was surprised to see how close Wolf was to his face. The man’s eyes filled his vision, an ocean of possibilities, most of them wicked and wet.

Hooking his hands around the back of Wolf’s head, Tristan pulled him in for a kiss. It was savage, brought up from someplace primal Tristan didn’t even realize he had in him. At least not until he found himself delving deep into Wolf’s mouth with his tongue to steal the breath from the man’s body.

He pulled off, still holding Wolf firm between his spread palms, and cocked his head. “How much more are you going to make me beg, Wolf Kincaid?”

“No, babe,” Wolf panted. “No need to beg. I got it.”

He hit the bed again, pushed down by one of Wolf’s powerful hands. The chocolate scent grew stronger; then he felt the brush of cold fingers along his taint. Tristan jerked, nearly bringing his knees up into Wolf’s chin.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just wasn’t… expecting… I thought you had… lube on your fingers.”

“No, we’re not quite there yet.” Wolf grinned, then kissed him soundly as he lowered his knees. “I didn’t realize my hands were so cold. Want me to warm them up?”

“Just on me,” Tristan replied softly. “’Cause I’m a little bit too warm, I think.”

“No such thing, Ace.” Wolf made a face. “Okay that’s worse than babe. Let’s not do that again.”

“Yeah, makes me think of Batman’s dog.”

“No, all dogs… are outside.” Wolf’s words were spaced out, interrupted by tiny kisses along Tristan’s rib cage and then down his belly. “Okay, the ones I can see. Let’s hope the other fucker has some common courtesy.”

When the man’s mouth reached the soft skin below his navel, Tristan sucked in as much cold, rain-scented air as he could and arched his head back into a pillow, driven half out of his mind by Wolf’s slow passes over his hips and the faint scattering of hair above his cock.

Where Wolf’s mouth left him wet and hot, his questing fingers found the delicious, aching spots on Tristan’s body and tugged at them until Tristan’s skin was tight with need. He was being played. There were strings of nerves beneath Wolf’s fingertips and palms, rough, reedy cords being tuned with every long caress.

A ghosting touch of Wolf’s finger at his entrance bucked Tristan into a shocking refrain of clashing cymbals and thundering heartbeats. He became a symphony of oddly synced instruments, his gasping pants setting the beat for Wolf’s playing.

Then Wolf’s mouth closed over the head of his cock, and Tristan lost all thoughts of fancy and music.

His body had only felt the touch of his own hand, and until that moment… until he felt the tip of Wolf’s tongue along the slit of his cockhead, Tristan thought no one could know him as well as he knew himself.

Oh, how fucking wrong he was.

If he’d been driven mad before, he was surely down the rabbit hole looking to kick a lizard up through a chimney now. Wolf’s fingers rolled his balls around, stroking them downward, and his thumb played first at his taint, then circled down to his ass, teasing at its entrance with gentle, insistent pushes. The tiny slurping sounds of Wolf’s mouth on his length were nearly timed with his exhales, and Tristan writhed, instinctively thrusting down on Wolf’s hand as it explored his body.

He wanted to feel Wolf there. Needed to feel more than the feathering kiss of his thumb and the barest snag of Wolf’s fingernail on the skin beneath his tight balls. Tristan’s thighs tightened, painfully so, and he forced himself to relax, afraid he’d come apart before Wolf found his pleasure.

At the very least, he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

Another pass of Wolf’s seemingly endless tongue along the corona of his cock and Tristan wasn’t sure he’d live through the afternoon, much less not shame himself by emptying his balls into Wolf’s mouth and hands.

“Wolf….” Another gasp ran through him, this one shuddering and hard. His spine hurt from its reverberations, and the small of his back itched for the press of Wolf’s body against it. “I don’t know if…. God….”

“You ready for me, Tris?” Wolf’s guttural whisper was muted by a mouthful of Tristan’s cock. “Because, God, I am
so
ready for you.”

He couldn’t do much more than nod, halfway aware Wolf couldn’t really see him. It didn’t seem to matter. The wanton spread of his raised legs and his nerveless fingers stroking at the man’s broad shoulders was enough to tell the man what he needed to know.

“I’m going to warm the lube up a little bit in my hand, okay?” Wolf lifted his head from Tristan’s hips and kissed his belly button, tonguing its ridge in a mimicry of his thumb’s flirtatious advances on Tristan’s hole. “Just a second and then I’ll be right there with you.”

Some part of his mind heard something tear and the snap of something against skin. A curious chemical odor joined the chocolate before disappearing beneath the drench of their musk. Then Wolf’s fingers were back… and this time, they were coated slick and rimming around his entrance in a slow, lazy spiral.

He couldn’t lift his knees up any farther, and for the first time in his life, Tristan wondered if he could possibly take yoga so he could learn to fold himself up for Wolf to take him.

“You okay, Tris?” Wolf’s kisses were centered first on his nipples before moving up the length of Tristan’s throat. He must have made some insensible “yes” noise, because Wolf’s chuckle was a delightful, wicked thing, hot and sultry enough to send another wave of tingles down Tristan’s spine. “Put your legs on my hips, babe, and I’ll do the rest.”