[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Paranormal, Supernatural, Fantasy, Shifter, Gay/Alternative, Contemporary, MM, HEA]
Mike Sweeney is apparently pregnant. His dragon lover knocked him up, and then bit him as a warning to other dragons who might want to use Mike's new energy for themselves.
He's not happy, and Tristan can tell.
Tristan never meant to get his mate pregnant. Or bite him. The instinct took over, and now he doesn't trust himself to be anywhere near his mate in such a delicate condition. But for Mike, there’s only so many days a man can be ignored by his mate before he starts going crazy. If their relationship is to survive, then Mike needs to get it through his stubborn mate's head once and for all that he is not fragile, and he won't break just because Tristan's dragon came out to play
Even a dragon can be self-conscious, but this human will pull out all the stops to make sure a little misunderstanding doesn't get in the way of his happily ever after.
Marcy Jacks is a Siren-exclusive author.
Tristan yanked his mouth back, thankfully taking nothing with him, but he woke up from… whatever the hell that was, to see Mike scrambling away from him, holding his hand to his throat, his bloody throat, and looking at Tristan as though he’d just lost his mind.
Tristan suddenly tasted what was in his mouth.
They looked at each other.
Mike collapsed onto the floor.
* * * *
He didn’t faint. No way was Mike going with that story. His legs just lost some of their strength, so it was a totally different scenario.
He didn’t faint.
Not that Tristan seemed to notice as the guy flew into a panic the likes of which Mike had never seen on him before. He didn’t know it was possible for a dragon to panic like that. It was strange to look at, kind of scary, and he liked it even less than he liked being bitten without warning.
Which was saying something.
“I got it. I’m getting an ambulance here.”
“An ambulance?” The mention of one made Mike feel even less confident about what was going to happen.
Really? Did he really need an ambulance?
His throat was bleeding and that freaked him out, but he wasn’t gushing anything and he felt like he could still walk around and do stuff. His head wasn’t light, and with a quick test of his legs, he could stand.
That had to be a good sign. It meant he wasn’t about to pass out from blood loss, right?
Still, much as he hated hospitals, with the panic attack Tristan was having as he got his phone out and began yelling for a paramedic to come to their address right now, it might be a good idea.
Mike still didn’t know what just happened to him, and he didn’t want to take any risks.
Especially with his throat.
“Why did you bite me?” he asked.
He shouldn’t have bothered. Obviously Tristan was a little preoccupied with making sure the paramedics had the right address.
But Tristan was apparently having some trouble because eventually he roared, throwing his phone all the way across the room where it shattered on the far wall.
Mike jumped. Tristan approached him and swooped him up into those strong arms. Mike could see his wings unfolding from the skin at his back.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll get you to a hospital.”
“Wait, can I get dressed first? Tristan!”
Mike should probably stop yelling at the guy. For all he knew this was just making things worse, but he couldn’t help it. He was naked with the exception of his socks and Tristan was running out onto the balcony with him, spreading his wings and jumping over the ledge of one of the tallest condo buildings in the city.
Mike, still not entirely used to flying with Tristan, screamed like a girl on the way down, his stomach flying up into his throat. It plummeted back down to his pelvis area when Tristan angled his wings and caught a current of wind.
“This is worse than the bite! I hate this more than the bite!” Mike screamed, anything to make this asshole see that this wasn’t the emergency he thought it was.
Tristan was lost to him, though. It seemed no matter what Mike said or did, the other man was determined to ignore him, staying in his own paranoid head as he flew them to the nearest hospital.
Even though Tristan hated flying around like this, he had to admit that it was a much easier flight than he thought it would be, considering he had a hole in his throat. They were there in no time, another benefit of flying right over traffic.
Still, it meant they were landing in front of the doors, rushing inside, and Mike was still in his birthday suit as Tristan ran right up to the front desk and demanded to see a doctor.
It turned out that bleeding from the throat and being in the arms of a wealthy dragon was a great way to get served immediately.
Mike felt bad for the people already waiting to see a doctor. He still felt fine, which was good, so it almost felt as though he was cutting in line.
At this point, it didn’t matter because he was given a paper gown, which was a sweet relief. Anything to hide his dick was amazing.
Despite the money most dragons had, and their immense strength, it seemed even that wasn’t enough to get Tristan access to the back rooms where Mike would be seen to. Mike didn’t like that. He wanted Tristan there with him, but as he was wheeled away in his chair, even he had to admit Tristan needed a minute to relax himself.
