Dawn Endeavor 2: Hayashi's Hero

by Marie Harte

  None of the Circs really bothered him, come to think of it. They'd given him space to hang around Kisho. And offered him tidbits of Kisho's likes and dislikes, whether they knew it or not.

  Olivia had mentioned Kisho's love of white roses.

  Morgan overheard Jules and Fallon talking about Kisho's penchant for writing poetry and reading while the rest of them played cards or billiards.

  Tersch complained about Kisho's “stupid classical crap that any idiot with half a brain would find annoying.” Then he'd pointed to several of Kisho's CDs lying near the stereo, showing Kisho's taste for Vivaldi, Haydn, Mendelssohn, and Mozart.

  Ava, bless her, had run interference with Alicia, distracting the older woman by stirring up fights with Tersch and inventing computer problems Morgan knew she could have dealt with on her own. Leaving him more alone time with Kisho.

  All that, only to have his mate reject him in front of those he considered family.

  Morgan rubbed his chest, as if the metaphorical notion of a broken heart applied.

  One step forward last night, a huge step back today. Terrific. If that weren't disheartening enough, he'd found Delancey and Montaña. Another reason for him to no longer be of any need to Kisho or his friends.

  Morgan sighed. If he'd had his own beast, he'd be tearing through walls right now. Instead, he wanted to punch something. Or someone. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and stared at both monitors. One was mounted to the wall; the other was a portable television he'd brought with him.

  From here, he watched Delancey and Montaña party with whores and drug dealers. Two of Morgan's more trusted contacts followed the dealers, while his ace in the hole planted the listening devices that pegged Delancey's agenda for the next week.

  If Alicia wanted to tag the bastard, she'd need to move fast.

  Morgan thought about doing the guy himself, because from what he'd seen and heard, Delancey was responsible for a lot of bad stuff. He didn't know as much about Montaña, nor could Morgan figure out why Delancey's boss kept him around. From what he'd seen, Delancey did little more than fuck, drink, and do drugs. The weird shit he kept injecting gave him hard-ons and visions, not exactly what Morgan had expected.

  From what Alicia had described, the “wonder drug” Montaña was peddling turned users catatonic. Sure, they'd see things and relay the information. Then they'd go into seizures, lose consciousness, and eventually die. According to Morgan's insider, Delancey's drug was the new and improved version of the one Alicia wanted. Which meant she was in for a surprise, because it worked, and men would pay a helluva lot to get a psychic woody that wouldn't quit.

  The image made him chuckle, the first laugh he'd had all day.

  As quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished. Morgan stared at the small fox figurine he'd brought with him, unable to bear parting from it.

  His cell phone rang, but he ignored it. Alicia again, by the ringtone, pestering him to come home, no doubt. He didn't need her lectures, or her “I told you sos.” Yeah, so she'd told him to go slow with Kisho. But who could blame him for not being able to resist such a gorgeous, thoughtful, sensitive soul? So what that he and his lover didn't know each other that well? They had a connection, a psychic link that went far beyond the physical. And that was to say nothing of the fireworks that shot between them body to body.

  Morgan grimaced at the hard-on that continued to bother him at thoughts of his stubborn lover. How the hell could Kisho be so smart, so sophisticated in his tastes, and not want him?

  “Shit. Women throw themselves at me. Men line up to get fucked. And my little fox pretends we're nothing?” Morgan swore under his breath again and planned all the devious ways he'd take his bad mood out on his lover's hide.

  A hard butt fuck, some chains, a flogger. Maybe a ball gag and some leathers thrown into the mix, especially considering what he knew about Kisho's liking for pleasured pain.

  Morgan stretched and yawned, then glanced at the clock. No wonder he was tired. He'd been on the go for twenty-four hours, unable to sleep after bonding to Kisho. Bonding, is that what we really did? Depression hit him hard, and he knew he needed to recharge. If anything unexpected happened, his sources would call. He had a special ringtone for his inside man, as well as his trusted contacts on the water. And with Delancey's boat only a few miles off the coast, its location tracked by a device affixed to the ship's voyage data recorder, it wouldn't take much to catch him.

  Morgan stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed. His dreams, as he'd expected, revolved around Kisho.

