Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Kit
Kit’s eyes fell shut for the third time in as many minutes.
He lay curled up on the sofa with his head pillowed in Quin’s lap, the rhythmic scratch of Quin’s blunt nails over his scalp making Kit feel like a spoiled cat.
He wasn’t missing anything by dozing—Quin was watching the highlights of the rugby, and though Kit didn’t care for the sport, he appreciated how excited Quin got when watching his team play.
Whilst Quin made vague sports-related observations that Kit hummed along in agreement to, his mind was elsewhere. In the couple of nights after the possession, nothing untoward had happened. Everything seemed normal. There was no sign of Lawrence, not even in a nightmare.
Kit was waiting for the worst to happen. This time, he’d prepared himself. He’d hidden the chains under the bed when Quin wasn’t looking, and Quin had told Kit to just knock him out if need be—head injury be damned.
Quin had been careful around him ever since the possession, which Kit hated.
He knew Quin wanted to ask him more questions about what Lawrence had done to him in the past, but Quin hadn’t asked outright.
Kit was concerned that if Quin found out, he might never be intimate with him again for fear of hurting him.
And then there was the other thing. The big thing. The thing about Quin loving Kit. In some ways, it wasn’t surprising. Quin showed his love in every action, every word, every touch. Kit felt loved for the first time in his life.
But he hadn’t said it back.
It hadn’t occurred to him that he would ever speak those words aloud to anyone.
He’d loved his sister, but neither of them were the sort of people who would be so sentimental as to say it.
His mother’s apathy had snuffed out any love he’d had for her, and his father wasn’t even worth considering as someone capable of giving or receiving love.
His parents had only seemed to tolerate one another.
Kit was unsure how to voice the feelings he had for Quin.
Saying he loved him would be the least of it.
Until Quin had come into his life, he’d just been surviving.
Kit had forgotten how laughter tasted on his tongue, how anticipation could curl around his heart, how need could burn through his body.
He craved it, how Quin overwhelmed him in the most wonderful of ways—Kit couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to.
To top it all off, Quin was being patient with him. Perhaps it was time Kit rewarded him for it.
But first, Kit needed to feed. He hadn’t done so recently, so no doubt his current lethargy was due in part to the lack of blood.
They’d spent the past couple of nights in bed together, doing little more than holding each other.
It was frightfully domestic, truth be told, but Quin had insisted upon it, which Kit was grateful for.
“I need to eat,” Kit announced.
“Feed from me,” Quin said, moving his hand from Kit’s hair and waggling his wrist in front of his face.
Kit sat up, his fangs growing as his thirst was tempted. His brain took on the fuzziness he got when he was starving. It was like when he and Quin fucked, Kit’s base instincts mingling with the buzz of excitement. It allowed him to get out of his head, to give himself over to Quin.
Kit believed that he was the one getting the better end of the deal.
Quin noticed Kit’s shift in mood. “I’ll take those teeth as a yes, baby boy.”
Anticipation thrummed under Kit’s skin. “Are you sure, Daddy?” he asked, conscious of the faint lisp his fangs gave him.
“Course,” Quin said, giving Kit a wicked smile. One of Quin’s hands slid down his body until it was resting over his crotch. “Do you want to make the feeding even more fun?”
Kit ran his tongue over his aching teeth. “In what way?”
“How about you climb onto my lap, sit on my dick, and suck me dry?”
Kit pressed a hand to his chest, scandalised. “Daddy!”
Quin raised an eyebrow. “Too much?” he asked.
“I should say yes. But no. Apparently, I like your muchness.”
Quin grinned, as bright as the moon on the clearest of nights, before it morphed into a look of frustration. “Oh wait, shit, I left the lube upstairs.”
“Give me two seconds,” Kit said, then ran upstairs.
He threw off the little clothing he had on, all of it landing nowhere in particular.
He grabbed the lube and, instead of bringing it back downstairs, poured some onto his fingers and made about prepping himself.
Just enough, and no more. He wanted to feel it.
“That was not two seconds,” Quin complained when Kit returned to the room. “I almost had to take care of myself.”
Kit put a sway in his step as he approached, trying for sexy. The sound of Quin’s quickening heartbeat told him he’d succeeded. “Figured I’d speed things up a bit, Daddy.”
“Speed things up? Oh,” Quin said, realisation dawning in his eyes. “Well, in that case, hop on.”
“I will not be hopping on, because your dick is not a bus.”
“And yet, you’re about to ride it,” Quin said, teeth flashing in a grin.
