Blacque-Bleu

by Belinda McBride

Blacque pocketed the keys and closed the door to the upholstery shop behind him. He wasn’t completely comfortable leaving Bleu behind, but he wanted to shower the scent of the other man from his body. He needed to dress and eat and move on with his day.

  He’d found a pair of work pants and a shirt among Bleu’s neatly stored clothing and carried them to his shop, where he cranked up the shower. He had coveralls on hand but didn’t want to put on grease after cleaning himself.

  Hot water pelted over his head and shoulders, and as he soaped himself, Blacque fingered the piercings that Bleu had been so fascinated with. He couldn’t resist a bitter smile. He’d gotten the tats and piercings out of fierce sexual longing, and now they would forever serve as a reminder of the brief hours he’d allowed himself with Bleu. They were only hours into their tryst, and he was already regretting…already missing what hadn’t yet ended.

  Touch. Werewolves thrived on touch. In fact, in the world outside of pack life, they had to remember that this wasn’t a touching culture. Physical contact didn’t always lead to sex, but it was as necessary to their comfort as food or rest. Blacque had held others away for so long, he was now uncomfortable with what he craved. That deep, aching need had fled under the attentions of Bleu. Even as he’d rejected the physical closeness while they slept, Blacque had awakened to find himself pressed against the vampire, arms and legs tangled with his.

  Perhaps this explosion of lust was little more than the hunger for touch. Perhaps a woman could serve that same need. Holding that thought close, he turned off the water and stepped out into the crudely cemented stall. The shower had originally been an emergency station for cleaning off toxic chemicals. He’d converted it to an actual shower back when he first bought the shop.

  Blacque grabbed the last clean towel and dried off, then stepped into the twill work pants that Bleu favored. He wasn’t surprised that they weren’t a perfect fit—Bleu was his height but more slender. The fabric was taut around his muscular thighs. The T-shirt hugged his chest and biceps. He caught the scent of detergent, but not of Bleu. He was pleased but also disappointed. He wanted to wrap himself in the other man’s scent yet at the same time needed distance to clear his mind.

  After gathering up the soiled clothing and towels, he dumped them into the old washing machine. He added soap, then stood back and stared as steaming water filled the tub. Finally he looked up at the pinup-girl calendar on the wall. It was one of those sent out by a tire company. Like most auto shops, his walls were littered with them.

  She was blonde and buxom and the wrong month. Nevertheless Blacque stared, trying to imagine such a creature in his bed, warm and flushed, her skin soft and perfumed.

  Nothing.

  He changed the month and stared at the brunette who now smiled from the pages. He liked her body better. Her breasts weren’t as big, and her skin was as fair as porcelain. She smiled at him with vivid blue eyes that he suspected were Photoshopped to be that color.

  Bleu’s didn’t need enhancement—his eyes really were that blue.

  With that thought, Blacque’s dick began to harden and lengthen. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the piercings as his skin stretched and went taut. He clasped it through the fabric of his pants—Bleu’s pants—and got even harder. He imagined thrusting slowly into the tight warmth of the brunette’s body, but when he looked up, he saw the lean muscles of a man, a strong jawline, and cobalt blue eyes under arched black brows.

  He let his cock go and sighed. Blacque didn’t even know why he bothered to question it anymore.

  He needed to go home, shave, and eat. There was plenty to do to occupy himself for the day, though the hours would seem endless until sundown. The gutters needed to be cleaned, and he needed to paint the porch before winter. He tried to recall if the house laundry needed to be done. Then there was the grocery shopping…

  The washing machine finished its cycle and began to spin, spitting fresh water on the soapy clothing. He stayed right there until the machine ground to a halt, and then he moved the load over to the dryer, ignoring his empty belly as time passed in small, measured increments.

  Shit. This was going to be the longest day of his life.

  Chapter 5

  Bleu didn’t have to find the werewolf when he woke—Blacque was right there next to him, leaning against the wall and reading a book by the small light of the bedside lamp. Bleu noticed first that he was warm. Second, he noticed he was rested. He didn’t have the usual malaise that nearly kept him on his back upon waking. He felt surprisingly fresh—and not so surprisingly, hungry.

  “Hello,” Bleu whispered, aware that his fangs had emerged slightly.