  Hours later, he wakened to movement in the room. Pretending sleep, he waited until he felt his intruder close. Then he sprang. Out of bed, he knocked into a large body, and they both fell to the floor. They wrestled around until the scent of cinnamon filled the air. He froze.

  “Kisho?”

  “Yeah, let go of my throat,” Kisho wheezed and tugged at Morgan's forearm.

  Morgan released him and rolled again, so that Kisho lay beneath him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked more harshly than he'd intended.

  “Mrs. Sharpe was worried you'd do something stupid.”

  Shoving off him and leaping to his feet, Morgan swore. He ran a hand through his hair and blinked when the lights suddenly blinded him.

  Kisho took advantage and knocked him to the bed, where the Circ straddled him and pinned his hands above him. “Sorry, Morgan. I'm here to make sure you don't hurt yourself.” Morgan laughed, but he wasn't amused. “That's rich.”

  “He's not kidding,” a deeper voice added from the shadows. Julian Hawkins stepped forward, his hands on his hips, and shook his head. “I'm surprised at you, Morgan. You seemed a lot quicker the other day in the gym.”

  “Fuck off, Hawkins.” Morgan didn't like Hawkins invading his space with Kisho so near.

  “Nice setup.” Hawkins leaned in for a closer look at the monitors. “So you really have Delancey on camera, hmm? That cocksucker. And I don't mean that as a compliment.” Morgan would have laughed if he hadn't been so confused. “What's going on? Why are you here?”

  Hawkins exchanged a glance with Kisho. “Tell him, Kisho. Explain exactly why we're here. And don't be shy.” To Morgan's shock, Jules Hawkins started taking off his clothes.

  And then firm lips covered his, and Morgan lost all train of thought. His kitsu's mouth caressed, his tongue invaded, and heat blistered Morgan's control to nothing. Hunger took over, consuming him as his lover made slow, sweet love to his mouth. Everything but Kisho faded, and he arched up to rub his dick against the hard cock against him.

  “Mm, you taste so good,” Kisho murmured against his throat. Then he nipped and licked a spot of blood. As he did, he tightened his grip around Morgan's wrists, his strength a thing of beauty.

  Morgan gasped, the erotic pain so good.

  “Didn't think I'd say it, but that's sexy.” Hawkins stood to the side of the bed, naked, aroused, and changed. “Now tell him, Kisho. Before I seriously lose it. You've been driving the rest of us crazy with this damned extended heat. Yeah, it's you two, not Fallon and Olivia.” Kisho flushed and gave Morgan a quick kiss. In a movement too fast to track, Kisho and Hawkins switched places. The familiar scent of cinnamon was taken over by a musky vanilla.

  Unfamiliar yet sexy, Hawkins captivated with his huge body. He licked his fangs and rubbed his massive cock over Morgan's belly. “Nice abs,” he growled and leaned close to sniff at Morgan's neck. “Oh yeah. You smell like my Kisho.”

  “My Kisho,” Morgan automatically corrected.

  Hawkins opened his mouth and closed it over the pinprick at Morgan's throat. A raspy tongue licked before Hawkins lifted his head in puzzlement. “No more blood? No wound?'

  “I heal fast.” Morgan shifted and groaned when he rubbed against Jules. “Now would you get off? Kisho?”

  Morgan tried to look around Hawkins, but Jules moved with him. “Something we need to get straight, Morgan. Kisho says you belong to him. But he belongs to me
. If you want him, you have to prove it.”

  Morgan's heart raced. Kisho had admitted they belonged together? “Prove it how?” Hawkins smiled and released one of Morgan's wrists. He waited, as if daring Morgan to try to flee, but Morgan didn't move.

  Until Hawkins closed one large hand over his dick. Even through Morgan's underwear, he felt the heat of Hawkins's touch. “I fuck you into submission. And won't that be interesting to see, hmm?” Jules practically purred. “Kisho, come here and do your thing.” Morgan shook, hard, aching, and confused. He wanted Kisho, but his body responded to Hawkins. And he didn't like it.

  “It's okay, baby,” Kisho said. He moved around Hawkins and stroked Morgan's hair.

