“Blah.”
Raze felt himself being shaken.
“Blah!”
More shaking.
“Raze!”
He blinked. Focused. Slake was standing in front of him, expression tight with concern, his hands on Raze’s shoulders.
“Raze, man, you okay?”
“Yeah.” No. Someone had intentionally maimed and killed dozens of people. How could he be okay with that? Making matters worse, as his adrenaline waned, his body was going through alternating hot and cold flashes, and his gut was starting to ache as the first symptoms of sexual withdrawal began. He glanced down at his watch. It was nearly 7 p.m., a little over twelve hours since Fayle had given him a release that had been so cold and clinical they might as well have been at UGH’s fertility clinic instead of their own apartment. He had no idea how long she was going to punish him for taking all of the control away from her last night, but he did know he’d need her again soon. Very soon.
But right now, as he looked into Slake’s eyes, he needed something else. He wasn’t even sure what. All he knew was that Slake was the key.
“Come with me.” Raze started walking, wondering if Slake would follow.
It wasn’t until he reached the door that led to his upstairs apartment that he heard the heavy strike of Slake’s boots behind him.
Slake followed Raze to an apartment across the way from Thirst, his steps leaden with exhaustion. At over a century old, Slake had seen a lot of violence—had been the cause of a lot of violence—but he’d never let himself get sucked into an emotional involvement.
Sure, over the years he’d lost a lot of friends and lovers, but he’d learned the hard way to never get too attached, and even more importantly, to never be affected by anyone else’s attachments. To never feel empathy. Or even sympathy. Life was hard, and it only got harder when you had more to care about than just yourself. Inevitably, those you cared about had a nasty habit of kicking you in the nuts when they couldn’t accept who you were.
But seeing Raze so affected by his failure to save everyone, especially a friend, had rattled something loose inside him. The guy had been stoic and professional from the moment they’d arrived on scene, but in the last five minutes, the hard shell surrounding Raze had cracked—as much a victim of the bombing as Thirst had been—and Slake found himself wanting to fix it.
Weird, considering that Slake had been born to a species of demon that was all about destruction and suffering. Of course, the fact that Slake had never fit in was exactly why he’d left them behind.
Still, his people might be barbaric and primitive, but there was something to be said for not giving a shit about anyone else’s pain. Even now, when Slake should have been doing what he always did and mentally preparing himself for the worst thing that could possibly happen once he stepped inside Raze’s apartment, he was wondering what he could do to erase the shadows that haunted Raze’s gorgeous green eyes.
Raze led Slake inside a small but neat apartment that appeared to be part of a converted factory floor. Thick metal pillars made for interesting obstacles, but at least they’d been painted in bright primary colors that matched the Ikea furniture and modern art on the walls. Soft jazz music drifted from what Slake assumed was a bedroom, but Raze took a sharp left and made a beeline for the kitchen. Slake started after him, but movement in the bedroom doorway caught his attention.
Halting, he swung his head around. A female was watching him, her black hair falling over her face so he could only see one eye, but that one eye was narrowed, full of suspicion.
Fayle. No question about it. He’d seen enough pictures—and one extremely detailed drawing provided by the law firm’s client—to recognize her.
He watched her until she pivoted around and disappeared back into the bedroom. Complete with a door slam.
For a split second he wondered what would happen if he hadn’t used the bindings intended for her to stop an injured dude’s bleeding, and instead barged into her room, grabbed her, and packaged her for delivery to Dire & Dyre. How much of a battle would Raze put up? Would he be forced to kill the guy?
Slake had always been careful to avoid collateral damage, but his soul was on the line, and he’d do what he had to do. But damn it, something about Raze made him want to figure out another way. Or, at least, to stall a little. Fayle would still be here tomorrow.
Probably.
Cursing himself for a fool, he entered the kitchen . . . and stopped dead. Raze stood at the sink, his scrub top wadded on the floor, leaving him tantalizingly nude from the waist up. His muscles rolled and flexed under the supple skin of his back as he washed the blood and soot from his hands and arms.