  He looked up into that dark, inscrutable gaze, and his arousal was instantaneous. After rolling to his knees, he knocked the book to the side and pinned Blacque in place. The big werewolf was delightfully compliant. With his free hand, the wolf reached out and gently stroked the rough patch at the corner of Bleu’s mouth.

  “It looks better.”

  Bleu leaned back and ran his own finger over the old burns. In a sense, he’d been lucky. If he’d lived on, he’d have been horrifically scarred, both inside and out. As it stood, he’d lived through most of his second life without a trace of the damage the gas had wreaked on his body.

  He reached up and ran a hand over Blacque’s head. He’d shaved, leaving a black haze over his scalp.

  “Why do you keep it so short?”

  “Don’t like to wash the grease out of it at the end of the day.” Blacque sat unflinching under his scrutiny. He was such a contrast—tough, dangerous, and mature, but surprisingly innocent in his inexperience. During the long night, his kisses had been clumsy, his touch a bit awkward. Bleu straddled his lap, his erection pointing in the general vicinity of the other man’s navel. When Blacque’s hands lowered to his bare thighs, the arousal transformed into intent. He leaned forward, coming in for a kiss…

  “What do you dream about?” Blacque whispered.

  The question killed the mood. Bleu’s hands fell to his side, his head dropped. For a moment, he eyed his slowly wilting erection.

  “Vampires don’t dream.” He knew that to be true. The body slowed to a stop, and brain function all but ceased. Dreams were simply not possible. But then, vampires also didn’t suffer insomnia, and his long hours locked in a wakeful state during the day defied that rule as well.

  “Then why did your adrenaline spike? You smelled like fear and pain.” He continued to study Bleu’s averted face. “Your skin…you had these awful blisters. All over.”

  Bleu shivered. That was where the scarring was coming from. When the night terrors took him, they took him completely—mind, body, and spirit. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed the site where the mustard gas had settled on his face and mouth. He remembered holding his breath, his eyes streaming and burning. He remembered the shrieking, the insane burn as he gasped for breath, pulling it into his lungs. His eyes began to water in reaction, and he blinked quickly.

  “I don’t remember the dreams, but they’re probably memories of the trenches. The Germans started using gas toward the end of the war.” He sat back a little, letting his weight rest on Blacque’s thighs. “Just because the cloud went away didn’t mean the gas was gone. It’d settle in the mud. We’d wade around in it… The mud rose up to our thighs sometimes… We’d hit a pocket of gas. Or maybe a guy would take a leak, and it’d splash back onto him…”

  His shoulders drooped a bit. So many memories, yet they’d stayed hidden and quiet for so long. Why had they returned? He covered his eyes with one hand, hiding the wave of despair that washed over him.

  “What else is happening to you?”

  “I can’t sleep. I lie here all day sometimes. Can’t move. All I can do is wait. Sometimes listen to the world outside.” He smiled up at Blacque. “Funny thing, though, I slept today. Like a baby.”

  “You dreamed.”

  “Maybe for a while. But then I slept afterward. Hours.” He arched hi
s back and stretched, hoping to divert Blacque’s attention. It worked. He watched the other man’s gaze travel the length of his body. “Better than I’ve slept in years.” He had the sneaking suspicion the werewolf under him was responsible. Whether it had been sexual exhaustion, the wolf’s rich blood, or the warm presence in his bed, Bleu had slept in peace.

  He’d be damned if he’d quietly take only a weekend. Literally and figuratively. He leaned forward and brushed his lips along Blacque’s jaw. The big man had showered and shaved not so long ago. He nuzzled, feeling the drag of his lips along the wolf’s smooth skin. He nipped and pulled slightly, sucking just enough to leave a small mark. He smiled against Blacque’s throat when the wolf’s big body flexed and the fragrance of his arousal filled the air. Blacque was so needy, so lonely. He was ripe for the plucking.

  “You’re wearing my clothes.” And they looked damn good on him too. His biceps bulged, stretching the fabric to the limit. The bars through his nipples were clearly delineated.

  “Had to wash mine. Needed to find something to wear.” His cheeks went dark with blood, and Bleu remembered their messy, out-of-control sex at the Roadhouse. It was a bit embarrassing to have spilled in his pants like a schoolboy. On the other hand, it was probably the most memorable sex he’d had in…well…ever.

