Chapter 11 #3
When Philippe was fully seated, Rafe could clearly feel the rub of jeans and the rough bite of the metal zipper teeth against his flesh.
Philippe hadn’t finished getting undressed before starting to fuck him.
He wanted to say something about the other vampire’s refusal to be completely naked with him.
It wasn’t about an uncontrollable eagerness to fuck Rafe.
He’d taken incredible care of stretching him.
Philippe could have finished undressing.
Mentally he cursed himself. He’d let Philippe’s action convince him that he was really cared for, that he was precious, important. He let himself believe that he was Philippe’s equal, but the clothing kept them apart, separated. Philippe was still completely in control.
“You’re still dressed,” Rafe said. He’d wanted it to come out as a snarl, but there was no missing the sound of betrayal in his words.
“Trust me, mon amour. Trust me,” Philippe whispered.
Rafe clenched his eyes closed and dropped his forehead to the pillow in front of him.
He wanted to curse himself a fool, but Philippe started to move.
Each thrust was strong and slow, pushing him even deeper into his body.
Against his will, Rafe moaned, loving the feel of every inch of that cock stretching him.
He was so fucking full, it was amazing. Philippe’s strong arms wrapped around him, one crossed diagonally over his chest while the other wrapped around his waist so that he could clasp Rafe’s dick.
Every thrust pushed him into that lube-covered grip, driving him closer to another orgasm.
Blocking out all thought, Rafe concentrated on the pleasure, the slick slide of Philippe’s sweat-covered skin along his back.
Broken words that Rafe couldn’t quite make out came from Philippe.
Some of them sounded as if they were French, but he wasn’t sure.
Couldn’t even try to make it out over the pounding of his heart in his ears.
“Please, Philippe. Harder. Fuck me harder,” he begged past the lump of self-loathing that had grown in his throat.
This was what he’d wanted. It was all that he offered Philippe.
His body. All he could give anyone. If pleasure was all he could have, then he would revel in it.
He couldn’t let it matter that Philippe was still holding himself apart, that he didn’t trust Rafe while he continually prodded Rafe for his trust.
Philippe shifted just enough that his next thrusts hammered into Rafe’s prostate. The world whited out in intense pleasure, and he screamed as his orgasm tore through him. Muscles clenched and his cum shot out, covering Philippe’s hand as he continued to stroke Rafe’s dick.
A second shout echoed through the room, and Rafe could feel Philippe pumping himself into Rafe. His arm tightened across Rafe’s chest and somehow through it all, Rafe could feel Philippe’s heart pounding against him in a desperate bid to break free.
Seconds later, they collapsed in a sweaty and panting heap in the twisted blankets.
Slowly they pulled apart and shifted so that they were both lying on their sides, facing each other.
Rafe blinked and some of the earlier bitterness faded to see the carefree, happy look on Philippe’s beautiful face.
The vampire always looked young, but his old age and countless worries gave an added weight to his eyes.
But for once, it was all missing. He looked young and free as he stared back at Rafe with such open joy.
“That did not go quite how I imagined,” Philippe admitted a bit breathlessly. Sweat glistened on his face and dampened his hair, leaving strands sticking to his temples. Rafe couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone looking so perfect in his bed.
“What was missing?”
Philippe gave a playful roll of his eyes. “I wanted to linger over you in the bed, torment you. I wanted to make your body vibrate with pleasure before we actually fucked.” His expression turned rueful and embarrassed. “But when I saw you stretched out against the red sheets, I couldn’t wait.”
“Is that why you’re still wearing your pants?”
The joy bled out of Philippe’s face frighteningly fast. He held on to his smile, but the weight had returned to his eyes.
Rafe couldn’t decide whether he regretted his words or not.
But to his credit, Philippe didn’t take the easy out that Rafe was offering.
He didn’t lie. There was another reason, and now Rafe was desperate to know the truth.
Did he really see Rafe as something beneath him? Was he merely a joke? A plaything? A distraction to help him forget about all the heavy trials of being a clan leader?
Rafe smiled, but he would feel that it was a rough, brittle thing.
He tapped into the little ball of power that seemed to rest just behind his heart.
He channeled it into his voice, making his words almost hypnotic.
“Strip for me, Philippe. I want to feel all of you against me. Be with me. Trust me with all of you.”
