Chapter 18
Eighteen
Ru
That’s not what I expected.
Not the sweet, get-to-know-you kind of secret I’d anticipated. And Sully’s face as he speaks—determined, angry, vengeful—is one I hardly recognize. My chest tightens in a familiar way, lungs squeezed, throat tight.
Drawing breath grows difficult.
Fuck. I tell myself not to panic. It’ll only make things worse. Slow breath in. Slow breath out. Don’t let it escalate.
“They need to be stopped,” he says, voice hard.
I don’t disagree, but… “Sully, no. That’s way too dangerous.”
He sighs. “I’m not asking your permission, Ru.”
I struggle to sit up. I can’t breathe laying down like this. The wheezing each time I draw air makes me nervous. Now is a terrible time for an asthma attack.
Fuck. There is never a good time for a damned asthma attack.
Sully sits up too, all his former calm and happiness draining away. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid of how you’d react.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.” I close my eyes, palm to my chest, and focus on staying calm.
His hand lands on my thigh. “Wait. Are you okay?”
Fuck. I’m not. And I hate to admit it. “I need my inhaler. Will you go get it? Bedside drawer.”
He’s up and on his way even as he’s asking, “What’s it look like?”
“It’s blue.” That should be enough for him to find it. There’s nothing else in that drawer besides… oh, shit. He’s gonna see my lube. At least it’s not blue. And he probably doesn’t know what it is. Hopefully.
He returns, inhaler in hand.
I take it. Relief hits just by having it at the ready. I breathe in a dose of albuterol. The bitter mist hits the back of my throat in a cold rush. I wait. So does Sully. Slowly, my chest loosens, like a fist unclenching, air sliding in deep and easy again.
The wheeze fades. The pressure eases. Breathing stops being something I have to supervise and goes back to being something my body does on its own.
I cast my gaze up to Sully, who stands awkwardly, expression beyond concerned and veering into panicked territory.
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
“I upset you.”
“Not your fault.”
“What happened?”
“I have asthma. It’s no big deal.” I pat the space next to me. “Come on, sit back down.”
He sits. “You couldn’t breathe. That is the definition of a big deal.”
“I could, it just got hard for a minute. Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
“That’s a hell of a thing to be used to,” he mumbles.
I shrug. “I had childhood asthma. Was just lucky enough to be one of the thirty percent to carry it into adulthood. It’s not as bad now though.”
“Seemed bad to me,” he says quietly, hands folded in his lap.
Our cozy, comfortable evening has turned stilted. He’s nervous. I’m embarrassed. We’re both still naked, and now things are weird.
I wish I was dressed, but if I start dressing, Sully might get the wrong idea. I have no regrets about what we did. And I’m not mad. Not upset. Just deeply worried. The idea of him taking on II Tech scares the shit out of me.
I grab a blanket and cuddle us both in it, then I take his hand. “II Tech is dangerous. They could recapture you. You could be hurt.”
“I’ve escaped once. I can do it again. These past few weeks have been a dream, but I can take pain. What was it you said? Don’t worry, I’m used to it?”
Used to torture. Testing. Neglect. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
He continues, “Whatever happens, it’ll be worth it if I can destroy them and free the others. We can’t let them continue.” He studies me, and must not like what he sees. “At least, I can’t let them continue.”
Oh, the guilt. The shame. I was a part of the problem, hence I should be part of the solution. But I can’t help it. I want to run. “We could leave.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been making a plan to get us out. I was planning to go even before you escaped, and once you were with me, I knew we’d both need to disappear. And that my time had run out. I was thinking Europe, but now I’m thinking Canada. We could—”
“You want to leave II Tech?”
“Yes. To go somewhere safe. And take you with me. Where they can’t find us.”
He blinks and stares. I bite my tongue. I want to say more. To argue for my way. For our safety. But he’s clearly processing.
And we’re both still naked.
I’d imagined how this conversation would go, and never once were we naked while having it.
He looks down. “I can’t just leave.”
We have to. I press my lips shut. Arguing won’t help. “Okay. I get that.” At least, I’m trying to.
“I mean, I do want to go with you. Very much. But not yet. Not until I’m done.”
And what if they kill you first?
After several assurances my invitation is genuine, Sully follows me to my room to sleep in my bed. I’ve never had a partner so cuddly. He curls around me and clings like ivy. I bask in his undeserved affection.