  “I washed yours too.”

  He smiled at the confession. “Thank you.” He settled a deceptively gentle kiss on Blacque’s firm lips. He let his fangs play over the tender skin of his mouth, threatening to draw blood. Under him, the wolf’s belly undulated from his heavy breathing, and his cock tightly filled the front of the twill pants that he wore. Bleu leaned down and nipped at the golden bars under the tight knit of the tee shirt.

  “Why did you pierce yourself, Blacque?” He reached down and pulled the tight shirt free from the waistband of his pants. After pulling it up, he ran his thumbs over the golden bars.

  “Don’t really know,” Blacque whispered. His voice was low and husky with arousal. “Just…nobody else was touching me there. Needed to remember I was a man, I guess.”

  “What happens to them when you shift?” He ran his tongue over the tan ovals of the wolf’s nipples, letting the gold clink against his fangs. He was hungry, so needful, yet the seduction was so rewarding.

  “Guess they stay put. I’ve never really checked.” His hand came up tentatively and wrapped around the back of Bleu’s neck. “Never thought… It feels so fuckin’ good!” His hips bucked up, and he held Bleu in place over his chest. Obligingly Bleu teased first one nipple and then the other. Blacque’s free hand came up and roamed his back, then slowly dropped to cup his ass.

  “That’s good, Blacque. Touch me any way you want.”

  That gave the wolf courage, and he explored, his fingers sliding into the crack of Bleu’s ass. Bleu had to pause a moment to let the sensation sweep through his body.

  Two nights. He had two nights to capture the shy wolf and to somehow find an answer to the dilemma that the alpha had dumped on his son. Bleu suspected the wolf would take his duty to pack and family very seriously. And the were would not relish the idea of being the main food source for an ailing vampire. He was amazed the werewolf had voluntarily given up his blood in the first place.

  “There’s lube inside the drawer there.” The other man gave him a long look and then reached over and pulled the drawer of the cheap little table open. “Condoms too.”

  The wolf followed his instructions carefully. He set the items to the side. Bleu unbuckled the slender belt that cinched Blacque’s pants, amused at the difference in the fit. Blacque was lean and muscular; his belly was ridged with muscle. He filled out Bleu’s pants like a dream. Carefully he unbuttoned the trousers and lowered them, smiling to see his wolf hadn’t bothered with underclothes. When Blacque’s cock rose into view, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  The Prince Albert would drag through his passage, and Bleu’s ass tightened with nervous anticipation. He reached down and lifted Blacque’s testicles, then fingered the piercings that studded his scrotum. Heavy golden hoops dangled from the velvety skin, winking in the dim light. Three bars laddered from the base of his cock.

  “You’re going to wear a condom. I’m not sure if these will pull on you during sex.”

  Blacque’s cock jumped, and he swallowed. A tiny bead of fluid welled from the slit on his cockhead.

  “I thought…I thought…”

  “You thought I’d take you?”

  Blacque nodded.

  “Is that what you want?” The wolf just stared at him. He didn’t know what he wanted. Bleu smiled and stroked his muscled belly. “I figure the best way to teach you is for me to take you this way. You’ll know what to expect.” He traced his fingers down to brush over the other man’s cock. He gently massaged his perineum and then trailed his fingers back farther.

  “Take some lube on your fingers. Start working it into my ass. Gently!”

  Blacque gave a short, surprised laugh.

  “It’s not like porn.” He flinched when Blacque’s slick fingers glided into his crack. “At least, it isn’t yet.” God. It had been years since he’d given someone his ass. He’d given men his mouth or hand, his cock when they wanted to fuck, but Bleu rarely bottomed. A rough, blunt finger pressed and retreated, returning seconds later with a fresh load of lube. In the past, he’d noticed wolves were possessive as hell. Once Blacque took his body, his primal self wouldn’t want to let go of Bleu.

  He moaned at the sensation of Blacque’s hands on his body. Clearly seduction was a two-edged sword.

  “That’s it. Don’t force your way in.” He relaxed, taking a deep breath as Blacque’s finger pushed through the tight ring of muscle. “If you clench, it hurts. If you push out, that makes it easier.”

