by R Phoenix
“And I’m… Well, I guess I am gambling, because I’m willing to bet that the beautiful empath in the lap of the ogre would rather be anywhere but here!”
Gideon had to wonder how many times the man had been dropped on his head.
“Get out.” He wasn’t going to keep warning the guy, but manhandling members of the Organization could come with consequences if he wasn’t careful. Of course, letting this kind of scene continue meant he would have to deal with Leandro.
He’d take the Organization over the fae any day.
He wasn’t going to let this turn into an all-out brawl, though, and it was dangerously close to becoming just that. It was obvious Ackerman wasn’t going to just leave, and Gideon nodded to Darcy. She stalked closer, grabbing Ackerman’s left arm as Gideon grabbed his right.
“Let’s go.”
Ackerman didn’t fight them, strangely compliant.
It might’ve already been too late though. It was already a clusterfuck, complete with Kolt quietly trying to persuade Markant that none of it was true. If he hadn’t known better, Gideon wouldn’t have even known the incubus was lying his ass off to convince the pig that he was quite happy to be in his lap.
“Oh, spare me,” Ackerman cut in — evidently hearing the same thing. He tried to shake off their hands then, but Gideon and Darcy only held him more tightly. “Listen to me, Kolt,” he said gravely. “You say the fucking word, and I promise I will get you out of here. I know how.”
It had to be a bluff. People had tried to weasel the incubus away from Leandro before, and none had succeeded.
“Oh? I’d be curious to hear just how that is,” Leandro said mildly, closing the door to the back hallway behind him.
Gideon didn’t know how the fae always seemed to know when there was trouble with his slave, but it was uncanny. Useful, but creepy at the same time, especially considering Gideon knew there weren’t any cameras in the place. Some weird fae magic, maybe, but Leandro had never told him.
“Let’s say I’ve had a learning curve recently,” Ackerman offered, not in the slightest bit bothered by the sight of the fae, or his presence.
In fact, it seemed to bolster him a little more, which was an unusual reaction to Leandro. Humans were fucking stupid as hell.
“Kolt, I know you’re his slave,” he said, speaking mildly now, as if to a child instead of a clever incubus capable of winning games that were all too often stacked against him. “If you can trust me, I can change that, and I promise I will,” he added, once more speaking with sincere conviction to Kolt — who seemed practically dead inside these days, and who had been here as long as Gideon could remember.
“Fae can legally own slaves,” Gideon said as Leandro paused at his side. “It’s part of their culture.”
Which was just another way of saying that they wanted them, and that was that.
“But he’s no ordinary slave. Are you, Kolt?” Leandro offered his hand to the incubus, and even though Markant looked like he wanted to protest, he didn’t stop the slave from sliding from his lap.
Kolt only hesitated a moment, and his eyes went to Markant — not Ackerman, not Leandro, but Markant, as if he was genuinely upset. Gideon had to grudgingly give it to him. Kolt knew how to sell himself. Once up and out of Markant’s embrace, he gingerly took Leandro’s offered hand.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s your culture or your favorite grandma’s dying wish.” Ackerman’s voice rose with his anger. “It’s fucked up, and you all know it. Jesus Christ, you guys won’t even let him speak without your permission.”
“I can speak fine without their permission,” Kolt finally spoke up even as Leandro pulled him close against his side.
“Then tell me. Say the word, and you’re out of here,” Ackerman promised once more.
There was a pregnant pause as the offer hung in the air. Leandro didn’t seem bothered, Ackerman looked hopeful, and Kolt…
“I’m not going anywhere,” the incubus said, his fingers slowly creeping along the front of Leandro’s stomach, just under the stylish jacket the fae was wearing.
Leandro kissed the top of Kolt’s head, but his eyes never left the detective. “There you have it, Detective Ackerman. You’re new to our world. Take care with what you say and who you insult. I’d hate to have to replace you so soon.”
Of course the fae had to remind the human of his debt, but it didn’t surprise Gideon when Ackerman didn’t just give up either. The human was equally as tenacious as he was stupid.