We went to bed without resolving our… I hesitate to say argument. But “difference of opinion” doesn’t seem right either. Not for a situation when life and death hang in the balance.
I can’t let him run back to II Tech. It’s too dangerous. Too much could go wrong. And even if I wanted to, how much help could I possibly be?
I’m not brave like he is. I’m no fighter. If it comes down to running, I can’t even do that without risking an asthma attack.
I’m useless.
I fret myself to sleep and wake up some hours later in much the same state.
Sully’s warmth is comforting. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. His heartbeat against my ribcage. Damp puddle of drool on my chest. I hold in a laugh because I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t wait to tease him about drooling. He likes to be teased.
In the other room, Socks meows her displeasure at being stuck behind a closed door. Sully stirs, every little movement a pleasant reminder of all the places where we touch. His thigh draped over mine. His fingers on my bicep. The length of his front against my side.
“Good morning.” My breath ruffles his hair.
He mumbles something back and crowds in even closer, as though he’d crawl inside my skin if he could.
Poor thing. How he loves to be touched after a lifetime of denial.
I’d make up for it if I could. All those years of deprivation.
I’m trying now, running my hands down the curve of his back, hugging him close, kissing the top of his head.
He stretches, and I feel his cock, half hard already, press against my thigh.
Socks chooses this moment to whine a pitiful chain of meows, letting her starvation be known.
Sully chuckles. “Fuck. I need to get up and feed them. Twenty-Four will need blood, and so do I. But I’ll be quick. You.” He pokes my chest. “Stay here. Don’t move. Promise.”
“Can I go pee?”
“Okay, fine, but then right back here.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
A glimmer flashes through green eyes. “Ooh, I like that.” He leaves without saying more.
I rise, stretch and take care of business. For good measure, I brush my teeth and hair, splash some water on my face, and give myself a quick clean with a wash cloth.
I beat him back to bed, but only barely.
Sully practically jogs through the bedroom door and shuts it behind him. “That should keep them quiet long enough for what I have in mind.”
On my back, naked under the bedsheets, anticipation coils pleasantly through me. “And what do you have in mind, exactly…sir?”
His grin is so sharp it could cut diamonds. “You’re a fast learner, Ru.”
God, he’s pretty, slinking his way to my bed, all sinuous hips, narrow waist, and flared shoulders—not to mention his beautiful hard cock, standing at attention.
And that auburn mane of hair, soft and lovely.
I can’t wait to bury my hands in it. Can’t believe my luck. Can’t believe that he wants me.
Gracefully, like a predator stalking his prey, he climbs onto the bed, crawls over me, and settles astride my hips, only the sheet between us. He lines our cocks up and grinds them together.
I grab his thighs and moan. “Fuck, yes.”
His smile reveals fangs. He might not even realize. He’d try to hide them if he did. But I’m not afraid of them anymore. They suit him. And they make me… curious.
He shuffles and drags away the sheet between us, then settles back down, skin to skin. He takes both our cocks in one elegant hand and experiments with a gentle stroke.
His jaws falls open. “I’d planned on going slow. Maybe drawing this out, but I don’t think I can.” He leans over me, reaching for the bedside drawer and grabs the lube.
That answers that question. Sully knows what lube is.
And I’m about to have an extremely nice morning.
“Kiss me,” I say as his slick hands slide around our cocks.
He leans in. Our mouths meet. One of us moans.
I take his hips in my hands and urge him to move, to thrust against me, to use my body to chase his pleasure. And he does.
I’m trapped under his weight and loving every second. Love the way he moves. The little sounds he makes, whimpering into my mouth as pressure builds.
“Fuck, Ru, you feel so good,” he huffs against my ear. His hand speeds up. My cock twitches in his grip.
“Let me.” I slip my hand between us and wrap my fingers over his. Together we find a rhythm that works for both of us.
He shudders and comes, his body tensing over mine.
I try to stop, or at least slow down, he must be sensitive now, but he shakes his head and says, “Now you.”
It’s so hot, my body obeys without question, spurting in our hands as pleasure seizes my every nerve ending.
Sully collapses on top of me, a weighty furnace. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. My brave, curious, funny, clever Sully.
He mouths at my neck, and without thinking, I tilt my head to make room.
Sharp teeth scrape along my tender skin.
We both freeze.
“Shit. Sorry.” He draws back. “I wasn’t going to bite you. I would never. Not without permission.”
“I know,” I say, but I’m tense now. And not because I don’t want it.
Because I do.