Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Kit
Kit hadn’t planned for those words to slip out of his mouth. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, though. No, he’d considered how it would make him feel, and if it was what he wanted. He’d obsessed over the possibility of opening himself up like that after decades of going untouched.
His mouth simply ran faster than his brain, and doubly so when he’d just had his fill of Quin’s blood.
Quin looked silently up at him from where he lay underneath him on the bed, his eyebrows almost at his hairline.
“Well?” Kit prompted.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m super on the fence about it.
That’s why I said it, Daddy.” Kit poked one of Quin’s nipples.
“Of course I’m sure.” That was a tiny lie, as he hadn’t been sure when he’d said it, but now that the words were out there, he didn’t want to take them back.
He was ready, and he was willing, and he was eager for it.
He wanted to make that choice for himself.
And the more he thought about it, the more his body reacted, the blood he’d taken from Quin heating inside of him and rushing to his cock.
“Have you…” Quin trailed off, gaze flicking away from Kit before settling back on him.
“Have I what?”
“Done it before?” Quin’s voice came out in a whisper.
Kit had been raring to go. But he flopped off Quin and down onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He wished Quin hadn’t asked.
“Yes.”
It was only one quiet word, but it hung in the air as loud as a shouted expletive; so tangible that Kit could have reached out and touched it, prodded at the numb pain of the admission.
Memories reared their ugly heads. He dug his claws into his palms, focusing instead on the sharp spikes of physical pain.
“Kit, baby.” Quin took hold of Kit’s hands, uncurling them from the fists he’d formed. On each palm, four perfect half-moon cuts shone with blood.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Kit said.
“I don’t like seeing it.”
“It’s nothing.”
Quin brought one of Kit’s palms to his mouth. “May I?” he asked.
Kit nodded, and Quin flicked his tongue out and caught the blood as it dripped from the tiny wounds. Kit all but melted at the sensation.
“You’re delicious, baby boy,” Quin said, then licked a thick stripe over Kit’s palm.
Few over the years had tasted Kit’s blood. Lawrence, of course. Territory leaders, most of whom Kit barely remembered the names of. Most recently, Conroy, when Kit had decided to stay on the coast.
And now, Quin. Almost all of those who had fed from Kit before now had done so against his will. But with Quin, there wasn’t just an overwhelming willingness—everything was different.
Maybe Kit was stupid for trusting Quin so quickly, and it would burn him like before.
Or maybe Kit would get to keep Quin forever.
Quin grasped Kit’s other wrist and did the same again, licking at his palm. Kit squirmed, finding it erotic, but ticklish.
“Do you want me to stop?” Quin asked.
“Yes, but also no.”
Quin shot Kit a sideways glance. “That’s not an answer.”
“It was. Just not one that made much sense.”
Quin chuckled, though it didn’t contain its usual depth. “You’ve got to stop hurting yourself.”
Kit didn’t answer. There was no point. If he said he’d stop, then it would just be another lie.
“Kit?”
He turned his head to look head-on at Quin, meeting his gaze.
“Are you sure you want to go further?” Quin asked. “I don’t want you to feel you have to do too much too fast. I’ll wait however long you need. And if it never happens, that’s okay as well. I have no expectations.”
“What if I have expectations?”
Quin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And what would those be?”
Kit felt like he could demand anything of Quin. But he stuck with what he really wanted. “You’re going to fuck me, and you’re going to do it well.”
“Okay.”
Kit blinked. “Really?”
“I’m a weak man, Kit. I have a pretty little vampire in my bed demanding that I fuck him. If that wasn’t enough, he’s also very naked. Resistance is futile.” Quin had a glint in his eye as he ever-so-slowly reached under the covers, his hand not quite touching Kit’s body as it travelled downwards.
Kit waited for contact and, sure enough, it came when Quin rubbed his thumb over the head of Kit’s cock.
“The pretty little vampire’s got a cute cock, too,” Quin said, sounding far too pleased with himself.
“I should be offended”—Kit moaned when Quin changed tack and stroked down his cock—“that you called my dick ‘cute’.”
Quin moved lower, cradling Kit’s balls. “You have cute little balls, too, baby boy.”
“Nobody thinks balls are cute, Daddy.”
“But you don’t have a problem with me calling them small?”
Kit shot Quin a narrow-eyed glare. “I don’t want big balls. Then they’d definitely not be cute.”
“Excuse me, are you insulting my balls now?”
Kit lifted the covers enough to peer down at Quin’s balls. “Hmm. I suppose they are on the larger side.” He cocked his head. “Is one bigger than the other?”
