Close Quarter Page 9

  “I guess I healed that too,” Rhys said.

  No fae had that kind of ability. Yes, they could draw life. Take, manipulate, and use the power their element gave them, but nothing like this. Silas could coax a plant to health over days and weeks, not regrow a whole damn tree in hours.

  Wars had been fought over a single Quarter. Silas’s mouth turned to sand. “I was wrong about you.”

  Rhys barked a sharp laugh. “Wrong? You? Has that ever happened before?” Sarcasm coated each word. “The great Silas?”

  Silas flinched, despite himself. Wrong, oh yes. He’d followed his heart rather than his head. How many lives were lost last time?

  So much power flowed from Rhys, but Silas’s desperate need for it was gone. Probably because so much now flowed through him too.

  When they reached land, other fae would come for Rhys, drawn to that firebrand of energy, just like the vampires. Just like he’d been.

  Would they treat Rhys well? Would he even let another fae touch Rhys?

  Silas shook himself out of his reverie. This had to end. He needed to warn Rhys. “I’ve made a mess of things with you. Come. Sit. We should to talk.” He patted the bed next to him.

  “Last time we tried to talk, you threw me out of your room.”

  “I didn’t exactly throw you out.”

  Energy licked off Rhys like tongues of flame and coalesced around his closed fists. “Close enough.”

  Truth. Silas ignored it. “Then why did you come back?”

  Rhys pushed himself off the wall and joined him by the bedside. He didn’t sit. “You need me.”

  Not at all the answer Silas expected. He stared up at Rhys.

  Rhys brushed the back of his hand against Silas’s cheek. Blazing hot, full of life. It took all of Silas’s resolve not to pull Rhys down on top of him.

  “You’re going to run from me again, aren’t you?” Rhys said.

  Run? That made no sense. “This isn’t about me.” Silas ran a hand through his hair, pushing errant locks out of his eyes so he could see better. “And what do you mean, again?”

  “This is about you.” Rhys finally sat. “Every time we meet, you leave me, and I have to chase you down.”

  Chase him down? “I found you.”

  “No,” Rhys said. “I found you.”

  That wasn’t correct. Silas opened his mouth to argue, but then Rhys’s mouth was against his, and his tongue tangled around Silas’s before he could think of the words to say. Rhys pushed him backward onto the bed and laid the length of his body down, his legs between Silas’s own. Rhys pressed his bulging package against Silas’s cock.

  Presumptuous. So very American. But the feel of Rhys’s body and the thrust of his tongue sent heat curling into Silas’s stomach. He moaned against Rhys and tugged the back of his shirt up. Silas slipped his hands under the waistband of Rhys’s jeans, wanting to feel the hot flesh of his ass.

  Rhys ground against him.

  He’d not let another fae touch Rhys. Not now.

  Rhys broke the kiss, touched his face. “I found you.”

  “You spilled drinks on me,” Silas said. He slid his hands around and worked the button and fly of the jeans open. The room smelled of sea grass and he wanted more of Rhys’s skin against his own. “You weren’t even looking where you were going. That’s not finding.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Rhys said. He slid his mouth down Silas’s neck, nipped at his shoulder. “You left. Didn’t even give me a second glance. I came after you. Chose you.”

  Pricks of heat blazed along Silas’s skin, and he arched underneath Rhys, momentarily losing focus. In the time it took him to recover, Rhys had undone the tie to his robe and pushed it open. He sucked on Silas’s right nipple.

  That set his whole body aflame. No breath left to cry out, he bucked Rhys off him.

  Rhys laughed and pressed a hand against Silas’s stomach, achingly close to Silas’s erection. “And you complained about me being sensitive?”

  It took Silas a moment to catch his breath. He propped himself up on an elbow. “That wasn’t a complaint, merely an observation.” He’d—somehow—lost the upper hand in this conversation, and he was damn well going to get it back. He tugged at Rhys’s shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  “Yes.”

  Rhys sat up, stripped his shirt off. He peeled the jeans off his body. No underwear.

  Glorious.

  Silas had seen Rhys naked when he’d healed him. That had been clinical and necessary. The sight of Rhys’s body aroused was magnificent, all his muscles taut, his breath rippling his stomach, his cock thick and flush.

