Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

"Help,” Luke corrected. “The word you are looking for is help."

"Help. Help me get that thing out of your boy. I will pull out my power from him; you'll get the shell back. It's win-win situation for us both."

"And then?"

"Like I said. You'll never see me again."

Luke nodded, suddenly exhausted, though a good two to three hours remained of the night. “Tomorrow. I'll meet you at the restaurant."

"That's not good enough."

"It's going to have to be,” Luke said and began to close the door. Lathe reached out, about to push it open, but his hand was brought up short just inside the interior door frame. He slammed his fists against it, but it still barred him. “Not the way to win friends,” Luke said. He'd seen wild dogs up north, all but wild, taking food from their “masters.” They'd had the same look that Lathe did at that moment. He'd be safe for as long as Lathe needed something from him, but he didn't have to be told the promise of safety afterward was useless. “Tomorrow,” he said.

Lathe grinned at him, hunger and fury so close to the surface that if Luke scratched him, they would escape before the blood would. Lathe bowed his head once and then backed away. He got into his car, and Luke watched him go until the taillights were no longer visible.

He closed down the upstairs and went back to his storeroom for the night. He slept through sunrise and was well into the morning when he heard something in the main room. He opened his eyes, moving before he was fully awake. It was only Cory, sitting in the overstuffed chair by his computer. He looked tired, with dark circles below his eyes, and he was dressed in all black, including his gloves.

It was the gloves that tipped him off that Cory wasn't entirely with him. Whatever was inside Cory wouldn't have bothered with the gloves. It couldn't have been whatever Cory was now; the lack of invitation would have stopped it. Cory himself, however, would always be more than welcome. “Can you speak?” Luke asked.

"I'm not dead,” Cory said.

Luke felt less relief than the words should have given him. “Then how are you here?"

"I don't know. It lets me sleep, and when I sleep, I come here."

Luke came around him. His fingers felt real in Luke's, even though he was just touching the glove. “But I can touch you."

"You're asleep,” Cory told him.

"I am?” Luke asked.

Cory stood. “You are."

"You love me,” Luke said. “I think you've always loved me."

"I've always loved you,” Cory said.

"And that was what you were hiding from me, all this time."

"I knew Lathe would find me. I didn't think he'd take that long, but he did. And when he found me ... I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk you."

"You should have told me. I could have—"

"What? Protected me? You had no idea how strong he was. Is. How strong he still is. If he hadn't tapped the vortex, thinking he could have controlled it, I'd be dead by now. And you? You'd still be alive,” Cory said. He sounded tired, tired enough that the unintentional bite was back in his voice."Do we have to fight over this? Wouldn't you rather...” Luke didn't finish, and Cory didn't answer.

Cory looked away first. “We don't have fight. Not anymore."

Luke waited, but that was all that was coming. “I want to kiss you."

"I want you to kiss me."

"And I don't want to argue anymore."

Cory looked up again. He smiled. “Me neither. Except ... maybe..."

Luke sighed. “What?"

"Maybe we could do more than just kiss."

Luke took his hands, pulling him up. If this was a dream, things felt real enough.

"And isn't that enough?” Cory asked.

"For now,” Luke said.

Cory smiled. Luke dropped to his knees and took Cory's hand. “What are you—” Cory began, then shut his mouth. Luke began to tug the glove off with his teeth, but Cory tried to pull his hand back. “Don't."

"Gotcha,” Luke said. He parted Cory's fingers by rubbing the palm of his hand and took the middle finger, glove and all, down his throat. Cory put two fingers together, sliding them into Luke's mouth, and Luke held his wrist still, being very careful about his teeth.

"Luke,” Cory whispered, his voice breaking over the single syllable. “I can't ... I mean..."

"You're not going to say it?” Luke smiled, pulling his head back.

"I'd rather you suck on my cock. Please. I'll take it out and everything."

"Will you, now?” Luke asked and leaned back on his heels. “Why don't you go ahead and do that, then?"

Cory bowed his head for a second in thanks and undid his jeans. He pulled them down to his thighs. “Tell me what to do."

Luke looked up. He'd be just as happy fucking, but there was a needy look to Cory's face. “Do you really want it that way?"

"Yes, please."

"Then ... put your hands behind your neck. You can lock your fingers together, if you think it would be easier."

Cory chewed on his bottom lip. He hesitated, but then latched his fingers behind him. “Better?” Luke asked.

"Much."

"Good. Stay that way."

Cory nodded. Luke ran his fingers down Cory's hips. His hard cock was tight against his belly. He kissed Cory's hip bone. Cory couldn't stop his hips from trying to thrust, so Luke held him still before he took him into his mouth.

"Yes,” Cory hissed.

Luke thought, briefly, of letting go and just letting Cory fuck the back of his throat, but that wasn't what Cory wanted. Instead, he forced Cory's legs even farther apart, his jeans pulled tight around his thighs about the best method of containment, and Cory relaxed completely. No pain; Cory didn't need that. He shivered. Luke had to sit up to get all of Cory's cock down his throat.

And then, in dream logic that made perfect sense at the time, Cory was in his bed. His wrists were manacled together, the blindfold firmly in place, and his hips were over a pile of