Ingenious #1

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

T o smooth the transition into the bedroom, Cutty and Stefan waited inside the living room. The couple had anticipated Max carrying Quiggs through the door, both reeking of gin. They had not foreseen Quiggs’s ripped shirt or the corset hanging over his hips.

Stefan stepped forward, his effusive congratulations shriveling. He picked up the corset draped over Quiggs’s hip. The torn crotch sent him staggering back to the sofa, too shocked to pull out his silver flask. “How could you lose control, Max? The poor baby was half in love with his Miles. Your claiming should have been perfect.” Stefan burst into sobs at the ruined romance.

All Max had wanted since this morning was to get Quiggs alone in bed. Not run a gauntlet of thieving politicians, filthy rhymes, free drinks with odes to his impetuous cock, and now a sobbing Stefan. “Poor scared baby, my ass! He mauled me for it!”

Cutty intervened. As his name suggested, he cut through the nonsense straight to the heart of the matter. “Claws misbehaving, sir?”

“He put my hand on his cock. The claws sprang. He came. I was surprised. I doubt he’ll remember anything.” Max winced as he admitted, “We left first.”

Stefan stopped sobbing. “Really? Oh, Cutty, we missed the rhymes! Had I known, but I didn’t. We stayed here to set up a romantic love nest. What do you think?” He spread his arms wide, the outrage forgiven.

Stefan had decorated the apartment for seduction with lamps burning woodsy oils. Scattered pillows and fur throws invited comfortable sex play. Pushed against a wall was a padded bench with stirrups and folded linens for a recreational massage. A pedestal carved like a phallus held a tray of cleansing towels, nipple clamps, teasers, ticklers, blindfolds, textured gloves, and vials of flavored oils.

Max approved. “Stefan, you raided a pleasure house. Nice.”

“From my private collection for special clients.”

“With extra fees attached?”

“Naturally.” Stefan showed Max the bedroom, flitting about indicating oils for heat, flavor, healing, lubricating. A bottle of Max’s favorite brandy was on the vanity… with extra towels, a jar of numbing cream, and packets of oral pain powders.

Max eased Quiggs down on a white fur coverlet and covered Quiggs’s crotch with one of the towels, pausing to admire the hairless balls. A bowl of scented water and a tall stack of towels were on an end table. How much seed did Stefan think Max and Quiggs would spend? Enough to fill a tub?

“Shall I undress your concubine for bed?” Stefan asked.

“No!” Max crouched in battle mode between Stefan and the bed.

Cutty grasped Stefan’s arm. “Come on, love. Leave them alone. Remember how impatient you were the night you claimed me.”

“Those filthy rhymes.” Stefan rolled his eyes.

“Your fault you rushed me out first.”

Stefan pinched his husband’s weathered cheek. “So angry you failed the military physical. How you pouted when you saw me.”

Max cleared his throat for their attention. “Get out before I toss my dinner. ”

Alone with his concubine, Max shed his formal clothes, flinging them without a care for where they landed. He put on a short silky black robe he found draped over the painted screen hiding the bathing area. Max was tall enough to peer over it at the tub and all its wonders: a bowl of bath salts, oils, more towels, and anal bulbs which melted to slick when inserted.

Until this morning, he’d worried how to introduce Quiggs to sex. He’d thought to approach the chore like an appointment in the sex clinic. But then he’d seen a young private and experienced a gut-deep yearning to explore tenderness with a lover. Just the once before he claimed his gawky, brilliant concubine.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” he murmured.

Quiggs softly snored as Max unlaced the platforms. He rubbed his hands up and down his concubine’s calves, skirting around the plasters. He admired the well-shaped lines, but Quiggs lacked definition. Max was accustomed to the ropey muscles of soldiers, along with their salty sweat, bitter musk, and rough whisker stubble.

He made quick work of stripping Quiggs naked, then sat on the edge of the bed to explore his property. His, all his. Untouched, unspoiled, untrained. Perversely, Max could hardly wait to dirty up the milky sweetness. He liked the smooth balls. Would Quiggs enjoy Max sucking and rolling them around his tongue? Max might manage sweet silky balls dabbed with flavored oil in his mouth, but he doubted he could wrap his lips around a cock without his sensory hairs firing shocks of outrage.