The guy looked like he was going to have a heart attack.
“I’ll see you soon,” Mike called just before he rounded the corner with the nursing staff.
Tristan arched his back, gasping for breath at the sudden heat around his cock.
He kind of thought Mike would want to tease him a little more, would want to make him lose his marbles and beg him before doing anything else. Sometimes his mate did that. Other times he got right to the point.
This seemed to be one of those times.
Which meant Tristan’s lessons in patience weren’t quite paying off.
That was fine. A part of him wanted to get this going anyway, and he loved sliding his fingers through Mike’s hair, watching as the other man looked up at him, his cheeks hallow, even as he tried not to smile around what he was doing.
“You’re so beautiful like that,” Tristan said, hissing his pleasure as Mike sank down, down, down. Normally, he had trouble with this part. Not that Tristan minded. Mike usually used his hands to stroke what his mouth couldn’t reach, but it was almost as if…
“Were you practicing or something?”
Mike winked up at him, and Tristan thought he was going to implode as those lips took him all the way to the hilt. Tristan could feel the tip of his cock gently touching the back of Mike’s throat. That had never happened before. Mike always pulled back. He’d never been able to take it quite this far, so he’d been using something.
And now Tristan was going insane trying to think of what it was Mike could have been using to practice on.
His mind flew around between all the obvious things, certain vegetables or even a sex toy somewhere. Not that his brain could hold onto those thoughts for long as Mike took Tristan’s balls in hand and gave them a glorious squeeze.
Tristan might have grabbed onto Mike’s hair a little tighter than he’d meant to. He wasn’t trying to yank the guy’s hair out or anything, but the rough groan Mike released was enough of a sign that Tristan had to let up a little.
“Fuck, sorry, sorry,” he said.
Oh God, he couldn’t take much more of this. He tried to reach down, but Mike pulled his mouth away—which was even worse—and glared at him.
“Not until I say so.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tristan was going to erupt here, and Mike was looking at him like he was holding onto the keys to the kingdom.
Mike grinned at him, looking a little too much like a Bond villain for Tristan’s liking.
“Look at you, always talking shit to me about being patient, meanwhile you can’t even hold yourself together.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
“No you don’t, you love me,” Mike said, his hands tight around the base of Tristan’s cock, but his right hand slowly began stroking up and down the shaft, making Tristan spasm and jerk.
Putty in his hands.
“If you want me to beg, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t expect you to beg, Mr. Bond,” he said in a sudden British accent. “I expect you to die.”
Tristan frowned, but then he understood. “Sometimes I forget you can get in my head, too.”
“What?” Mike grinned. “You dick, were you thinking I looked like a Bond villain?”
“Only because you have my dick in your hands and you’re not letting me come. You know blue balls isn’t actually good for you, right?”
“Citation needed, and either way, stop influencing my thoughts. I’m supposed to be tormenting you.”
“You are,” Tristan groaned. He had to grip onto the couch now because he felt his claws trying to come out. If he didn’t latch onto something, he was going to lose his mind.
Mike was enjoying this a little too much for Tristan’s liking, and he swore to himself he was going to get back at the other man the first chance he got when this was over.
He was pretty sure he was shooting those thoughts right into Mike’s brain, because the guy smiled wickedly at him as he got back to the task at hand, his perfect, plump lips sliding around the crown of Tristan’s dick before slipping down, down, down. He knew what was coming if he kept up with the torture, and he was doing it anyway.
The little shithead.
He was determined to hold just tight enough to the base of Tristan’s cock to keep him from coming so easily.
This was his punishment. Mike was determined to get back at him for all those times Tristan hadn’t given him the orgasm he wanted right away. And Tristan deserved every minute of it. This was what he got for tormenting poor, innocent Mike and making him suffer through Tristan’s cruel and unusual…
Tristan blinked and shook his head. He glared down at the man. “Will you stop that?”
Mike pulled back, looking a little too innocent for Tristan’s liking. “Stop what?”
Tristan damn near lost his mind.
He’d had enough. He reached for Mike, who laughed out loud when he was grabbed and thrown down.
No more getting the slip on him. Tristan’s arms had scales growing out of them as he pinned his mate, pulling his arms up and above his head, staring down at him as though he had a meal ready and waiting for him.
That meal happened to be grinning gleefully up at him.
“You little bastard,” Tristan said. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I know. Fun, right?”
“Yeah, fun, but now it’s your turn.”