“You don’t have to be here, Kolt,” Ackerman said. “I know you’re not here of your own free will,” he added, the words sending a chill down Gideon’s spine.
But before he could draw breath to continue, Kolt cut him off. “I chose this. I’m here of my own volition, and I don’t need some human to come and save me,” he snapped back at the detective — who looked surprised and a little crestfallen when his whole case fell apart.
“Now. You don’t want to be the reason I have unhappy customers tonight, Detective.” Leandro tilted his head in the direction of the door. “Shoo.”
Gideon didn’t expect Ackerman to back off even then. He exchanged a look with Darcy, who was obviously thinking the same thing. Neither of them let go of the human’s arms even as Ackerman tried to shake them off again, to no avail. Gideon only tightened his grip a little more, wanting it to hurt, to bruise… but that didn’t diminish the human’s bravado.
“You have a weak spot,” Ackerman said softly, eyes resting on Leandro before shifting to Kolt.
Gideon wasn’t sure if it was solid detective work or if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. Either way, it annoyed him to hear Ackerman call Kolt Leandro’s weak spot, even if he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him.
“I can walk myself out, git.” Ackerman finally turned his attention to him and Darcy.
Gideon rewarded him with a sharp twist of the arm he’d been holding. “If that was true, you’d have done it already,” Gideon drawled, relishing Ackerman’s hiss of pain as he squirmed to try to alleviate the pressure. Thankfully, he didn’t need any more reason to fuck the detective up. It was already bad enough that he had gotten on Leandro’s bad side then threatened to do the unpardonable: to take what belonged to Leandro.
Gideon would be happy to teach Ackerman just what happened when he crossed the line.
He nodded to Darcy again, and the two of them tightened their grip on the good detective. He twisted the man’s arm until he could practically hear the ligaments in that shoulder complain from stress.
“Walk,” Gideon said flatly, shoving him toward the door.
Leandro made no move to stop them, clearly condoning the fact that they were about to work over a member of the Organization and not giving a flying fuck. Leandro patted Kolt’s ass. “I think you were in the middle of something, hmm?” He smiled at Markant, who didn’t return it. It was business as usual as the fae continued to speak, voice smooth as silk. “A round of drinks on the house. My sincerest apologies for the disturbance.”
The handful of patrons who followed him and Darcy made no secret of the fact that they wanted to see the spectacle. Gideon wasn’t going to complain. Making an example out of someone — anyone — would certainly make his job easier. The fact that there would be witnesses, not to mention that Ackerman was with the Organization, only sweetened the deal. Ackerman had done a fine job of letting everyone know what he was, and there wasn’t a single person in the casino who would try and stop them.
He didn’t often get the chance to vent his frustrations on someone as universally disliked as a cocky lawman in otherkin society, especially not with Leandro’s silent blessing.
Ackerman struggled against the grip they had on him, but with his arm twisted behind his back, every jerk and tug exacerbated the strain on his shoulder and elbow. They barely got him outside and clear of the expensive marble floor of the Lucky Blight before Darcy sucker punched the good detective, taking the wind immediately o
ut of him. The man gasped and contorted in Gideon’s grip, still unable to move much without popping his shoulder out of joint.
The beating was just going to be a warning, so they wouldn’t leave more than bruises. Then again, accidents happened. If someone slipped and broke a bone, or dislocated a shoulder, no one would blame them.
Gideon tightened his grasp on the man, holding him up so he couldn’t avoid or defend against the next punch Darcy threw. She went straight for the kidneys, and Ackerman made a noise in the back of his throat that didn’t sound pleasant. A smirk crept up on Gideon’s lips, as the next fist had the man trying to curl up into a ball.
Darcy was being practically kind to him, only going for the squishy bits above the belt. She still worked him like a fucking punching bag, landing several deep punches in a row before slowing her roll and looking at Gideon expectantly.
Ackerman was groaning. “That all…?” His voice was strained, and when Gideon slackened his hold, he crumpled.
