Sharing Sirius

by Shona Husk

  The touch of Jack’s tongue on his skin sent heat spiking through his blood. His cock jumped and the glans scraped against Jack’s unshaven cheek. He watched as Jack turned his head slightly and licked along the length of Owen’s cock. His tongue was soft against the hard flesh, using teasing strokes that circled the head and flicked across the slit almost carelessly. But Jack was anything but careless—with anything. Then Jack put his lips around Owen’s cock and sucked.

  Owen fought to keep his eyes open as a delicious frisson of pleasure slid into his balls and filled his belly with heat. Jack’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin. For a man who wouldn’t bite, he knew how to use his teeth. Before he could get too close to the edge, Jack replaced his mouth with his hand, fisting Owen’s shaft roughly. Owen watched, torn between letting Jack continue, the golden dhampir on his knees, and wanting to taste his lover’s blood as he came, something he couldn’t do like this.

  Jack glanced up as if sensing his dilemma. Owen stared back, unable to make the decision. He just needed the release. Jack waited a couple of heartbeats, the stroke of his hand firm. He lapped a bead of cum from the tip of Owen’s shaft. Owen gasped and Jack did it again, never looking away as his tongue caressed the head of Owen’s cock. There was something unreadable in Jack’s eyes, but before Owen had a chance to analyze, Jack swallowed the length of his lover’s shaft. His finger circled the pucker of Owen’s ass.

  Owen gave up and closed his eyes, his hips bucking in response to Jack’s ministrations. The muscles in his thighs clenched as he held back. His balls tightened, and heat eddied in his blood and burned in his veins.

  But for a moment in his mind, it wasn’t Jack’s mouth around his cock and it wasn’t Jack’s teeth on his skin. It was Katya’s. Her fangs pressing deep and cutting. Her tongue circling his cock and stroking the head. His cock hardened further. A groan formed on his lips.

  His blood needed to be spilled as much as he needed to come. His fangs lengthened and pressed against his lip as his fingers kneaded Jack’s scalp. Jack responded by sucking as if he could tear the climax from Owen. His breath caught and for a moment he was drowning in sensation.

  The reality coupled with his fantasy of being bitten by Katya was more than enough to push him over the edge. His cock twitched, then he came, pumping his hips and spilling into Jack’s mouth. Jack swallowed and took his time to finish, licking every drop.

  Owen let himself breathe again. His heart hammering, his blood too hot and too fast to be contained. Jack stood and kissed him hard so he could taste his salty essence on the other man’s tongue. Another day and the situation would’ve been reversed. Owen’s fingers skimmed over Jack’s hip and drew him close. His lover’s hard cock pressed against him, still needing attention.

  Jack wrapped his hand around the back of Owen’s neck and rested his cheek against his. “I won’t be hurt if you want her.”

  “I don’t,” Owen said through clenched teeth. She was an employee. It was wrong he was even thinking about her like that. But he couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t live in his mind or the lust she thought she hid didn’t exist. He could hear the truth in the beating of her heart even if her features were schooled.

  “I hear it in your heart and see it in your eyes. Just do me the courtesy of being honest.” Jack forced the words out.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “That’s not what I said. Have her, get what you need.” Jack drew back and placed his hand over Owen’s heart.

  The soft touch made him feel lower than a legless lizard. He pulled away, breaking the embrace. “Don’t tell me what I need. Or what I want.”

  Jack’s lipped thinned. “Do you know what you want anymore?”

  Owen zipped up his jeans and did up his belt with short sharp movements. “Of course I do. I don’t want a casual bite.”

  “It doesn’t have to be casual.”

  He turned slowly and looked at his lover. Still naked, still hard. They should be fucking, not arguing over his PA. A decade together and Jack had never once suggested anything like this. “What’s going on, Jack?”

  Jack’s tongue darted over his lip, but the smile was gone, replaced with something darker. “You’re the oldest Vampire I know, have ever known. When was the last time you decided what movie to go see? Which pizza to order? Hell, what to have for breakfast?”

  “What does it matter?” He’d done those things a thousand times before. Why did he have to think about them? Or be concerned with them?

  Jack looked at his toes as they curled against the carpet. “I’m worried.” He glanced up as if not wanting to admit what was on his mind. His sighed before speaking. “I think you are showing signs of ennui.”

  Ennui, the Vampire equivalent of senility. Young in body, old of mind. He’d seen it happen. Seen old ones literally sit down and, after a few days of not moving, die. At some point life had to stop. For many Vampires it was a violent end, and most would prefer that to just slipping away.

  And Jack thought he was starting to slide. Was he? The fear he’d been ignoring bathed him in ice, cooling his skin and raising gooseflesh down his back. He’d seen the concern in Katya’s eyes and now Jack’s. They’d been discussing him. He didn’t want their pity.

  “I’m fine, just distracted by the new album and the associated promo crap. It’s not enough to just make good music these days.” He gave Jack a hug and hoped his lover couldn’t feel the disquiet in his embrace. “You’re an idiot. I love you for caring enough to worry.” He kissed the dhampir’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Are you sure it isn’t you who wants to feel my bite on one side and hers on the other?”

  Jack swallowed but didn’t pull away and deny it. “You crave to be bitten. You need it. I’m giving you that freedom.”

  “It’s not your choice to make.” Owen released him. The heat and lust that had just existed were gone. He took a few steps back and then walked out of their bedroom, leaving Jack standing there alone.

  But Jack’s words echoed in his ears, louder than the pounding of his blood. In the corridor, he curled his hands into fists and let his nails break the skin. Blood oozed out of the crescent-shaped wounds, but the relief was instant. Waves of release, as if he were coming again, coursed through him. The tension eased, but his self-loathing increased.