  Silas shrugged out of the arms of his robe and tossed it off the bed. “Much better.”

  Rhys crawled over and straddled Silas, his balls rubbing against Silas’s cock, and effectively trapped Silas’s legs against the bed. “Good. God forbid you have any complaints.”

  No human—and very few fae—had ever had the audacity to control Silas in bed. Yet here he was, letting Rhys do just that. More than that. Silas’s skin tingled.

  Rhys gripped Silas’s arms and pinned the rest of his body to the bed. He found himself looking up into Rhys’s face, which held a wild beauty that stopped his breath. Desire and lust in those green eyes. Hope as well.

  Hope. Ah gods.

  Silas had no idea what Rhys saw in his face, but it caused Rhys to loosen his grip, lean down, and capture Silas’s mouth with his own.

  Amid the tangle of their limbs and tongues and the rush of blood to his dick, Silas’s mind finally registered Rhys’s earlier words. He broke their kiss. “What did you say?”

  “God forbid you have complaints?”

  “Before that.” He knew, or thought he did. He needed to hear it again to be sure.

  A sly smile touched Rhys’s lush mouth. “What, that I chose your arrogant ass? Came after you?”

  Yes. That. “What?”

  “See? Arrogant.” Rhys rubbed his thumb over Silas’s lips, leaving behind the taste of sun-warmed ivy. “If I hadn’t stopped you in the hall, would you have looked for me?”

  He sought the memory—it had been only yesterday, for Juno’s sake—and turned it over in his head.

  Rhys’s breath caressed his cheek. “Well?”

  “No. You were just…” The stunning quarter-fae who lay atop him and the human who had spilled drinks on him were the same being, but not in his memory. “You were just another human.”

  “You were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen,” Rhys said. “And I caught you.”

  Somewhere, Silas imagined, the Messengers were laughing at him. Or perhaps not.

  What would you have done, had you known?

  Run? Left the ship to the soulless?

  Rhys had followed him of his own free will. “You did find me.” He sounded stupefied, even to his own ears.

  “Fool.” Rhys kissed his way down Silas’s neck, heading straight toward his nipple again.

  Oh no. He’d had enough of that particular torture for the night. Silas pulled their bodies together. His cock slid against the hard length of Rhys’s erection, with delightful results. Rhys twisted against him and gasped.

  Silas trailed one hand down Rhys’s spine and stroked his lower back. He tangled his other in Rhys’s hair, neatly trapping the man against his body. Then he rocked his hips.

  Rhys answered back, thrusting down. Insistent. Needy. He moaned into Silas’s shoulder. “You damn well better have condoms and lube somewhere in this room.”

  He couldn’t help the chuckle. “Black duffel in the closet. Front pocket.” He let go of Rhys’s hair and ran his knuckles over Rhys’s cheek. “But you don’t need the condoms.”

  Snakes might as well have slithered out of Silas’s ears for the way Rhys looked at him.

  “I’m not human.”

  “What?”

  “Rhys, I’m not human. I neither catch nor carry any diseases.”

  Silas
watched Rhys struggle against that thought, even with all he’d seen. “Not human,” he murmured.

  “I’m immortal. I don’t get sick. I don’t grow old.”

  “You can die. You almost did.”

  He stroked Rhys’s hair. “All creatures born can die. Even fae.” He paused. Then he spoke the words he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself. “I would’ve last night, but for you.”

  Rhys kissed his neck, and once more Silas rose against the pleasure of it, pulling Rhys into a tight embrace.

  “See,” Rhys said. “You do need me.”

  “Very much so.” Silas cupped Rhys’s ass with one hand and pulled Rhys up his body, then slid a finger down the cleft between the cheeks, grazing Rhys’s hole. Rhys squirmed against him, dick hard against his thigh. “Right now, in fact,” Silas said.

  Rhys took Silas’s earlobe between his lips and sucked.

  For a moment, the entirety of Silas’s world tunneled down to the warmth and tug of Rhys’s lips. Damn that mouth. Silas loosened his grip, only realizing his mistake when Rhys captured Silas’s other nipple with his hand.

  With Rhys’s full weight against him, Silas couldn’t throw him off. Gods, he was stronger than he looked. When Rhys rolled the sensitive nub of flesh between his fingers, bolts of pleasure slid down Silas. He moaned despite himself and twisted, just as Rhys had done.