Damn. Slake swallowed dryly, unable to tear his gaze away. And when Raze finally grabbed a hand towel and wiped himself down, all Slake could think about was how lucky that piece of cloth was. And how his tongue could do a much better job.
Raze tossed the towel to the floor next to his soot-and-blood-streaked top and yanked open the fridge door. “Beer?”
Somehow, Slake managed a casual shrug and a scratchy, “Sure.”
Raze tossed him a bottle of some fancy microbrew, and then he twisted the cap off his own and drained half the contents.
“Thought you didn’t drink.”
Closing his eyes, Raze kicked his head back against the blue-tiled wall. The muscles in his throat rippled as he swallowed, and Slake suddenly imagined himself kissing his way down that long, arched neck. Imagined tracing the symbol under his jaw with his tongue. Imagined the sounds Raze would make while he was doing it. Gods, the very thought made heat rush to his groin and his heart race startlingly fast.
Slake wanted Raze in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone in a long, long time.
“I can’t get drunk, but drinking still makes me want what I can’t have.” Rake’s lids lifted, and Slake’s muscles went rubber at the dark hunger that gleamed in the depths of his eyes. “Right now, what I want is standing in front of me, and I’m pretty sure I can have it.” His voice went low. Smoky. Sexy as fuck. “Am I right?”
Holy shit. A tight fist of heat clenched in his chest and spread in a slow wave as his body reacted to the blatant promise of raw sex. He eyed Raze and those magnificent shoulders and thick arms that were built to hold a partner steady for an onslaught of bliss. Lower, his broad chest tapered down to rippling, hard abs and a narrow waist that disappeared into pants that did nothing to hide an impressive erection.
Gods, to have all that solid strength beneath him, absorbing his thrusts . . .
“You’re right,” Slake said roughly, even as what Wraith had said earlier echoed in his head. “But Wraith said your kind only does females, and I just saw one in your living room.”
Raze took a step closer, the glittery flecks in his eyes melting together like liquid gold. “I’ll die without sex. Sex with females. She keeps me alive, and I do the same for her.”
“But you can still have sex with males, right?” Please say yes. Please say yes.
“As long as a female is present, yes.” He took another step closer, his shoulders rolling, and Slake’s cock jerked.
“Present? Like, nearby?”
The tent in Raze’s scrubs grew even more pronounced, and Slake’s mouth watered. “Present, as in we have to ejaculate into one.”
“So . . . you’re bisexual?”
“Does it matter?” Raze said softly, the heat in his voice an almost tangible warmth that settled on Slake’s skin like a fever.
Suddenly, Slake didn’t care if the guy was into males, females, or two-headed asexual purple snake demons. All that mattered was closing the distance between them.
In an instant, Slake was no longer standing across the room from Raze. He was chest to chest, mouth to mouth, hard cock to hard cock.
Raze met him with equal enthusiasm, thrusting his tongue against Slake’s as he wrapped an arm around his waist and wheeled them both into the adjacent room. Which, thank fuck, turned out to be a bedroom.
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Slake didn’t question Raze’s motives in bringing him here after being so adamant about not wanting him. He took control the way he always did, pushing Raze onto the bed. Raze complied, lying back to allow Slake to pull off his scrub pants and boxer briefs. Slake practically drooled at the sight of Raze’s erection jutting up from between his legs, the dusky column of flesh curved against his hard belly.
Man, Raze was a work of art, a study of male perfection right down to the raw, wild intensity in his gold-flecked gaze.
Slake was not going to draw this out. He wanted it way too much.
Making quick work of his clothes, he lunged onto the bed. Raze arched his hips as Slake opened his mouth over the head of his cock and swirled his tongue around the crown.
“Yes,” Raze whispered. “Touch me.”
Like Slake needed to be told. Gripping Raze’s hips, he licked his way down his thick shaft until he reached the heavy sac at the base. Raze sucked in a harsh breath as Slake pressed the tip of his tongue against the seam dividing the two firm testicles.
As Slake sucked and licked Raze’s balls, he wrapped one hand around Raze’s cock and squeezed. Raze groaned, and Slake’s dick pulsed as if reminding him that it needed attention.