Quin looked down at his own body, grimacing. “Yeah. Lefty’s a bit bigger than righty.”
Kit never imagined he would be lying in bed studying his partner’s uneven bollocks. But here he was, and somehow, he’d not want to be anywhere else at that moment. He sniggered as Quin put a hand over his own balls to hide them from view.
“That’s quite enough attention you’ve paid them,” Quin said.
“Oh no,” Kit said dryly. “I suppose you’ll have to go back to paying attention to me instead.”
“Is that so?” Quin asked, even as he threw the duvet off and moved down the bed, not stopping until his face hovered over Kit’s erection.
“I’m feeling neglected, Daddy.”
“We can’t have that, can we, baby boy?” Quin smirked up at him and then swallowed his cock down to the root.
“Oh!” Kit bucked up, eliciting a gag from Quin before he let Kit’s cock drop from his mouth.
“One of us here still needs to breathe, baby,” Quin rasped.
“It was so nice.”
“‘Nice’? Christ, okay, I need to up my game.”
Quin kept true to his word, keeping Kit on the edge, sucking him almost to the point of orgasm several times before slowing things down.
When Quin began prepping him, one cautious finger at a time, Kit ended up begging for more.
He unashamedly pulled his legs up, knees near his ears.
It left him wide open for Quin, and he didn’t give a second thought to how exposed he was.
He didn’t care, not when Quin’s fingers were driving him incoherent with need.
They used proper lube this time around, and if Kit had been in a mood to complain, he might have commented on the excessive amount Quin used. It was unscented, at least. All Kit smelled was Quin’s natural musk, with only the faintest hint of bergamot filling the room.
Kit sniffed, detecting another scent on Quin’s skin. It was of Kit himself. Quin had tasted Kit’s blood, and now they smelled like they belonged to each other. Kit smiled, content, then gasped when Quin added his pinky to the three fingers he was already using to open him up.
“I can see inside of you, baby boy.” Quin’s voice came out in a growl, a bit of his beast bleeding into the man.
Kit didn’t have the words to express how that made him feel. He writhed on the bed as Quin pumped his fingers in and out of him, a litany of, “Oh, oh, ohs,” falling from his lips.
When Quin knelt up on the bed, wiping his fingers on the sheet with a rueful look, Kit knew he was going to get what he wanted.
It was like he’d been waiting for this forever.
Like the last few decades had been building to this, like this was the culmination of everything that had happened to him until that moment.
Quin slicked himself up, pumping his cock a few times. It was ruddy, flushed as red as Quin’s cheeks. “Are you ready, baby?”
Kit whined wordlessly and shuffled on the bed, wanting Quin to hurry it up.
“Kit, tell me.”
Kit screwed his eyes shut as he tried to reclaim the power of speech. “Daddy, please,” he managed.
Quin guided his cock to Kit’s hole. Even with all the prep and lube, it didn’t just slide in like Kit had expected. One of Quin’s hands moved to Kit’s hip, keeping him steady as he pressed inexorably forward. Kit bore down, and the head of Quin’s cock popped inside of him.
Quin’s fingers weren’t the same as his thick cock. Kit swallowed, taking an unnecessary breath at the overwhelming fullness. Quin stilled, thumb stroking over Kit’s hip. “You all right for me to move, baby?”
Kit contemplated his answer for a long second before nodding.
He let go of his legs, leaving them hanging limp on either side of Quin’s hips.
It made the angle a bit more difficult for Quin to get deep, but that was fine by him.
There was the slightest burn as Quin pressed forward; a satisfying sort of pain that told Kit he was doing a good job.
Being face to face for this felt different.
When Quin had taken him apart the night before, he had been able to hide his reactions.
Now, Quin saw everything. Kit shut his eyes tight.
Doing so without being told he had to keep them open was a novel experience for him. He could just feel and not have to see.
“Right, I’m about halfway in,” Quin said. “You’re doing so well.”
Kit’s eyes flew open. He refused to believe that only half of Quin’s cock was inside of him—surely it was an impossibility for there to be more to come. But Quin kept going deeper until his balls rested against Kit’s arse.
“Oh, fuck,” Quin said reverently. “You feel so perfect stretched around me, baby boy.”
By this point, Quin held most of Kit’s body aloft.
As Quin eased back out, Kit clutched at the bedsheets.
A rip stole his attention for a second, and he looked down to see that his claws had torn ten identical holes in the sheets.
But he was too far gone to worry about damaging anything of Quin’s.
Besides, Kit had enough money to buy a thousand silk sheets without making a dent in his bank account.