CHAPTER FIVE
Atticus was processing the last couple of hours, coming to terms with this new Wyatt this forward, demanding, possessive Wyatt and deciding that he liked him very much. He held him like he was the most important thing in his life, and he was making Atticus believe it.
The violent rage earlier was real, and it tore away any doubt he’d harbored regarding Wyatt’s intentions.
He was worried he wasn’t good enough, not that Atticus was an abomination and an embarrassment.
They had a lot to work through still, but misunderstandings were slowly being dealt with as their feelings became more open.
"I didn't recognize you at first." Atticus began thoughtfully while still being held on Wyatt's lap and pressed to his chest. It was the most comfortable position he'd enjoyed in ages, and he was in no rush to move.
"Necromancers are not promised Fated, true matches, so I was not expecting anything of this magnitude.
I felt something for you from the very beginning, but I thought it was simply appreciation because you are a very handsome man, Wyatt.
" He chuckled softly, and Wyatt responded by placing a sweet kiss on his forehead.
"I understood what it really was the minute you were injured in the cemetery this evening and the scent of your blood hit the air." He paused and drew closer into Wyatt's embrace; he just could not deny himself the touch and comfort of this man.
"You thought that I planned to deny our bond?" Wyatt asked, his tone wounded.
"Yes, it made sense since you clearly must have known, and yet you had not made any indication of there being a connection between us. I didn't hold it against you; I understand that I and those like me are not loved by all." Atticus straightened a little, but Wyatt prevented him from pulling away.
"We carry a certain level of darkness within us that is necessary for who we are and what we do. The Dead Talkers, as we are all referred to, are mostly feared or, at the very least, distrusted, so your lack of directness and sincerity was not a surprise.” That was a long explanation for a simple question, but Atticus was already tired of the misunderstandings between them, and he wanted there to be no more.
"I'm sorry," Wyatt said carefully, his fingers gripping Atticus' arm and hip, pulling him closer as if he feared he might try to run away.
He wasn't going to run. Whatever it was between them, Atticus was interested in exploring it, and having observed the work of Fate with other beings, he was confident that he and Wyatt were meant to be.
The acknowledgment sent a warm rush through him, and a smile touched his lips. He hadn't felt hopeful or excited in nearly a century, and he never felt the way that this vampire guard was making him feel.
"I was cowardly and didn't know what to say or how to say it, so I said nothing, hoping that an answer would somehow present itself," Wyatt answered.
"The answer presented itself in a murder attempt," Atticus said to lighten the mood for Wyatt, and he responded immediately. “We were both forced to admit the truth.
“Don’t joke about that.” He said, and his words were tight and his grip tighter. “I could have lost you.” He threaded his fingers through Atticus’ long curls and pressed Atticus’ head against his chest and laid his cheek on the top of his head. Distress was eating him up.
"You thought I had done it. You thought I had tried to kill you. Did I share so little, given so little, that you believed I wanted you dead? The realization ripped me open, then tore at my heart. I'd failed my coven, and then I failed my beloved."
Atticus felt his despair. Wyatt's breathing was becoming a struggle, and his mind was scattering. He was taking this as a testament to his character and not simply as an unfortunate event.
Atticus turned to look up at him and raised his hand to cup his cheek and gently rub his thumb along his jaw as he spoke.
"I see you, Wyatt. I know who you are now.
We had a rough start, but that was because neither of us was willing to speak first, and that is something we are seriously going to need to work on.
" Carefully and without overthinking it, Atticus stretched up and placed a kiss on Wyatt's lips.
It was brief but the most powerful kiss of his life.
When he slowly pulled away, Wyatt chased it for a second and then wrapped his arms tighter and buried his face in Atticus' long hair.
"I love the feel and the smell of your hair; it is so beautiful.
Everything about you is beautiful." Wyatt rambled for a bit and then settled and took several deep breaths, breathing in Atticus' scent.
"I never cared that you were a necromancer.
