Chapter Twenty-one – Jack #2
I had my fill of the light in him, breathing him, touching him, tasting, rubbing my face against him like a cat, as my hands moved where they wanted.
He stood still under this onslaught of attention, and then his hands reached back to touch pieces of me.
I swatted them away, reaching forward around his waist to where his cock waited—and his hands reached back again.
“I meant it,” I said, catching both of his wrists and yanking down.
He melted a little under my presumed anger—I heard his breath catch, and so I didn’t let him go.
I nuzzled the nape of his neck, and his shoulder, as I brought his hands up behind him.
“I get the feeling you don’t always like being in control, Zach. ”
He swallowed audibly and then shook his head. “I don’t.”
“Good. Stay right there,” I said, and then leaned down to pick up my towel.
It was nothing to tear off a strip of it, and then use it to tie his arms together behind himself, each of his hands holding the opposite elbow.
Turning him helpless in front of me, I held his arms back with one hand, as I reached around him to stroke his cock; rocking my hand back and forth, swirling his precum against his tip with my thumb as he moaned.
“Did I say you could moan?” I said. He quieted, and I laughed.
“I’m kidding. I’m not a heartless bastard.
Just a bastard is all,” I went on, emphasizing my statements with my strokes.
He made a guttural sound, but didn’t open his mouth.
“I want to use you in so many ways,” I said, and returned one of my hands to my still condomed cock, to stroke it against him. “Bend over for me.”
I held tight to the towel I’d wrapped his arms in as he did so, teetering precariously over my couch, reliant on my hold to balance him. I stroked my free hand down his back, to his ass, and spit where I meant to take him, and he shuddered in delight as I lined my cock up and slowly pushed in.
It didn’t matter how many men someone’d been with—your first time with someone else, it was always polite to knock on the door before barging in. I controlled myself same as I controlled him, pushing him forward even as he wanted to sag back.
“Patience,” I said, feeling him envelop me, piece by piece. His hips jerked and spasmed, trying to thrust if I wasn’t going to, begging for friction. “Yeah?” I asked, rocking his body back and forth on me, as he bent lower to give me more of himself, trusting me not to drop him.
“Yeah,” he breathed, as I closed the distance between us and settled deep.
We found a rhythm—or rather, I did, using his arms like a handle, bringing him onto me again and again as I leaned back and gloried in the sensation.
Everything about him felt good to me, his mouth, his skin, his ass—I used a free hand to grab one glorious ass cheek and pull it wide so I could see the hot place where we met and—
“Can you,” he began, his voice timid, “spank me?”
The thought made me harder. I was a creature of violent desires, who had very little chance to use them normally. I released his ass cheek, brought my arm back and swung down—stopping a centimeter over his soft skin. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please,” he begged.
I brushed my hand over the place I was going to aim for, raised it up, and then smacked it down. It was halfway between a slap and a spank and he rose up on his toes before sinking back on me, harder.
“Again?” I asked, and he nodded. This time I used the other hand, with a little more force, and watched his supple flesh ripple. Fangs budded, unbidden. “What’s your safeword, Zach?” I breathed.
“Dangerous,” he said.
“Use it if you need to,” I commanded—and I kept going.
I knew the terrible things I was capable of and so I didn’t completely untether my hunger.
But I let it come out to play, to feel the way he moved after I smacked him, listening to the way he gasped in pain and then grunted when my cock pounded back into him and it felt good, loving the way my handprints started to leave marks—it was all making me so hard, each time I pulled out I couldn’t wait to get back into him—and then my fangs descended.
I stopped, mid-swing, pulling him back to me, willing my fangs back up into my palate.
“What happened?” he asked, oblivious to my struggle.
“Nothing,” I said, lowering my hand. He moved provocatively, on purpose.
“I know you want it,” he said.
“I do,” I said, backing up. “But I’m a man in control of what he wants.” I took a step back, and then another, until I was all the way out, and standing behind him. My hands went for the towel and untied him quickly.
He stumbled forward without meaning to, catching himself on the couch. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking back at me.
“That shit makes me hard as hell, but I want to see you when I come.” I knew it was true the second I’d said it.
The hunger didn’t care who it fucked—but I did.