He let go of Raze and gripped his own erection as he worked his way back up, tracing the dark veins that read like a roadmap of ecstasy on Raze’s shaft. A silky drop of pre-cum dripped from the tip, and Slake eagerly captured it with his mouth, and this time it was his turn to groan. The salty, slightly spicy taste coated his tongue, and heat spread through his insides as he swallowed.
Damn, it was almost like downing a few shots of whiskey, the way every inch of his body became sensitized. At this point, Raze could probably caress Slake’s elbow and give him an orgasm.
Sex demons were awesome.
Nearly lost to lust, he looked up, meeting Raze’s hot gaze. Such a fucking turn-on to see that same want, that need, spreading through his eyes in splashes of molten gold. “Your eyes,” he rasped. “I love how they change color.”
“The gold comes out when I’m turned on.” Raze arched his hips, rubbing his erection on Slake’s chin and lips. “Or when I’m angry.”
Slake swirled his tongue around the crown of Raze’s cock, loving how Raze hissed in pleasure. “I like it. I want to see more.”
Raze slung an arm to the side to fumble with the bedside drawer, where he drew out a bottle of lube. Slake’s cock throbbed in agonizing response.
“What about the female?” Slake breathed, pretending he didn’t know who she was. And at this point, he didn’t care. He couldn’t, or an emotion he wasn’t used to might rear its ugly head.
Guilt.
Raze gripped Slake’s hair and roughly tugged him up his body. “Fayle will join us when I need her.”
Slake reminded himself to ask later how she’d know. Right now, all he wanted was to bury himself balls-deep inside Raze.
With an impatient snarl, Slake jammed his arm beneath Raze’s shoulders to flip him, but Raze stopped him with an iron grip on his biceps. Raze lifted his mouth to Slake’s ear and took his lobe between his teeth hard enough to make Slake hiss.
Raze licked the spot, soothing it, and then in a voice dripping with lust, he said, “You smell like sex. Power. It’s making me so hard it hurts. If I could, I’d have you bent over that chair behind you, and I’d drill you so hard you’d feel me for days.”
Ah . . . yes. Slake spread his thighs as Raze’s hand delved between them, finding his shaft, then going lower, to his balls, and when his fingertips found the sensitive patch just behind them, Slake tilted his hips to give Raze access to anything he wanted.
Slake had always preferred to do the drilling, as Raze had put it, but something about Raze made him want to experience being taken by a powerful, intense male who was literally made for sex.
Before Raze, he’d only felt that way about one other person, and even then, Slake’s sexual position on the bottom had been a requirement of their relationship, the only way Gunther would do it.
And damn it, why did that bastard have to intrude on what was happening right here, right now, with a male Gunther couldn’t even begin to compare to?
Mentally staking his vampire ex-lover, Slake shoved Raze roughly back into the mattress. “You’ll be the one feeling me, incubus,” he growled as he flipped Raze and covered him, pushing his erection between his muscular thighs.
Ah damn, he was not going to last long even like this. Somehow Raze knew, pushing himself up on his hands and knees so Slake’s cock was poised at his entrance.
Raze tossed the bottle of lube into the air. Slake caught it one-handed, and in a matter of seconds, he was pushing slowly past the tight ring of muscle. His sex throbbed as he eased inside Raze’s hot hole, and finally, gods finally, he was seated to the hilt.
Unable to wait another second, he withdrew . . . and then slammed his hips forward. Raze moaned, the sound swallowed by Slake’s own breathy groan.
Ecstasy rolled through him. Holy hell, this was unbelievable. Every inch of Raze’s body was made for this, which wasn’t a surprise, given that he was a sex demon, but still, the way his ass clenched around Slake’s cock, rippling from the base to the head . . . fuck.
He barely heard the sound of soft footsteps, realizing at the last second that Fayle had entered the room. He froze, embarrassed and angry at himself for letting his lust get in the way of maintaining a measure of awareness for everything going on around him. Then Raze pushed against him, and hey, it wasn’t as if Fayle was brandishing an ax and wearing armor. Even if she had, his weapons were in reach. They were always within reach.