  Just hearing Kisho call him “baby” stilled his rebellion. Having his lover's hands on him helped calm his agitation as well. “Kitsu?”

  “Do it like you did before. Pull my energy so you get bigger.” Kisho licked his fangs and glanced at Jules on top of him. “The team alpha needs to dominate the team, Morgan. You take me, you take the rest of it.”

  Morgan understood, but he wasn't sure he could do it. Though his body responded, ever since he and Kisho had bonded, he hadn't been able to tolerate thoughts of anyone else sexually.

  “You want me to fuck him?”

  “No,” Kisho growled. “I need you to fuck him. Acceptance. By Jules. For me.”

  Hawkins ground over Morgan, rubbing his slick cock against Morgan's belly. His scent literally made Morgan's mouth water. “I'm doing the fucking. You two just do what I tell you, and this will work out just fine.”

  Morgan squirmed, and Jules tightened his grip.

  “That's nice,” he hissed. “You're making me really fucking hard, Morgan. So either grow a bit bigger, or I'm going to ream your fine ass the way it is. You said you heal fast, right?” Jules grinned down at him; then his smile faded. “You do want Kisho, right?”

  “Yes,” Morgan answered, not needing to think.

  “Good.” Jules's unease disappeared. “Now grow. I want to see this.” Morgan glanced at Kisho, saw his fox nod, and sighed. “Okay. Kiss me, Kisho. Open yourself.”

  Kisho knelt by his side and kissed him, the fall of his thick black hair draping over Morgan's chest like a silken blanket.

  In seconds, his lover's energy filled him, and he began to stretch. Like before, he grew taller, stronger, more dense. But his center remained the same. His heart belonged to his kitsu.

  “Shit. I didn't believe it. I mean, I did, but feeling and seeing him are two different things,” Jules rasped. He spread his knees on either side of Morgan's hips. “Hold on, Morgan. I need to take these off you.”

  Before Morgan could ask what he meant, Jules sliced through the sides of Morgan's underwear. Kisho removed them, and Jules lowered himself once more, his balls resting right over Morgan's.

  “Oh, damn. You feel good.” Jules turned to Kisho. “Come here.” When Kisho did, Jules kissed him. And to Morgan's astonishment, the scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and orange mixed. He grew harder and slicker, his newly changed body emitting pheromones and oils to facilitate sex.

  Jules's rock-solid body began moving over Morgan, sliding over his cock in ways that took Morgan's breath away.

  “Mmm,” Jules moaned and kissed Kisho's neck. “I want to see you fuck his mouth, Kisho.

  Come on. Let's bend him over and slake the lust. Let the need flow, and use it.”

  “Wait,” Morgan said on a breath as the pair of them tried to manage him. “Hold on. Jules, why don't you—”

  Jules growled and yanked Morgan up by his hair. “You don't order anyone around, not now. I'm in charge. You submit to me, the way your mate submits to me.” He shoved Morgan back to the bed and motioned for Kisho, who'd slid off the bed and stood on the floor, to come closer. When Kisho did, Jules kissed him hard and grabbed his dick, stroking with a hard, punishing grip.

  “Please, Morgan. I want…you…to…belong…to me.” Kisho panted as Jules pleasured him while studying Morgan.

  “Watch him come. All over my hand,” Jules ordered.

  In moments Kisho shot hard, his thick cum making the sexual energy around all three of them potent.

  “Fuck. That's so hot.” Morgan leaned close to Kisho and licked him clean, making his lover groan and squirm, still caught in Jules's hand. Morgan licked over that hand, and a sense of ease turned his vague hostility into a pleasurable need.

  “That's it. Suck his cum off. Get all of it.” Jules purred, the rumble reminiscent of Kisho's contentment.

  Kisho continued to stare down at him, his eyes wide, his breathing fast, as he combed his fingers through Morgan's hair. “So pretty. So mine.”

  Morgan nodded. He took Jules's finger in his mouth and sucked harder.

  “Nice,” Jules's murmured. “Oh yeah. I'm really hard right now. And I need to spend inside you. Right up that tight ass.”

  Kisho nodded, flushed and growing erect as he watched Morgan work Jules's finger.