Philippe’s eyes flew open wide and he made a choked noise. His voice came out soft and distant. “I feel it.”
He damn well should. Rafe was using a hell of a lot more power on Philippe than he normally used, but the vampire was older, stronger. A subtle touch would not work on him.
“Let me see and touch all of you,” Rafe pressed.
Philippe trembled slightly but didn’t otherwise move. “I…oh God, this…it’s-it’s insidious. It’s like I feel this is hurting you if I don’t obey.” His voice was choked with pain and sadness. Unshed tears made his eyes glisten. “I don’t want to hurt you. Rafe…”
Rafe had never heard his power described this way. Some had simply said they had a feeling of wanting to make him happy, but this was different for Philippe. He was afraid of hurting Rafe, but Philippe was the only one in danger of coming to harm if he continued to fight the command.
“Please, don’t want to hurt you,” Philippe whispered, his voice trembling.
Rafe immediately cut off his gift, tucking it away in his chest again. Philippe sucked in a choking breath, his eyes closed, but that only sent a pair of tears streaking down his pale cheeks.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” Philippe admitted. He sounded as if he was forcing himself to sound light and joking.
“I shouldn’t have—” he started to say, but Philippe interrupted him.
“No, I asked you to. Wanted you to show me.”
“But I shouldn’t—”
“I need to get going.”
Philippe shocked Rafe speechless by rolling off the mattress and hurrying to where his clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. Rafe watched him for a second as he pulled on his T-shirt and was struggling with his sweater before he started to move as well.
“Don’t. Please. Not yet,” Rafe managed while his mind struggled to catch up to what was happening.
Fear, anger, confusion, and panic swamped him, leaving him shaking.
He felt betrayed that Philippe had held something back, and like a petulant child he’d tried to force him to give over what he hadn’t wanted to.
He’d ruined it. Ruined this precious time they’d shared. Philippe couldn’t leave like this.
“No, really. I need to be going. I need to check on my clan. See if anyone has heard anything. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long,” Philippe said, shoving his feet into his shoes as he closed up his pants again.
“Don’t leave like this, Philippe. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have used my powers.”
“I really must go.” Philippe paused and flashed him a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was some emotion Rafe couldn’t quite name. Sadness. Fear. Did Philippe suddenly fear him? Just that thought sent a dagger of pain ripping through his heart.
Philippe turned and left the bedroom, undoubtedly heading to the elevator.
Rafe swore under his breath as he grabbed a long gray silk robe and wrapped it around his sweat-and-cum-covered body.
His bare feet slapped across the floor as he jogged to catch up to Philippe as he reached out to hit the call button.
“I’m sorry, Philippe. I never meant to hurt you,” Rafe called out.
Philippe turned as the double doors slid open. He smiled and this one felt a little more real. “I know. You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do. I am sorry.”
Philippe reached up and touched his cheek and Rafe hated how unsteady he felt. “I forgive you, mon amour.”
“Don’t go.”
“I must.” He pulled his hand away as he stepped into the waiting elevator car. “Trust me, and remember that not all of us are as brave as you.”
The doors slid shut before Rafe could think of any kind of response, carrying Philippe away from him.
Rafe took an unsteady step from the elevator, letting his back hit the wall.
His legs gave out and he found himself sitting on the hallway floor, his robe pooled around him.
His heart and mind battled over Philippe’s strange parting words and the feeling that he’d intentionally destroyed something very beautiful between them.
He ached. How could he have hurt Philippe? It wasn’t enough that Philippe had forgiven him. He had to do more, say more, to forever erase that pain he’d put in Philippe’s eyes. He said he trusted Philippe, but he still tried to force him to do something he didn’t want. He’d screwed up so royally.
And how was Philippe not brave? He protected his clan. He walked into another vampire’s territory, ready to do whatever it took to find his missing clan member. Of course he was brave.
What was Rafe supposed to do now? Would Philippe even speak to him again? Just the thought of never seeing Philippe again, never holding him again, threatened to knock the air out of his lungs.
He had to fix this. He had to convince Philippe that he truly did trust him and that he was worthy of Philippe’s trust. But for now, he had to wait. He’d already tried to force Philippe once. He had to wait and trust that Philippe would return to him.