“You’re sick. I’m trying to take care of you.”
Those dark eyes, such a deep and intense shade of brown they were practically black, briefly rolled up into the back of James’s head. “Don’t need…don’t need it.”
Taylor wet the cloth in the bowl he’d found. The water was clean, that much was a plus, though it would have been better if there was an actual bed to put him in, instead of just the old sheets and pieces of James’s ninja gear, or whatever it was, to keep him warm.
“You definitely do.” Taylor put the cloth over James’s forehead. The water was room temperature, but it was nice and cold in comparison to James’s body heat. “You’re lucky I’m nice. You’d better not kill me when I’m done with you either. You owe me for this.”
James mumbled, an incoherent noise that could have meant literally anything.
Taylor sighed. In truth, he hadn’t left because James had been injured while keeping Taylor safe.
Apparently there was a level of politics that went on even among the assassins who worked for slave-owning vampires. James had been powerful and sleek when he’d kidnapped Taylor out of his bed from the former vampire mansion.
Now, he was as helpless as a newborn kitten. The man who had tied Taylor’s hands together and forced him to walk until his feet bled, who made Taylor sleep on the cold, hard ground, and was meant to bring him back to the vampires so they could do…whatever it was they wanted to do to him was now at Taylor’s mercy.
The delicious irony of it was that Taylor hadn’t been the right target. James had been looking for Miles, the favorite of the head of the vampire household, Varrick, and the only other omega fox shifter in the entire house.
James was a talented kidnapper, a stealthy assassin and warrior, but when it came down to making sure he kidnapped the right omega, his skills left something to be desired.
“I should leave you behind to die out here, I really should,” Taylor said. He had yet to tell James what his real name was out of fear that the second James found out he had the wrong man, Taylor would be a dead man.
He still wasn’t sure if he should make that big reveal or not.
Sometimes there was just too much damned stress for him to properly focus.
“Why the hell did you have to save my life?” Taylor’s gaze scanned up and down the scarred expanse of James’s perfect chest.
His abdomen was the kind of thing a blind sculptor might want to touch and stroke, letting their fingers dip into each groove there to memorize them, replicate them with clay.
Taylor wished he knew how to draw or sculpt. Would it be weird if his kidnapper woke up to find Taylor sketching his body?
Probably a little weird. He was so glad that whatever the hell James was didn’t involve mind reading.
Taylor had thought wolf at first, alpha wolf, but there was something else in there he couldn’t pick up on. Something different.
It had been in James’s eyes when he’d fought against those goons who had set him up to fail in his mission.
James was sweating a little more and shivering. Taylor looked back at the tiny fire he’d managed to make. He wanted to keep it small so no light escaped the closed windows and so he wouldn’t burn down the rotting shack around him and James, but as it was now, it was barely a pile of red and orange embers.
Taylor put the wet cloth back into the water bowl. He ripped away some more rotted wood from the floor over in the corner, broke it apart into even smaller pieces, and then used them to coax those embers back into a real fire.
He returned to his task at hand, which mostly consisted of sitting above his kidnapper, watching him, washing away the sweat from his brow and body, and contemplating the many scars over his olive-colored skin.
His flesh would be perfect had it not been for those scars. Definitely alpha material, and the kind of thing Taylor liked to think about when he was alone in the shower.
Taylor crossed his legs, elbows on his knees, chin on his fists.
If this were a romance novel, or any kind of action and adventure story, James would wake up, realize what a shitty thing he’d been doing to Taylor, and maybe they would work together to help Taylor get back home since Taylor had no clue where the hell he was.
They might even end up in bed together. The hero always got the girl, after all.
Looking at James again, Taylor knew which one of them would be in the dominant position. In no way could Taylor picture himself dominating this guy right here, and he didn’t want to. Not his style. Taylor didn’t exactly have any experience with it, but he always pictured himself as the passive partner.
And why the hell was he thinking about this again?
Taylor blinked, his attention suddenly rushing to his dick. He looked between his legs, expecting to see the damned thing through his sweaty, dirty clothes.
Of course not. He didn’t have x-ray vision, but his cock was definitely twitching, and Taylor could make out a hint of an outline attempting to push through and make itself known.