But no, she was empty-handed, dressed the way she had been earlier, in black yoga pants and a yellow fitted T-shirt that showcased full breasts and a hard belly, and she didn’t look happy to be here. In fact, when she glanced at Slake, she curled her lip in a silent snarl, letting him know that if he had any intention of touching her, he’d best forget it.
Message received, but unnecessary. Slake had never been into females—to the murderous disappointment of his family.
Beneath him, Raze shifted, straightening up so his back plastered against Slake’s chest. Slake hissed at the new sensation from the upright position. Raze ground his ass against him, and the release boiling in his balls went critical. Clenching his teeth, he concentrated on holding it back as Fayle climbed onto the mattress, facing Raze on her hands and knees, and took his hard length in her mouth.
Jealousy screamed through Slake. He wanted to be the one to make Raze come. To make the guy shout to whatever deity he worshipped.
“Fuck me,” Raze groaned. “Do it. Hard.”
Oh hell yeah. Slake gripped Raze’s hip in one hand and slipped the other around to his sternum to brace him as he drew back his own hips and slammed them forward, nearly lifting Raze off the bed with the force of his thrust.
Raze groaned again, and Slake did it harder. Harder, until the only sound in the room was flesh slapping against flesh and panting breaths.
Slake’s balls went tight, the orgasm rolling through his cock until he exploded in a mind-blowing storm of sensation. It went on and on, and then, just as it died down, Raze shouted, his ass clenching, and Slake joined in for another release that shattered him more thoroughly than the first one. A third followed on its heels, draining him of everything, including energy and thoughts.
They collapsed onto the mattress, Slake shifting to the side so he wouldn’t crush Raze. It was only then that he realized Fayle had slipped away.
Good riddance. It was going to be a pleasure to deliver her to Dire & Dyre.
Raze didn’t know how long he lay in bed, unable to move, as helpless as a baby Sem. Slake could kill him right now, and all Raze could do about it would be to first thank him for the best orgasm of his life.
He’d been with males before, a couple of times, but it had always been awkward. Either they hadn’t liked having a female involved, or if they did, they were
disappointed that Fayle wouldn’t touch anyone but Raze.
Slake didn’t seem to give a shit either way.
They were still connected, an intimacy Raze had never shared with anyone. Not even Fayle. When they had sex, it was all about keeping Raze alive and giving her the kind of sexual rush her species needed to survive—a rush she didn’t even need to be in the same room to get. Her species was all about proximity to sex, about soaking up energy that radiated from the act of pleasure. Hell, Fayle generally avoided sex. Said it was messy. Annoying.
He smiled at the way his damp skin stuck to Slake’s. Messy, absolutely. Annoying? Hell no.
Slake slung his arm over Raze’s waist and brushed his knuckles back and forth along Raze’s rib cage. “That was . . .”
“Yeah,” Raze croaked. “It was. I can’t move. How are you moving?”
He felt Slake’s lips curve into a smile against his shoulder blade. “How is it that I was able to have multiple orgasms with you?”
Raze frowned, uncertain of the answer. “I’m not sure about males, but females always do. Our semen causes them to come over and over, for as long as half an hour.”
“Ah, well, I was sort of on the wrong side of you for that.”
Interesting. None of his other male partners had experienced that. He wondered if anyone had ever tested the effects of Seminus semen on males of various species. If anyone had, it was Eidolon. Not that he knew how to approach that subject.
Hey, Doc, I had sex with a dude, and he had multiple orgasms, and now I’m curious about our effects on males.
Yeah . . . no.
“So . . . is Fayle in her room right now having some happy time?”
Raze snorted. “Ingesting our semen has a different effect. Makes females horny.” Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn Slake stiffened a little. “But Fayle is a succubus that feeds off sexual energy. For her, semen is like a super-concentrated shot of fuel.”
Slake licked his throat, a slow swipe along his jugular, and Raze shivered with pleasure. “How often do you need her?”