  Blacque changed position a bit, and then a warm hand covered Bleu’s balls even as the man’s finger worked its way in and out. Bleu shivered at the sensation. “Good. Add a finger. Don’t scissor. That’s not safe.” Within moments, he was being steadily finger-fucked. Glancing up at the wolf, he saw that his face was intent on his task. His cock had gone to half-mast. When Blacque brushed a finger over his prostate, he jumped.

  “You okay?” Worry throbbed through Blacque’s voice.

  “Yes…do that again.” He did, and Bleu groaned in pleasure. “Sweet spot. Use a light touch.” As Blacque fingered his ass, Bleu buried his face in his chest and trailed his tongue up the jet-black tattoos that climbed his skin.

  “You have a taste for pain, don’t you, Blacque?” Those tattoos had to have been painful, and the piercings were clearly sexual in nature. It was a strangely kinky form of self-medication. Judging by the night before, the wolf could take it as rough as Bleu could deliver. That made him shiver.

  The fingers withdrew, and before he answered, the wolf returned with a third lubed finger. His thrusts were shallow now.

  “I didn’t know it would be so tight.” He didn’t answer Bleu’s question.

  Bleu rocked back, seeking deeper penetration.

  “I’ll tell you about the tats…sometime.”

  Bleu’s skin heated in warning. It was time to move on. “Stop now.” He lifted from the wolf’s body, and the fingers fell away. He rose high onto his knees and reached for the condom, then quickly tore it open. Blacque’s gaze went hot and feral as Bleu smoothed the sheath over the wolf’s cock. Next, he layered on a thick coating of lube. The piercings felt bumpy under the thin latex, so he added more.

  “Just lie back. Let me drive.” He moved into position, arrowing the tip of Blacque’s dick into his ass. With a deep breath, he began to lower himself, an inch at a time. The lube soothed the burn, and goose bumps roughened his skin. Three fingers hadn’t prepared him for the wolf’s fat cock. Nor had they prepared him for the piercings; they caught on the edge of his sphincter, making him hiss at the foreign sensation.

  Blacque cried out, and his hips thrust upward, pushing in faster than Bleu expected. One thrust…two…an
d he’d gone as far as he could go. Both men panted as they paused, taking a moment. Blacque’s face was flushed, and sweat beaded his chest and trunk. With a groan, Bleu lifted his hips and began to move, riding the wolf slowly…deeply.

  With his mouth open slightly, Blacque panted, his eyes wild. “I can’t…I can’t go long.”

  “That’s okay, Lukas. We’ve got all night.” If he was right, his partner would most likely have an impressive recovery time. He had a lot of years to make up for. Bleu ground down harder onto the other man’s cock, grinning when a grip of iron came down on his hips, urging him to move faster.

  Bleu had softened with the penetration. He reached down and tugged at his cock, jerking himself back to erection. A hand pushed his away, and Blacque’s was there, stroking and pulling, then tugging his aching balls away from his body.

  “I need to move, Bleu.” Blacque’s voice was breathless, as though he’d been punched in the gut. “Need to fuck you…”

  Reluctantly Bleu rose and felt Blacque’s cock slide from his body. He rolled onto his back next to the other man, legs parted and knees spread wide. Blacque wasted no time; he was on his knees and pushing his way back into Bleu’s hole. This time the piercings were sheer, wicked pleasure.

  Now Bleu was the one trapped. It wasn’t a feeling he cherished, but it gave him the luxury of watching the wolf above him, seeing the flashes of need and lust flicker over his harsh features. Blacque let his eyes fall closed as he thrust deeply into Bleu’s ass. He remained on his knees for several strokes and then moved lower, fucking him in missionary position. Bleu reached around and ran his hands up and down Blacque’s back, then squeezed his ass to prompt him to move faster.

  He turned his head, tucking his face into the wolf’s throat, scenting…almost tasting the blood that pumped under his skin.

  “Take it.” Blacque sounded dangerously close to his limit. “Take what you need.”

  Bleu bared his teeth, found his spot, and bit hard, trusting the haze of sex to dull the pain for his partner. He wrapped his lips over the wounds and let the hot flow of blood pulse into his mouth.