“I think you liked it.” Qhuinn licked his way up the side of Blay’s throat. “Tell me you liked it.”
By way of reply, Blay flexed his spine and drove his ass right into the other male’s erection. The resulting groan made Blay beam.
“Sounds like you were into it,” Blay murmured.
“Fuck, yeah, I was.”
The night before they’d both been off rotation, and after a workout in the gym and a pool game against Lassiter and Beth—which they’d lost—Blay had suggested they hit the Iron Mask for a very specific reason.
As Blay remembered what had transpired after they’d gone back there, Qhuinn’s cock got into places where it was very much welcome…and Blay once again gave himself up to the delicious penetration and the slow, riding rhythm his mate established.
The things that he recalled from the club just made everything hotter: The pair of them had gone over and sat at the bar and had a couple of drinks, Herradura for Qhuinn, and a couple of G&Ts for Blay. And then Qhuinn had gotten that look in his eye.
And Blay had gotten down to business.
He’d led the male back to one of the bathrooms, and as they’d gone inside together, it had been a fantasy come to life, the kissing, the hands in the pants, the frantic get-naked from the waist down….
A moan came out of Blay’s mouth as what was happening, and what had happened, mixed, the erotic cocktail taking him to the brink of an orgasm—and then, thanks to Qhuinn’s grip pumping him off, right over the edge, his cock coming hard into his lover’s hand, his body jerking and sending Qhuinn into a release as well….
After a period of recovery, and a very satisfying round two, Qhuinn drawled, “Any chance you were thinking about that bathroom?”
“Maybe.”
“We can do that any night, if you like.”
Blay chuckled. “Well, I guess we’re free again this evening, so…”
The Brotherhood had been ordered to stay in, and as there had been no explanation in Tohr’s text, Blay figured it had to be a meeting with the king. The Band of Bastards and the glymera had been quiet for two weeks—no e-mails, no troop movements downtown, no phone calls. Never a good sign.
Probably an update or a strategy session about that Council member’s death and its implications. Although Blay really couldn’t see any downside to Assail’s having killed the dumb son of a bitch.
Bye-bye, Elan. P.S., Next time you implicate someone falsely, try to pick a pacifist.
The prospect of a meeting made him think about Qhuinn’s integration into the Brotherhood—which had been seamless, as it turned out. The fighter’s behavior was no different, his attitude just the same. And that was one more reason to love the guy. Even with the elevated status he’d been given, he hadn’t let shit go to his head.
And that teardrop tattoo that had been changed to purple on his face? Totally hot. Just like that new star-shaped scar on his pectoral.
“We’re defo going to be doing that again,” Qhuinn said as he slowly retracted himself and rolled over on his back. Putting his arms above his head, he smiled and stretched, the far-off light from the bathroom illuminating things just enough so that Blay could make out the lift to those incredible lips. “That was fucking hot. You are totally fucking hot.”
“What can I say, it’s been a fantasy of mine for a long time.” As Qhuinn got serious, Blay touched the male’s frown. “Hey. Stop that. Fresh slate, remember?”
After the night of the big reveal at the Mask, they’d had a number of long talks, and decided that they were going to take the relationship thing step by step, without making assumptions. They had been friends, then sort of enemies, then lovers of a kind…before they’d finally gotten their shit together. And just because they’d hung out for years, and they knew each other in a lot of ways, boyfriends was a different thing.
“Yeah. Fresh slate.” As Qhuinn leaned in for a kiss, Blay’s phone went off with a text.
Naturally, Qhuinn wasn’t interested in communications from the outside world, and continued to lick his way into Blay’s mouth, even as Blay reached out for the cell.
Blay had to hold it over Qhuinn’s heavy shoulders as the guy maneuvered on top, rubbing his still-hard cock on Blay’s—
“What the hell?” Blay said, breaking the lip contact.
“Have we been interrupted?”
“Yeah…Butch says he needs me in the Pit for a wardrobe consult?”
“Well, you do have perfect style.”
For some reason, the comment made him think of Saxton. As soon as Qhuinn and he had decided to make things legit, Blay had told the lawyer what was going on—and the gentlemale had been gracious beyond measure…and not at all surprised. He’d even said it was a kind of relief in a strange way, a sign that all was right in the world, even though it had sucked for him.
At least Blay had gotten his true love, he’d said.
Now, if only Saxton could find his.
“I’d better head over there,” he muttered. “Maybe it’s date night.”
As he went to get out of bed, Qhuinn’s hands locked on his hips and pulled him in for another long, lingering kiss.
When Qhuinn eased back, his eyes were half-closed. “Date night’s a great idea. You wanna go dancing with me sometime?”
“Dancing?” Blay laughed. “You would go dancing. With me.”
It was everything Qhuinn hated: kind of schmaltzy, lot of eyes on them, and, assuming they did it in public, they had to be fully clothed.
“If you wanted me to, I would in a heartbeat.”
Blay put his hand on the male’s face. Qhuinn was trying really hard, and Blay was more than willing to wait for the day when the guy was ready to be into the PDA. The Brotherhood and the household knew that they were together—it was kind of obvious after Qhuinn had moved his stuff into this room. But you didn’t spend a lifetime in denial and automatically feel comfy sucking face with your boyfriend in front of God and everyone else.
But he was trying. And he was talking—a lot—about his family and his brother, who was slowly, painfully trying to recover down in the clinic.
Behind closed doors, though? It was magic, without any barriers at all.
Exactly what Blay had always wanted.
“Are you going down to First Meal?” Blay asked as the shutters began to rise from the windows.
“Maybe I’ll just stay here and wait to eat you when you come back.”
Ah, yes, that naughty growl was in Qhuinn’s voice again, and didn’t that make Blay want to hop back in between the sheets.
“You are—” As a groan echoed up, Blay stopped in the process of heading into the bathroom. “Where is your hand?”
“Where do you think it is.” Qhuinn arched, one fang biting down on his lower lip.
Blay thought of the text that he didn’t intend to ignore. “You suck.”
“Yes, I do, don’t I.” Qhuinn licked his lips. “And you like me to.”
Blay cursed and marched into the bath. At this rate, he was never going to get out of their room….
And sure enough, one hot shower and a shave later, Qhuinn was still in bed, lounging like a lion, his black hair tousled from Blay’s hands, his half-lidded, mismatched eyes promising all kinds of pneumatics when Blay returned.
Horny motherfucker.
“You’re just going to lie there?” Blay chided from over at the exit.
“Oh, I don’t know…might get some exercise in while you’re gone.” A hiss was followed by another one of those groans—and what do you know, under the sheets and duvet, the up-and-down motion of his arm made Blay remember all kinds of messy, sweaty, marvelous things. “Working out is so important, you know.”
Blay gritted his molars and wrenched the door open. “I’ll be back.”
“Take your time. Anticipation just makes me harder.”
“Yeah, like you need help with that.”
Shutting things firmly, he rearranged himself in his loose nylon track pants and cursed again. Butch had better have a good fucking reason for needing Blay’s opinion.
And a problem that could be solved quickly.