The red marks from the corset had faded. Quiggs’s belly hinted a cute jiggle might appear when he rode Max’s cock. His long lean neck led to a pair of wide shoulders that hadn’t filled out yet. His pectorals, however, showed natural definition. Military rations and daily workouts might tone him, but Quiggs would always be… Quiggs. Endearingly clumsy when his head was afloat with inventions. Stimulating when the fog cleared and he spoke his mind.

Max rolled a shell-pink nipple between thumb and forefinger and watched it pebble. Good. Responsive even as he slept. His fingers traced the youthful curve of Quiggs’s jaw where the last pad of baby fat rounded his cheeks. The next year would see his body fill out. A chiseled, mature face would catch up with his remarkable mind. Max could hardly wait to meet the man his concubine would become. Because Quiggs utterly fascinated him now.

The infamous braid smelled like leafy herbs and stretched below Quiggs’s knees. Stefan had woven five sections into a tight decorative braid knotted at intervals. Max slid the length through his thumb and forefinger. He imagined Quiggs with his loosed hair flying in the wind as he sailed his absurd hot air balloon. He imagined Quiggs beneath him with his hair spread across the pillow and his navy-rimmed green eyes rebuking Max for forcing him to continue growing it.

“Sorry, my baby cadet. I know I promised, but I can’t share you with another man yet.”

Max traced his concubine’s mouth. The deep rose hue belonged on a deb. Those lips looked warm, moist, soft. The pliant seam invited a tongue to open them wider, foreshadowing how Max would work his cock inside the tight pucker of Quiggs’s ass. He’d fantasized about kissing male lips for years, even though public opinion called the act a perversion unless with a wife. While Quiggs slept was an ideal moment to steal a kiss. Max closed his eyes and parted his lips as he lowered his head, anticipating a shot of fire straight to his cock.

The contact felt like pressing his lips on the cool dry skin of a corpse. Thoroughly underwhelmed, Max reared back and found he’d kissed the back of Quiggs’s hand. Defiant green eyes glittered above the hand.

“No kissing.” Quiggs guarded his mouth with one hand as he eased up the headboard. He was awake, sobering fast, and striving to get his bearings. When he realized he was naked, he startled and covered his sex with his free hand while he closed his knees self-consciously.

“Try it once.” Max slid a hand up and down Quiggs’s thigh, feeling an answering quiver .

“I said I don’t do kissing ever .” Quiggs squeaked the last word as Max’s fingers found the seam of his balls.

Max gripped him behind the knees and dragged him down the bed. He spread Quiggs’s thighs wide enough to accommodate his hips and knelt between them.

Quiggs immediately stilled. His eyes rounded. “Are we having sex now?”

“No. We are having a kiss now.”

“We’re men!” He pushed his hands against Max’s chest, using the full strength of his arms to hold him off.

Max lowered himself in slow increments. Using his full strength would snap Quiggs’s wrists like twigs. “Ah, Quiggs, been dreaming of kissing you all day.”

“I’m not a wife!” He gave up pushing and covered his mouth with both hands when Max was inches away.

“Don’t want a wife. Want you.”

Max casually pinned Quiggs’s hands above his head. His concubine clearly regarded a kiss as emasculating as castration. His frantic twisting and bucking threatened to open the glued stitches.

Max released Quiggs’s hands and sat back on his legs. “What if I offered you something worthwhile in exchange for a willing kiss?” The bucking stopped. He had Quiggs’s full attention.

“Like what?”

Max’s voice dropped an octave. “I’ll suck your cock if you’ll let me kiss you.”

Quiggs stared as if this were a trick. “Stefan said you don’t suck cock.”

“Sucking cock is as much a perversion to my nature as kissing is to yours.”

“Is kissing a feral thing? Because Beau always slobbered on me and whined when I pushed him away. I finally agreed to let him lick my neck if he’d braid my hair.”

“Kissing is how ferals seal bonds among members in the den. A feral refused a kiss by others is an outcast. Which was why he licked your neck every night. He needed to bond with you as much as he needed air to breathe.”