  More than ready to come, Morgan slowly positioned himself at the edge of the bed and presented Jules with his ass. Kisho growled his assent, and before Morgan knew it, Jules slid inside him, filling him with a hot, thick cock.

  Kisho didn't leave them alone to watch. Instead, he stood close by, his hard dick in hand.

  Jules nudged Morgan forward, surging so deep, they both groaned. Then Morgan had Kisho's dick right in front of him. He opened wide and took that hard, thick shaft in his mouth.

  Sandwiched between the Circs, he nearly lost his mind when Jules grew larger inside him.

  He swallowed another mouthful of Kisho's seed, the sex and belonging forging stronger ties than he could have imagined.

  Jules groaned and shuddered, and Morgan felt a rush of hot liquid sliding down his ass and thighs. The scent of Jules seeped into him, tying him to the larger male on a level beyond the physical. The bond snapped him in place, finally allowing Morgan fully into Kisho's world.

  Thrilled to have overcome yet another obstacle keeping him from his lover, Morgan grew even more excited.

  His groin throbbed, his cock hard and aching, and still without relief.

  “Stay there,” Kisho growled. “Don't move.”

  Morgan wanted to argue, to show his mate who was in charge, but Jules started moving again. Except this time, the bastard hit that sweet spot inside him, and he groaned.

  “Up,” Jules urged, and pulled Morgan upright, off his hands. They knelt together, still joined, but at an awkward angle. Yet now Kisho could access Morgan's erection. And access it he did. While Jules continued to pump inside him, Kisho took Morgan to the back of his throat.

  The dual sensation of taking and being taken washed over him in a huge wave of pleasure.

  Morgan shouted and came hard. He literally throbbed as he exploded, jetting into Kisho's mouth.

  Jules scratched his hips and stilled, coming as well.

  The scent of Circ seed and man and pheromones filled the air. But nothing could mask the overwhelming rightness Morgan experienced, the intense belonging to something more.

  “Oh man, you two are lethal,” Jules said with a moan and withdrew from Morgan's body.

  “I have the room next door. The one you thought you rented,” he said to Morgan. “Why don't you two use it while I clean up and keep an eye on Delancey.”

  “You don't need to watch them.” Morgan coughed to clear the hoarseness from his voice.

  “I have informants on speed dial, watching up close.”

  “Good. Don't want to lose the fucker before I personally watch the life leave his eyes.” Jules in a mad was scary. But Morgan didn't have time to worry. Kisho lifted him in his arms, and Morgan realized he'd shrunk back into his normal six-four frame.

  “I've got you, mate,” Kisho whispered and kissed him. The most perfect, if surreal, moment of his life.

  Morgan hadn't been carried in anyone's arms like this since he was a small child.

  They walked through the adjoining door into the r
oom that Morgan had paid for to ensure it remained empty. Two large duffel bags sat on the floor beside the king-size bed. Trust Jules to flout security.

  Kisho walked him into the large bathroom. “Glad you paid for the nicer rooms. The shower's still going to be tight but manageable.” He set Morgan down on his feet and started the shower. As he did so, he changed back into his man's form. “Wait. I'll be right back.” Morgan leaned against the wall, worn out, but too stunned by tonight's events to know what to say.

  Kisho returned after a moment, and they both entered the shower. Kisho wouldn't let him lift a finger. He washed him, dried him, and then led him back out to the large bed. Kisho joined him in bed, and they lay on their sides, studying each other.

  The quiet words Kisho spoke, as much as the loving expression on his face, transfixed him.

  “When I was two, my mother died. The loving daughter of a tyrant simply faded away, lost because she'd been forbidden my father, the man she loved.” Morgan didn't speak, his heart breaking all over again for Kisho's loss.

  “I never understood why my grandfather hated me so much. It wasn't until a few years later, when he kicked me out of the house because I was a 'half-breed bastard,' that I knew. I was five and had no place to go.”

  “Five?” Morgan stared, stunned. “So young.”

  “My grandmother tried to help. She found a shelter for me when friends refused to help, scared of my grandfather. And she helped me to understand that at least my mother had loved me. To be honest, I never expected to know my father. No one talked about him. Then one day, he was just there. He found me living on the streets. I was sixteen when he brought me home to America.”

  “Shit, Kisho. How did you live? What did you do?”