I understand the function and the need, and I know that in any job or career there are those who twist things and use them for personal gain and glory or for simply twisted goals.
Your title never concerned me, intimidated me, or breached any boundaries that I hold.
" He paused and then added. "I just wanted you to know that. "
"Thank you, Wyatt." He looked up at him, and Wyatt was looking down, and their eyes met and locked; the emotion that passed between them was heavy and wonderful. Everything that came next came naturally and turned this night into an experience of pure wonder.
Wyatt took Atticus’ lips in a kiss that devastated and shattered any thoughts of this not being real and not being forever. Their connection was taking hold, and their needs were aligning. The Fated bond was currently on fire.
The kiss went deeper as Wyatt explored, thrusting his tongue inside Atticus' welcoming mouth. His eagerness was making Atticus respond in kind; he pulled at Wyatt, needing a better grip and needing him closer, so close that their bodies melded together.
Wyatt shifted his body, easing to gradually cover Atticus, pressing him into the soft mattress.
Atticus felt his body press him into the softness and let out a sigh of acceptance, a very greedy acceptance.
The kiss held throughout, neither letting go.
Wyatt did not pause or slow down; his lips continued to devour Atticus, hungry and driven.
Atticus' shirt was completely open now, and Wyatt's hands skimmed his chest and abdomen, then trailed kisses down Atticus' throat and across his chest. The sensations exploding through him were blinding both physically and emotionally.
Atticus lay back, his breath coming in rapid pants. The feelings were tied to Wyatt's lips, his touch, and the way his heated gaze traveled Atticus' body, and it turned Atticus into a quivering, reckless mess. But it also made him come alive in a way he had never felt and had never thought to own.
Wyatt had systematically removed most of Atticus' clothing; all that remained was his snug, soft boxer briefs.
Normally, being disrobed in front of another would have bothered him, but he felt nothing but excitement when the person seeing him was Wyatt, the guard he'd known for less than a day but recognized in his heart.
Atticus began pulling at Wyatt's clothing, needing him bare, and Wyatt quickly accommodated by stripping down completely.
Wyatt did not wear underwear of any kind, and Atticus was surprised to discover just how much that fact turned him on.
Naked, Wyatt was a marvelous sight to behold, and Atticus was reduced to staring for several minutes.
Wyatt gently moved Atticus to lie central on the bed, and with a flick of his wrist, Atticus was no longer wearing his briefs.
"You are a beautiful man, Atticus." Wyatt groaned and continued his oral fixation on Atticus' body.
The man's kisses were powerful and mind-bending.
Atticus lay back and enjoyed, and his body responded to every touch, every breath fanned across his flesh.
"I need to bond with you tonight. Please tell me you want it too.
" Wyatt said and took Atticus' lips in another scorching embrace, preventing him from answering immediately.
Wyatt's hand was stroking him and moving back to press his fingers against Atticus' hole.
He had not engaged with anyone in a while, but his body came to life immediately at his touch and his promise.
"I want it too, Wyatt," Atticus told him as soon as his lips had begun a descent to his chest and then his abdomen.
Wyatt was a voracious lover and everything Atticus had hoped for.
His fingers breached him and began a steady thrust, going deeper and stretching with each thrust; the friction was delicious.
He'd used a lubricant of sorts, and the slide in and out of his fingers, so large and forceful, was driving him insane. It was amazing.
He'd forgotten how good sex was, and he was certain that it had never been this good.
Sex with your beloved was beyond imagination; every nerve ending in his body was firing and sending salacious signals of pleasure throughout his system.
Wyatt took him into his mouth first; it was a gentle kiss on the sensitive head, and then he was encased in a warm, moist suction that was sharpening those nerve endings to a fine edge and making his eyes roll back in his head.
"You are very good at this, Wyatt. I am so happy." He didn't have the right words, but he needed to let him know this was fantastic in whatever words he could manage. He felt the soft chuckle vibrate against his hard and leaking cock as it slid in and out of Wyatt's talented mouth.