Quiggs screwed up his face. “Kissing a man’s mouth is as filthy as kissing a toilet.”

“Rather what I think of sucking off a man.”

“I’ll agree to a short kiss if it’s about manly bonding instead of sex. As long as there’s no tongue. Just a quick close-lipped pucker. But you have to suck me off first. And rinse your mouth out with some brandy before we touch lips.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “The deal is this, my picky concubine. I will go first. For however long it takes me to suck you off, you owe me the same amount of time kissing your mouth. No sweet little pucker pecks either. I’m talking both our mouths open, with my tongue sweeping inside and swapping spit while I grind my cock against yours.”

Quiggs’s breathing hitched as if he’d never thought of a kiss bringing other body parts into contact. “Um… I’d like the grinding part, but we kiss with our mouths closed.”

“Nonnegotiable. The only pucker I want from you is between your butt cheeks when my fingers work your hole until you’re loose and begging.”

Quiggs’s mouth fell slack. He licked his lips unconsciously. “I… oh, wow. Okay. I’ll kiss for however long it takes you to suck me off.”

“Agreed.”

Quiggs sent Max a shy smile. “I should pee first, then clean up.” He darted off the bed, giving Max a glimpse of a rounded butt before he disappeared behind the screen.

Max slumped on the edge of the bed. Had he actually agreed to wrap his lips around a cock?

Quiggs returned, modestly holding a towel over his cock. He hopped on the bed and propped himself on pillows against the headboard. “May I see you naked first?”

Color heated Max’s bronzed cheeks. He’d kept his robe on, his cock confined under the belt, wanting Quiggs sated and relaxed before introducing him to Max’s unusual appendage. “Not yet.”

Quiggs drew a deep breath, fingering the edge of the towel.

“Are you nervous?” Max asked. “Want me to stroke you?”

“You think I’m soft?” Quiggs pitched the towel aside and thrust up his hips. “You couldn’t hammer this boner flat. Get going.”

Laughter rumbled in Max’s chest, gradually fading as he realized the moment had arrived, and he hadn’t a clue how to get going. His sexual skills were limited to perfunctory hand jobs and uncomplicated fucking.

He examined Quiggs’s eager boner. If a cock could be called pretty, Quiggs’s cock was quite pretty. There were no heavy veins or crooks on the long shaft. The shaft was slender but adequate and supported a smooth, rosy ball sack the shade of the lips Max longed to kiss. He glided his fingertips over the shaft, then rolled the sack. The caress was nothing skilled or fancy, yet Quiggs’s chest rose and fell. His skin flushed. He gasped and squirmed, his head rolling side to side on the pillow. He gripped handfuls of the fur coverlet. “Max… please… oh, please… I’m begging you...”

Max battled his feral blood, uncertain if he could take a man’s cock—no matter how scrubbed and pretty it looked—in his mouth without gagging. His gorge rose as his stomach battled with his feral nature. His throat squeezed as images of the many cocks he’d fondled flashed across his mind. Ripe, thick, veiny cocks nestled in pubic hair matted with come and sweat. At least Quiggs was already hard for him. Coaxing a limp cock was as appealing as rolling a raw eel in his mouth. He gripped the base of the shaft, determined to do this. He flattened his tongue and opened his mouth to engulf the knob. He heard a tsk and glanced up to find Quiggs shaking his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Spit first. Get me slippery. Even I know that, Max.”

Max knew that too. He was rattled and not thinking clearly. Flushing, he sat back on his heels and worked up a mouthful of spit .

Quiggs drawled, “You look like you’re getting ready to spray a fire.”

Max snickered and swallowed his spit, his curse sending Quiggs into rolling laughter. Max waited for him to settle down. “Any other advice you’d like to tell me before I work up another wad?”

“When you’re giving head, look like you’re enjoying it, not biting the strap before a doctor sets a bone. Relax the muscles in your jaw. Breathe through your nose, especially a deep inhale before going down. Um… I like to tug my twins when I masturbate, so don’t forget to worship my ball sack while you suck. And remember to curl your lips over your teeth. Are there any feral surprises… like fangs?”