  Neatly caught.

  When Rhys finally relented his torture, Silas devoured his mouth. Between breaths, he spoke three words into Rhys’s mouth. “Even more now.”

  “Good.” Rhys shifted, opening enough space between them to encircle Silas’s cock with his hand. Strong grip. Excruciatingly slow strokes. Silas closed his eyes to keep the world from spinning. Rhys spoke into his ear. “I want to come inside you.”

  Fucked by Rhys? Oh, how he wanted that. Silas trembled and opened his eyes. “Di,” he murmured, more surprised at his reaction than Rhys’s statement.

  Rhys trailed kisses down Silas’s chest. “That’s not ‘yes,’ is it?” He paused and slid his hands underneath Silas’s ass. “In Latin?”

  “It’s ‘gods.’” Silas pushed Rhys’s head farther down his body, wanting to feel those lips elsewhere. He shivered. “‘Yes’ is… There’s no single word for ‘yes.’”

  “That explains a lot about you, you know,” Rhys said. Then he sucked the head of Silas’s cock into his mouth.

  Silas tightened his hold on Rhys’s head as lightning shot through his veins. Impudent, arrogant, beautiful man. “Yes.”

  He felt Rhys chuckle around his dick, but Rhys didn’t stop, not right away. He slowed, though, until every stroke was wonderfully agonizing. The texture of Rhys’s lips, the slight graze of his teeth as he pulled Silas’s foreskin up over the head, then pushed it back down. Ripples of heat twined through Silas and set his veins throbbing. The delicate scent of sweet violets drifted around them. Flowers from the fields of his youth.

  He would die from this. The first of his kind to be slaughtered by too much pleasure. “Rhys, please. Just—”

  Rhys engulfed him completely, stealing breath and words.

  No one had ever done this to him, taken away his thought, his complete control. Then again, he’d never let anyone try. Silas wanted more.

  Rhys pulled off before Silas could get any rhythm started, licked the head of Silas’s cock, and then his own fingers. “Yes?” Rhys said.

  Wicked amusement in those green eyes. Rhys’s wet fingers delved into the cleft of Silas’s ass and teased the ring of his hole. Energy twined about the both of them and Silas fought against the tightening in his balls. “Black bag. Closet. Front pocket.” Strange to hear himself panting those words.

  “Is that a yes?”

  He grabbed Rhys by the shoulders, pulled him up, and shook him. “Gods alive, man! Yes, that’s a yes!” He let go. “What do you want from me?”

  Rhys grinned down at him, full of mirth and triumph. “You to tell me, in plain English, what you want.”

  “You infuriating, insufferable—”

  “Sexy?”

  Silas laughed. In the absurdity of the moment, he could do nothing more. He ran his hands down Rhys’s sides, and cupped his balls. “Yes, that too.”

  Rhys’s arms trembled as Silas explored his length. He stroked Rhys slowly, tracing veins, the scar where he’d been cut. “I want you to come inside me.” He’d never thought to say those words to any man. His entire body felt flush.

  Rhys leaned down, kissed him, and rolled off the bed.

  Silas tried to catch his breath and his mind, because surely he’d lost that somewhere. He’d intended to put Rhys off, explain why they couldn’t be lovers. Now he was begging Rhys to fuck him?

  Moments later, Rhys was back, towering over him. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?”

  Terrified? Of a Quarter who slipped past every defense he had, made him lose all discipline, all thought? “Hardly.”

  Rhys lay down on him and placed his hands to either side of Silas’s face. “Horrible liar.” Then Rhys’s mouth was on his, pulling at his bottom lip. And Rhys’s hips—ah, they ground Rhys in slow circles against Silas’s cock and balls.

  Silas caught the flesh of Rhys’s ass and spread his cheeks apart. “Are you nothing but talk and tease?”

  Rhys’s chuckle was dark and sensuous. He sat up, dislodging Silas’s grip. “You hate being out of control.”

  He stroked Rhys’s arms, well aware that his were trembling. Yes. That frightened him. Not the games they were playing right now, but his life tumbling into the unknown. Rhys—not he—had chosen the path they walked along. There wasn’t any turning back. Not anymore.