Kit rolled his eyes but climbed onto Quin’s lap. “You know you don’t have to tell dad jokes to be a Daddy, right?”
“No, but it helps.”
Kit braced himself over Quin, knees on either side of his parted thighs. Quin had shoved his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, but only far enough for his cock to poke out. He hadn’t even taken his T-shirt off. The contrast was exhilarating.
Quin sat back, letting Kit set the pace. Kit grasped Quin’s cock, guiding it to his hole. Quin was so large that it burned the entire way as Kit sank down, inch by inch, until he was fully seated.
Quin hadn’t moved a muscle, still lying with his arms draped across the top of the sofa. The only obvious tell that he was holding himself back was his racing heart.
Kit put both of his hands on Quin’s shoulders, balancing as he adjusted to the position.
It always felt so much deeper like this.
Physically, but emotionally, too. Face to face and almost of a height, Kit couldn’t hide any of his reactions.
He didn’t want to, either. The avid way that Quin studied his face as Kit settled himself was a reward in itself.
To be the sole focus of Quin’s attention was beyond gratifying.
Kit didn’t consider himself to be an overly vain person, but there was something to be said about being the subject of such blatant, unrestrained desire.
He played up to it, throwing his head back as he rose on Quin’s lap until the crown of Quin’s cock tugged at his rim.
With exquisite slowness, he lowered again, eliciting a groan from Quin.
Kit let his fangs scrape against his lower lip, tasting his own blood.
“Oh, baby boy,” Quin said. “You’re torturing me.”
Kit grinned up at the ceiling. He continued undulating himself on Quin’s lap, taking what he wanted. He gasped as he angled himself just right for Quin’s cock to drag right across his prostate.
“You’re driving me insane,” Quin groaned. The sofa creaked as Quin’s hands flexed.
“That’s the idea.”
“Evil little vampire,” Quin said fondly.
Kit looked at Quin, flashing his teeth. “I want to bite you now, Daddy.”
Quin tilted his head to the side in offering. Kit didn’t wait for further invitation, diving right in. He sank his teeth into the flesh where Quin’s shoulder met his neck, the taste of Quin’s blood hitting his tongue in a satisfying spurt.
Rich and decadent, even a few drops would nourish Kit down to his soul. But Quin would allow Kit to take as much as he needed.
Kit was only aware of two things in that moment: the taste of Quin, and the feel of Quin’s cock in his arse. Quin was filling him at both ends, in the best of ways.
Quin’s arms went around Kit, one circling his waist and pressing their bodies tight together, and the other hand cradling the back of Kit’s head.
Fingers tangled in Kit’s curls, but there was no painful tugging, just their steady presence.
The perfect rub of their bodies—Quin’s hairy chest against Kit’s hairless torso, Kit’s slender legs against Quin’s thick thighs—had them so close that nothing could ever come between them.
“Why is it so good when you bite me?” Quin murmured.
Kit pulled his mouth from Quin’s skin, lapping at the incisions before speaking. “You’re a bit of a pain slut?”
Quin huffed. “I don’t think so.”
Kit drew a taloned finger around one of Quin’s nipples, Quin squirming under the attention.
Kit pressed his nail in harder, watching Quin’s face all the while.
Quin’s breathing sped up and his heart beat faster, but he didn’t ask Kit to cease.
There was something about challenging Quin that was irresistible to Kit.
He’d never been able to explore like this before, to test his or his partner’s limits with no fear of repercussions.
“Kit, baby,” Quin warned when Kit almost broke the skin. “I think you’ve spilled quite enough of my blood today.”
Kit raised an eyebrow. “Tell me to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know you’ll stop me from taking too much.”
Quin shifted his hips, his cock rubbing inside of Kit in a way that had him clenching. “Kit, I’m not afraid of that.”
“You might be bigger, but I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you. If I wanted to hold you down and feed from you, you’d have no say in it.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d have a say in it,” Quin said, scoffing. “Plus, you wouldn’t do that.”
Kit considered all the times he’d not been in control lately, and how easy it had been to overpower Quin. “I can’t promise anything.”
“But I can,” Quin insisted. “I promise you won’t hurt me.”
“A few days ago I—oh!” Kit lost his train of thought as Quin thrust upwards, hitting his prostate.
“A few days ago I wasn’t myself,” Quin said. His voice was low and strained: he was holding back.
Kit tried to continue the conversation, but Quin had given up on letting him lead. He thrust upwards, shoving himself deeper into Kit before repeating the motion.