“Come here.” I sat down on the couch and grabbed him as I lay down, pulling him to straddle me with a minimum of fuss.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked as I reached between his legs to line my cock up with him again.
“Not at all.”
“Then sit down.” I arced my hips up and aimed my cock just right to fill his ass again. We both paused at the top of the arc to feel the sensations, me filling, him being full. “That’s good,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said with a groan.
I moved subtly, feeling him in this new way, as he moved his own hips up and down.
I had a much better view of him here, his lean body over mine, his hands on my shoulders as he both braced himself and rocked, and between us both, his balls and warm and heavy cock.
I reached for it without thinking, and felt him stiffen as I took it in hand.
His jaw dropped as I thrust up high with my hips—and started to stroke him.
“That’s not fair,” he protested.
“What’s not?” I ran my hand up and down his shaft, starting to fuck his ass faster. He reacted by spreading his thighs wider apart to let me take him.
“You—you’ve got me—coming and going,” he panted, in between my thrusts. The way he was moving over me, I could feel his ass squeezing as he made my cock line up inside himself to hit his spot.
“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked, turned on by the way I was turning him on, stroking his cock. I let my other hand take over, and then spit into my first and returned it, lubricated.
He made a whining sound, as if it was causing him pain to hold out on me—and now my hips were bucking him high and his hands were curled into my shoulders and his cock was hard as I stroked it faster.
“I’m going to make you cum all over me, sunshine,” I warned him—just before he did.
He shouted, incoherent, and then his body thrashed, his ass grabbing onto my cock as silky white cum pumped out of him, spattering against my chest. And just like I’d thought, tasting his life was like biting into a perfect orange slice, cold, tangy, and sweet.
“Oh my God,” he breathed, the first second he could do so, sagging over to lean against the couch. I panted beneath him, still sopping his orgasm up. “You’re hard,” he said in dismay.
I blinked back to life. “It’s all right.”
“No. I can’t owe you again. I don’t even know your name.”
I reached a lazy hand over to press to his cheek. “It’s Jack. And it’s—"
The doorbell rang, cutting off whatever else I was going to say.
Both Zach and I were still, like if we didn’t move whomever was outside my apartment would go away—but they rang twice again in quick succession.
And after everything that’d happened last night—I tapped Zach’s ass to get him to get up and off of me and stood, picking up my towel to wrap around my waist again, now missing the bottom few inches, as I walked to look through my peephole.
Angela and Paco. Shit.
“Jack?” Angela asked, with a quaver.
“Coming!” I shouted, as Zach ran around my living room floor, trying to find his uniform, while I pulled the jeans I’d had on yesterday back on.
I heard Paco step forward and hit the doorbell again, just to bother me.
“Jesus,” I said, opening up the door. Never had two more disparate groups of people met—I stood shirtless in the doorway, hopefully blocking the view of the young blonde man assembling himself behind me, while Angela’s face was puffy from crying and her eyes were red, and Paco—Paco took things in and just glowered. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Hey—are you all right?” I asked Angela. Of course she wasn’t—
I saw her eyes flicker behind me and surely she could smell the sex wafting out—Paco too. “I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, returning her attention to me, both her tone and expression flat. “You saved Rabbit’s life last night, at great risk to your own, and I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And—Dark Ink is closed for now, okay? Until further notice. I won’t take it personally if you find another job.”
“What?” I stepped forward, mostly closing the door behind me.
“It’s just not safe there anymore.”
I knew just enough about the Pack to press her—but it wasn’t like she’d confess to being a werewolf in front of Paco—and I couldn’t come clean about being a vampire with Zachary around, he’d already seen too much.
“Is there some time we can talk? Alone?” I asked.
She shook her head lightly. “You’re not going to be able to change my mind, Jack.”
“It’s not like that. I just want to talk to you. Later tonight, if at all possible.” I had an inkling of a plan—if she’d admit to me who she was, I might be able to help her.
“Tonight?” Everything about her seemed distracted.
“Please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
She put a hand to her stomach like it hurt her. “Sure, yeah. Mark’s place?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll text you where,” Paco said, gently taking her shoulders and steering her away. He cast a meaningful look over his shoulder at me, and I knew I had a lot to answer for.