“No fangs… I… oh, goddammit!” Max swallowed his spit again when he spoke.

“Sheesh. Take a drink of water. Relax.”

“I’d rather drink brandy.”

“Alcohol tightens the throat. Every cadet is taught this. Or did you sleep through the lectures on basics?” He passed Max a vial of oil from the end table. “It’s flavored.”

Max sampled a drop. Tasted like berries. He drizzled a little on Quiggs’s hard cock, then worried the damn thing would lodge in his throat if Quiggs face-fucked him.

Quiggs bit his lip as if reading his mind. “You can’t swallow my cock and choke. Gather your courage, open up, and put my cockhead in your mouth. Perhaps you should quit thinking of it as a cock. Think of it as a… a doorknob.”

“Doorknobs don’t have keyholes leaking cum.”

Quiggs’s glistening doorknob bobbed as he guffawed. He obviously believed Max couldn’t do this and waited for the Defender of the Triangle to admit defeat.

Max inhaled deeply, gripped the slippery root using a thumb and forefinger, closed his eyes, and slurped down the cockhead with his lips properly curled over his teeth. There, he’d done it. He had a cock in his mouth without his own manly balls shriveling to dust .

Quiggs arched in response to the wet heat. His thighs trembled, and his head thrashed. His mouth opened in a silent scream.

Max tightened his grip to prevent Quiggs from banging the back of his throat. He tasted pre-cum. Not pissy as he’d dreaded. Not tasty either. He let it drool from a corner of his mouth, afraid he’d gag if it slid down his throat. He certainly had no intention of swallowing seed. In fact, he should tell Quiggs to warn him before he erupted.

Upon that sick thought, a “Fuck yes!” rang out. Hot, salty spurts filled Max’s mouth as Quiggs bucked out his release. Max pulled off with a wet pop. Thick ropes of cum slid down his chin along with oily spit. A spatter clung to the back of his throat. Although tempted to hawk it up like curdled milk, he forced himself to swallow. He swallowed… swallowed… swallowed… before his throat relented, and the spatter slid down.

Max scrambled off the bed for the bottle of brandy on the vanity. He swished around a generous swallow, gargled it, and sent it down the hatch to burn off the cum, as if it would grow mold if it lingered in his stomach.

It probably ranked as one of the five worst blow jobs in the history of the Triangle. But Max had successfully completed his side of the bargain. Their agreement was for a kiss as long as the blow job had lasted. Which was, when he counted up, ten seconds worth instead of the eternity it had seemed at the time. Max felt fucking cheated. After he’d come at the banquet, Quiggs should have held it back for two minutes at the very least.

Max scrubbed his face with a towel. Stefan hadn’t overestimated the number of towels needed. He walked back to the bed and gazed down at Quiggs’s blissful face, eyes rolled back, his belly still jiggly from the aftermath. A flush splotched his neck and chest.

“My turn.” Max snapped the towel across Quiggs’s belly to get his attention. “Thanks for the warning, by the way.”

“Sorry.” Quiggs clearly wasn’t as he beamed up at Max and wiped off his softened cock with the towel handed him. “I owe you one kiss… to the count of twelve. ”

“No way that’s right!”

“I know. I added a bonus two seconds for not warning you.” Quiggs snickered when Max glared down at him. “What can I say? I’m twenty, and it was my first blow job.”

“You cheated me!”

“You put my cock in your mouth. No tongue action, no cheek action, no humming, no sucking. Therefore, it barely qualifies as a blow job.” Quiggs yawned and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Max.”

“Are you refusing me?”

Quiggs mumbled, “Can’t help it. Always sleepy after I come.”

Max crawled up over him and lightly slapped his cheeks. “Don’t fall asleep on me!” His voice held desperation. “You owe me, Quiggs. Pay up. It’s my turn, dammit.”

Quiggs closed his eyes, his mouth relaxing into a goofy grin. He looked as if his bones were mush, and his brilliant brain had snuffed out, leaving beautiful plumes of incense.

Max’s body howled with frustration.

His claws, however, were quiet.