He lay there panting, his eyes screwed shut, waiting for reality to reassert itself. A cool hand touched his calf. “You good?”
“So much better ’n good”, he slurred. “Fucking fantastic.”
Sorley wriggled up the bed. He stroked Gethin’s damp hair off his forehead in a gesture so tender it made the wolf’s chest hitch. This was still just sex, right?
“Need a break?”
Gethin commanded one eye to open. “You didn’t come, did you?”
“No, but I could wank over your chest. Mess you up good and proper so your walk of shame to the bathroom is a mortifying one.” His eyes sparkled with devilment. “Perils of an old house. Not enough en suite facilities. Not even a sink in here.” He stuck out his tongue in a curiously endearing, childish way. “If you were a vampire, you’d have got a nicer room.”
“You’re a terrible person.” But he couldn’t put any heat into his statement, and by his expression, Sorley knew he didn’t mean it. “Why don’t you fuck me?”
Sorley’s jaw dropped open. “Really?”
“Yes really. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Won’t you be sore? Isn’t it too much when you’ve just come?”
“Firstly, I’m not a ‘puny little human’, and secondly, some of them also love being pounded after an orgasm. Don’t assume we’re all alike, whatever our species.” He opened the other eye and glowered at Sorley. “Unless you’re not up to it, of course.” He backtracked immediately. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know you said you’re vers, but that doesn’t mean you’re always willing. You’re not a machine.”
“Chill your beans, sir. We’re good.” Sorley draped himself lengthways over Gethin and bit down carefully on his Adam’s apple. “I would bloody love to fuck you. Watch you come apart on my prick. Bring you to a completion so intense it shakes your teeth loose.”
“Unnfff.” Gethin took a moment to compose himself. “You are funny, the way you treat language like a permanent remix challenge. Gives me whiplash, but I like it.” He stroked his large hands down the bumps in Sorley’s spine, then caressed his bum, squeezing it and enjoying the way the guy squirmed against him. “Don’t people ever question the way you talk?”
“No. But then, I suspect perhaps I don’t think before I speak when I’m with you.” Sorley hid his face in Gethin’s armpit. “Am I going to fuck you, or what?”
Aww, he’d embarrassed him. Cute. He slapped Sorley’s arse briskly. “You’re going to fuck me. Andthen,I’m going back to sleep.”
Except Gethin hadn’t bargained for how good it would feel with Sorley rocking into him inch by careful inch, whispering flattering nonsense as he took it almost too slowly. The way he’d nodded agreeably when Gethin had insisted on lying on his front, but then how Sorley had still been flexible enough to reach around for kisses and nibbles and, oh God, more kisses, until he was finally balls deep in Gethin, the soft scrape of his ginger pubes somewhere between a tickle and a caress. It should have been a fuck, no more and no less, but Gethin couldn’t contain the rush of emotions he felt flooding his system as his libido roared back to life under the expert manhandling of a man who’d had more experience than he dared imagine. No matter how many orgasms Sorley could wring from him, no matter the number of times Gethin had allowed himself a moment to dream of a different future to the one he could see ahead, this was just good,greatsex. He couldn’t,wouldn’t,allow himself to acknowledge the creeping suggestive thoughts that kept insisting this thing between them could be more.
Which is why, when Sorley had shuddered through an orgasm that shook the sturdy bed frame, then flipped Gethin like a pancake to swallow his cock back down, thrusting his fingers back into him to coax a second, almost painful climax out of him, Gethin bit his tongue until it bled to prevent the words leaving his sex-ravaged brain.
What he wanted to say was,“I think I’m in love with you.”
What came out was, “We’ll need to rest properly because Dalziel and Justin will have our nuts if we come downstairs yawning later.”
He felt Sorley shut down as if he’d been unplugged from a socket, but not quickly enough to drown out the wave of confusion and hurt that swirled around him like mist, snuffing out the sensual positivity of the last hour.
His expression blank, Sorley slid gracefully off the bed and stepped into his pyjamas, now creased, but no less alluring. “I’ll go back to my room,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “It has a power shower, and a view of the forest. See you this evening.”
He left without looking back.
Gethin buried his face in the pillows that smelled of Sorley and allowed a single pathetic sob of frustration to break free. Then, knowing he’d never sleep while his mind was racing, he stood to lock the door once more, set an alarm on his phone, and shifted.
His wolf circled around on the bed, messing up the covers until he deemed it passably comfortable, then he curled up around his tail and quickly, blessedly, willed himself into dreamland.
22
SORLEY
There werefourteen of them milling around Dalziel’s large circular table, with several extra chairs, although Sorley didn’t understand why they were waiting. It had been dark for an hour now and as far as he knew they weren’t expecting any more vampires. Pavel had kept the company plied with assorted refreshments and there was a burble of quiet chatter as people introduced themselves and each other around the table.
Edwin had turned up twenty minutes ago, looking harried. “Bloody Scotland,” he’d scowled as Sorley went to say hello. “Too much daylight and far too many open spaces.”
Sorley ignored his thinly-veiled jibe at Dalziel’s favourite home. Edwin was a city rat born and bred, who moaned every time the Council required his services beyond the boundaries of the Thames on one side of his home and Regent’s Park on the other. He pulled Edwin down to sit next to him. With Alec on the other side, he felt he was as safely buffered from whatever uncomfortable issues the meeting would bring up as was possible. He was ignoring Gethin.
Justin Woodley, the Head Wolf at the Council, all barrel-chested six foot two of him, had embraced Gethin warmly. He’d presumably arrived a while ago as he’d never have dared to snub Dalziel by not greeting him first as a matter of courtesy. The dark-skinned shifter seemed totally at ease in the panelled, antique-stuffed meeting room. With his rich, outdoorsy scent, long braids and fashionably-cut suit, he looked more like a laid-back music promoter or sports club owner, but Sorley knew him by reputation to be a hard-nosed, progressive and outspoken wolf, dedicated to pushing for an inclusive supernatural society. Sorley didn’t know the red-headed woman with him, but the illustrated list of attendees told him she was Susan Langridge, Justin’s second in command. Another departure from the historical women-in-the-kitchen gender roles the older generations of wolves had insisted on. Good for them. Apart from Gethin, Sorley really didn’t give a shit about shifters in general, but he was very much in favour of letting women and girls decide for themselves who they wanted to be.