“Just a change of the guard,” Gideon assured him, nodding at Darcy to switch spots with him. She locked Ackerman’s elbows behind his back and — experienced as she was — turning her face away. Gideon didn’t bother tenderizing his soft parts. Instead, he took his watch off, slipped it into his pocket, and without further ado, he delivered a sharp right hook to the detective’s jaw. The man’s head snapped right, blood flying, and there was some sympathy from the onlookers then.
Not much, but some.
A second blow, then a third saw the detective’s eye blackened and his awareness fading fast. Another punch, and Gideon began to feel the strain in his own knuckles as blood sluggishly trickled from the man’s nose.
“Still smart?” Gideon asked, but no more snark seemed to be forthcoming from the man, lolling his head forward.
“I think he’s had enough,” Darcy said.
Gideon fisted his hand in Ackerman’s short dark hair and lifted his head up, looking into a bruised and bloodied eye. There was still a spark of life and light in there. He didn’t have to be a telepath to know that the human might not be spouting more snark, but it probably had more to do with the blood in his mouth than any real lesson learned.
“Almost,” he said, leaning close to Ackerman and speaking quietly. “Stay the fuck away from Kolt.” A simple warning, the ‘or else’ strongly implied as he held the man’s head up by his hair. He punched him hard one last time, splitting his own knuckles but making the body go limp as well.
Darcy dropped the detective like a sack of potatoes almost immediately, and he lay unconscious on the sidewalk then.
“Show’s over, people,” Gideon said, flexing his hand. He resisted the urge to kick the unconscious body like a proper thug for making him hurt his hand, but he was above that.
Courteously, he and Darcy waited until the onlookers went back inside or left altogether. It was classier than leaving an unconscious cop to a mob of otherkin. He looked down at the detective. He wished he could be there to see it when his superiors told him to stop fucking with the fae. It was a pissing contest a human couldn’t possibly win, and Gideon wasn’t going to let Kolt get caught in the crossfire.
Chapter Seven
The hand on his crotch was a good indicator that Markant wasn’t going to leave the building — let alone the private room — without a little something-something. The fact that the something-something wasn’t just money put Kolt in a bind.
Leandro had been pissed at him for days. The fae spared no efforts to remind him of it or to remind him of his place. He seized every chance to take his anger out on Kolt, which made his life pretty fucking miserable.
Kolt could still act the part of the slut, of Leandro’s incubus whore, but the fae would never forgive him if he so much as sucked the man off. Not after Bryce Ackerman’s fucking display, which had reminded Leandro of the human’s existence in the first place. It had been a week, and Kolt had hoped the incident would erode from his mind, but now—!
“Easy, easy,” he said with a coy laugh, putting his own hand over the werecreature’s hand and slowing his rubbing right the hell down. He didn’t want to be aroused by this man.
Markant was fucking disgusting, but he didn’t think he was going to get out of this until he got the asshole off. Leandro hadn’t specifically forbidden him, not tonight. He’d told him to make Markant happy, and a blowjob had usually been okay in the past. Now, though?
It felt like a trap.
Kolt groaned theatrically, pushing his ass back against Markant’s groin and feeling what he had to work with. The werecreature was already half-hard from just fondling him, holding him, tugging on his hair — a simple beast.
“I don’t want to go easy on you,” Markant said with a purr. He bit down on the shell of Kolt’s ear hard enough to make him wince.
“Well, you wouldn’t want to spoil me, would you?” Kolt asked with a sweet laugh, untangling himself from the guy’s embrace and turning to face him. His lips found Markant’s, and for a minute, he could almost forget who he was kissing as he pressed in close. He used some of his gifts to ease the man’s mind, making him a little more likely to comply. He already knew Markant was huge, and he slowly slid down the front of him. He sank to his knees, looking up with what could only be described as awe as he undid the man’s pants and tugged them down to his ankles.
He was hung, very hung. Kolt briefly considered just blowing him, but Leandro would lose his shit.