In another thirty seconds Taylor was going to have a full-on tent down there.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taylor jumped to his feet. He needed to get away from James. Holy shit. James had kidnapped him, and Taylor was the gross and perverted one, getting hard while looking at the man’s chest and nipples.
No! He couldn’t think about that anymore! He wouldn’t.
Taylor exited the shack, pulling the three-legged stool away from the pathetic excuse for a door and stepping outside.
He found him, his little fox shifter, the one James had to give to someone else.
And he was beautiful as he slowly touched himself. One hand pushed through his auburn hair while his other hand leisurely pumped his cock.
In the moonlight, he shone like a creature of mythical proportions, a siren or a sprite. Some sort of ethereal creature whose sole purpose was to lure James to his death through lust.
And James went to him, as willingly as the fly to a seductive spider.
He sank to his knees before him, unable to stop. He wanted to stop. He knew how to control himself, but for some reason, that control he desired so much eluded him now, and he had no explanation for his actions as he allowed his hands to stroke up and down Miles’s naked thighs.
Miles moaned, his eyes still shut, his head thrown back. He was as lost in his own fantasy as James was to his.
James wet his lips, his gaze flicking down to the glistening drop of cum that formed at the head of Miles’s prick.
Miles swept it away quickly, using it as a lubricant as he began to hump into his fist, fucking into his hand.
“Oh God.” Miles sighed, and James wanted to hear that sigh again.
That was why he leaned in, letting his lips and tongue openly kiss the helmet-shaped head of Miles’s cock.
Miles shivered. He moaned and lifted his hand away from his dick, hands sliding across his chest and stomach.
Tweaking his nipples through the cotton nightshirt he wore.
So fucking sexy.
James sank his mouth down deeper, needing more of that taste, of that scent. He caught hints of both with his nose and his tongue. Especially his tongue.
James slid it around the base, using his hands to gently cup and tease Miles’s testicles.
They were tight, fitting perfectly in James’s hand while the man’s cock couldn’t have been a better fit.
He wanted to laugh, but it was almost like Cinderella’s foot to the glass slipper. That was the level of perfection he thought of when Miles fucked into his mouth.
Miles’s gasps became harder, more pronounced. James felt his own orgasm so close. So very close that it was painful. He found himself thrusting helplessly against the air, desperate for friction as the blood flow, so hot and wonderful, and yet so uncomfortable, became almost unbearable.
He wanted to fuck this man, this omega fox shifter, who was the favorite pleasure slave of James’s master. James wanted to be inside him, to claim him for himself.
He would never have these thoughts if his mind weren’t so scrambled from the heat.
The unbearable heat…
Miles moaned, a long and loud noise that signaled the end. James tasted the bitter flavor of his cum before Miles finished shuddering, his body bucking, the heat of him increasing with every movement, every thrust of his hips, and every back and forth push and pull of his dick in James’s mouth.
James had never, ever, felt the sort of satisfaction when he swallowed someone else’s pleasure, that he felt right now.
It was almost beautiful in a way.
Until Miles opened his eyes, frowned down at him, and reality seemed to come back in a crushing way just as his softening cock slipped out of James’s lips.
“You…oh God, what are you—”
“No words. Come here.”
Miles let out a sharp cry as James grabbed him around the waist, pulling the omega down onto the ground with him, grabbing the elastic waist of those sleeping pants and pulling them the rest of the way off Miles’s legs.
He couldn’t question this. He would think about his actions later when he wasn’t dying from the heat that pulsed through his veins and his cock.
The throbbing was unbearable. Being inside this omega would help him. Claiming Miles for himself would be the cure.
“You’re still sick! You should be in bed!”
“No.” James slammed his mouth down onto Miles’s, kissing the omega hard, tasting those lips that had just been gasping with pleasure.
He thrust his tongue forward, parting those lips, licking deep and tasting the flavor of Miles’s tongue this time.
He also forced Miles to taste himself, the pleasure he’d just spilled onto James’s tongue.
Too good. It was almost too good, especially when Miles moaned against his mouth.
James was no longer cold. Now it was just the heat. Only the heat, nothing else.
He would need something if he was going to take the man, but fuck, he had nothing.
Saliva would have to do. Miles was a pleasure slave. Surely he was used to that.
“I’m going to fuck you,” James said. It was only fair that he let the man know.