  His fate. Rhys’s will. Silas’s heart felt as though it would beat out of his chest. “‘Hate’ isn’t quite the right word for it.”

  Rhys pushed him down. “What happened to carpe diem?” He didn’t wait for an answer before kissing his way down Silas’s body.

  “‘Carpe’ implies”—the warmth of Rhys’s mouth on the shaft of his cock robbed Silas of most of his breath—“action.” The last word was no more than a moan.

  “Carpe Silas, then.” A snap of a lid, then Rhys slid a lubed finger around the outside of his hole. Warm air surrounded his balls before Rhys sucked one into his mouth.

  Silas’s cock ached with the need to be in that hot, tight embrace. He thrust upward, seeking some release. But there was no relief to be found in air. Elemental energy wound up him and blossomed at the back of his skull. He crushed the sheets in his fists.

  Rhys slid a finger into Silas, then a second, grazing against that spot inside that sent the whole world spinning into oblivion. Again and again Rhys thrust his fingers, working his hole. Silas moaned, wanting to be filled more, pounded deeper.

  Though Rhys licked and sucked Silas’s sac, never once did he touch Silas’s cock. Maddening. Silas’s balls ached from Rhys’s torment, his cock hard with need. Seize, indeed. He reached to stroke himself, find the sweet bliss he craved.

  Rhys caught his hand before he got near his cock, grabbed his other hand, and forced both above his head, pinning them against the mattress.

  “No.”

  No? Silas stilled for a moment, then fought to break free of Rhys’s grip. Failed. Apparently cords of muscle lurked beneath Rhys’s frame. He twisted under Rhys in another attempt to break his hold. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

  “Yeah.” That brash grin lit up his face. “I’m driving you mad.”

  Every one of Silas’s nerves sang with a chorus of desire. Mad? Insane. He stopped struggling.

  “That’s better.” Rhys leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “Now let me finish.”

  “You damn well better.” Oh, the things he wanted to do to Rhys. Recompense would be sweet.

  Rhys let him go, dragged his fingers down Silas’s arms and across his stomach. Every place Rhys touched tingled. Silas trembled as Rhys worked his way lower. This time Rhys did touch his cock, but only tapped a tantalizi
ng rhythm down his shaft.

  Not enough. Never enough. Breath hissed out between his teeth. Resisting the urge to stroke himself was excruciating, but he wanted to see what Rhys would do to him. He wanted Rhys to fill him, stretch him wide. Again. And again.

  Ah, gods. He was lost. Completely. He arched back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

  Silas heard the sound of the lube bottle snap open, then close. Rhys pulled Silas’s legs up and his fingers slid inside Silas, twisting and stretching. Then the fingers were gone, even as Silas bucked his hips up.

  “Silas, look at me.”

  He did as told. How could he not, trapped as he was? If you had known, what would you have done?

  Sweat glistened on Rhys’s skin, dampened his hair. His eyes shone with need. The warm, thick head of Rhys’s cock pressed against Silas’s asshole.

  “Thank you,” Rhys murmured and pushed forward.

  Rhys was in him, spreading him open, filling him deeply. Touching every part inside him that craved to be touched. Complete. It was the end of the world when Rhys withdrew. And the beginning of another when Rhys drove in again. And again.

  He hadn’t expected to cry out. Certainly he’d been fucked before. Those years—centuries—of experience mattered very little. Rhys was too much, too fast.

  And not nearly enough. He wanted—needed more. He moved, matching Rhys’s thrusts, urging him deeper. Silas caught Rhys’s arms and pulled him down.

  And Rhys obliged, nails scraping against Silas’s scalp when he tangled his hands in Silas’s hair. Rhys kissed him, forcing his tongue past Silas’s lips, devouring his mouth.

  The world faded down to Rhys relentlessly pounding into him, setting his veins alight. Liquid sunlight pooled inside him and spilled out into his limbs. Just when Silas thought he couldn’t be driven any higher, Rhys quickened his strokes. Staccato strikes of flesh on flesh resounded as Rhys hit his sweet spot over and over. Elemental energy wrapped around Silas and sank to his base. Jolts of heat shot up to his skull, and his balls tightened, and Silas gave himself over to the coming orgasm.

  Only Silas didn’t come. The element consumed Silas—and Rhys was inside him.