He took the werecreature’s weighty, half-hard cock into both hands, slowly rubbing up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. He occasionally paused to pay extra attention to the tip of the hardening cock. He leaned in a little closer, as if he was going to get to sucking next, but he kept stroking Markant instead. The man made increasingly more animalistic noises, and not for the first time, Kolt wondered if he could get carpal tunnel from all this…
“Oh yeah,” Markant moaned. “Use your mouth,” he urged.
It took considerable effort not to balk and leave. Instead of fleeing — or sucking him — he leaned in a little more, letting saliva slowly drip onto the were’s erection before he went back to using both of his hands.
Markant didn’t seem to fucking care, falling back on the bed. He leaned up on his elbows for a minute, only to drop back down and stretch again as he keened and moaned. Kolt saw the guy’s balls contract a second before jizz spilled over his still-working hands in a slow drizzle. Markant continued to groan as Kolt continued to milk him for all he was worth, until no more leaked out of that enormous cock.
“Hmm,” Markant said, pushing up on his elbows and looking between his legs at Kolt. “Why aren’t y—” he started to ask, but Kolt was taking gentle care of the semen on his hands, slowly and purposely obscenely licking it off of one of his fingers. Markant groaned and fell back into the covers. “Gods...” the were murmured, running his hand over his face.
It gave Kolt ample time to wipe his hands on the sheets. He hadn’t fancied lapping away the whole load. This was fucking risky enough as it was.
“Man, if Leandro ever gets tired of you…” Markant laughed.
Kolt smirked. “Dare you to say that to his face.”
“After what happened to the cop? Oh, no,” he muttered with a snort. “And my mate would never forgive me if I brought you home.”
Like he was a fucking puppy in need of adoption. It grated on him, but Kolt smiled sweetly.
But it kept grating, more than it should have. He felt something strange deep in his bones, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was heavy and sharp-edged, making it hard to breathe — like he was about to plummet off of a cliff.
He felt cranky, and playing the adoring slut was difficult lately. He wanted nothing more than to just skip through the foreplay and get on with it.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. He mostly just wanted Leandro to get over his shitfit.
Kolt convinced himself — once again — that it was probably just the stress. Leandro was still being an ass, the gui
lt trip still persisting, and the…
His eyes shifted to the bracelet around his wrist. He still didn’t know a fucking thing about it. He might’ve even tried to ignore it if it wasn’t for the fact that Leandro occasionally inspected it with a smug look before condescendingly petting him on the cheek and telling him he was a good boy.
Markant eventually got up and dressed, enjoying the pleasure of some idle chit chat as he did. When the man left the private room, Kolt decided to stay a little longer, like he usually did. Normally, he would have relished having the bed all to himself. He’d have enjoyed having the bathroom to himself, too, to scrub the scents of others off of him.
For a brief moment, it could all just be his, and he was free to move around and do as he fucking pleased.
Now though, the bed felt empty as he stretched out in it. The sharp annoyance was center stage, constantly in the forefront of his mind.
Grating.
Everything was just grating on him, like he was over-tired, or overwhelmed, and there was no reprieve. He was restless, and he wanted Leandro — but not Leandro like he was now.
Kolt wanted Leandro like he’d been a week ago, before the human had appeared. The fae had been pleased, willing, and not a giant walking dickhead. That, too, grated on him, and it grated on him that he wanted the fae as much as he did.
It was like he was on his fucking period.
He got up, pulling the sheets off the bed as he did and ditching them on the floor for housekeeping to change. He then moved to the bathroom, taking his time in the shower to make sure he was clean as a whistle again. He didn’t bother putting the lace shirt back on after getting out of the shower, and he left his hair up in the bun he’d put in to shower. It was dry but for a few rebel strands that had escaped the bun and had gotten wet in the back of his neck. Other than that, it was hard to tell he’d showered at all.
He just didn’t stink of Markant anymore.
Half-naked, he left the private room and crossed the hallway. Instead of heading down to the casino floor, he turned right and headed up to the loft to see if he could find Leandro there. He had to have earned some brownie points tonight. Telling the cop off, choosing Leandro in public…