  He’d never had to release blood before. But over the past couple of weeks, the need had been growing. And Jack knew. He hung his head. He hadn’t betrayed his lover in action, but the thoughts were there, fully formed, the desire was there and it was only a very fine thread of control keeping him from acting. He couldn’t be trusted if he couldn’t control himself.

  Ennui. Were these really the first signs or was he just absorbed with the band? Just self-absorbed.

  He opened his fists. The blood had already stopped flowing. He went to the spare bathroom and washed his hands, the water running pink, then clear. His palms were already healing. Around Jack, he healed faster than he ever had, something to do with the dhampir blood. How could he love Jack but crave the one thing Jack couldn’t give him?

  But he knew the answer and he didn’t like it. His body was searching out its own solution to the ennui. He knew the ways to fight it, had seen old ones surrounded by their lovers. At the time he’d barely seen five decades, and the idea of living that long seemed extravagant—the old ones back then were Vampires who’d helped the Romans invade Britain. But now everyone he’d grown up with was gone. The friends he’d made in royal courts were dead. Even the children he’d sired were dead—one in a witch hunt and one in the French Revolution.

  When he was fighting in the Crusades, he’d never expected to live to see the end of the century, now here he was and he was battling himself. He was an old one. He could deny it and give up and die or give in and feel like shit. He kept his gaze down, unable to even look at himself in the mirror. There was no such thing as an easy death for a Vampire.

  * * * * *

  The crowd stomped and called out their fa
vorite songs. In between the old tracks they put the new, giving the audience a taste of the latest Lucinda’s Lover album. It was darker and had more depth than some of their earlier offerings. Yet the humans and non-humans alike seemed satisfied. Owen scanned the mixed crowd.

  Open gigs still set him on edge, as if he expected someone to turn and start a massacre. Or worse, Vampire hunters to sweep in and kill. It had happened before, centuries ago in an ale house where Vampires had congregated. He glanced at the other band members, Aidan, Etienne and William.

  His gaze lingered on William’s bare back, sweat trickling down his spine and slipping into his leather pants. The man was just as attractive now as he had been three centuries ago. It had taken a century for them to even tolerate being in the same room together after they’d broken up. In the end, artistic need had won out over wounded pride and broken hearts.

  His fingers skipped over strings as the music slowed and took on a slower rhythm. They’d never managed to escape a venue without playing Pistols at Dawn. It was an in-joke created from the tension between him and William, with nods back to the first time Lucinda’s Lover had played over a century ago as The William Black Quartet.

  He was fucking sick of playing it. And yet tonight to the chants of draw and the reverberation of the stomping in the mosh pit, it took on a more dangerous edge. The hot stage lights illuminated William and him as they circled. William’s green eyes were lit with magic as he fed off the crowd’s emotions. Absinthe was the stage name he used—and had once been his drink of choice. The Shaman blood in William always rose to the surface during a show. The day William had enchanted him had been the last day of their relationship.

  William had better control now, no doubt one of the women in the crowd was already half under his spell. Her dream of screwing one of the band backstage was about to come true. William never took anyone home. Owen shook his head. How many years and the same thing repeats?

  They traded measures. Each one rising in complexity, each one unscripted—though he was sure they’d all been played before at some time. He lunged as if to attack. William sidestepped and lashed out with his bow. Owen caught it with his own as if they were fencing. After this, the bow was only good for the bin. They never used the expensive violins either, not after William’s treasured Amati had almost had a near-fatal accident.

  His bow slid down, then he rapped William over the knuckles. If it hadn’t been an open concert, there’d have been fangs involved. Being the smart-ass, William switched hands and played left-handed. Cocky son-of-a-bitch. That was why William was first violin. All show and little substance.

  William played his next musical challenge and Owen conceded he did have talent—he’d taught him, after all. The next time William struck out with his bow, Owen brought his down hard. Miraculously, his didn’t break. William’s did, so he cast it aside and plucked at the strings like a peasant on a banjo. The crowd went wild.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  But no, he’d lost the duel to William. William swept the audience a low bow best suited to courtiers before their queen. Then he turned to Owen and clapped his hands so the audience could acknowledge him too.

  But the thrill of applause was missing. It didn’t lift his spirits the way it once had. Yet he smiled and hid his sigh and acted as if nothing was wrong. Jack was right. If he didn’t do something, he’d be too far gone to ever lead a normal life again. He’d be like the deranged rat-drinking Vampires who populated B-grade horror films, desperately trying to find something that made life worth living. Or worse, he’d end up alone like William.

  Chapter Three

  “We meet again, Katya.” Jack raised his cup of coffee in salute before taking a sip.

  “So we do.” She smiled, but it was tight. Not because she was wary of what Jack would suggest this time, but because the idea that he’d planted in her mind had taken root and was growing far faster than she liked.

  That, and he was right about Owen. Owen was losing interest in life.

  She raised one fair eyebrow. “I thought you’d have gone to the launch last night.”

  “I went to the last two, plus I’m behind on a job and I don’t want to piss the client off.”

  She looked at him again and saw the tiredness in his eyes. “Not your first coffee of the day.”

  “Or my last cup of the night.” He gave her a rueful smile, and in that moment she saw what attracted Owen. He could be luminous, as if no one else existed in the world but the person he was talking to. How could she have ever mistaken him for being human? And he cared, about his job and about his lover. To be the center of his attention would be amazing.

  “Why don’t you have a chokolat instead, it might give you a boost.” She offered him her mug.

  Jack shook his head. “I can’t take in etheric in such large quantities. I’m just tired…”

  And worried. He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

  “Have you spoken to Owen?” She wished she hadn’t asked as Jack twisted his lips into a grimace that had nothing to do with the strength of his coffee.

  “You try telling a seven-century-old Vampire what’s good for him and see how far you get.”

  She nodded. Owen could be determined, but she liked that about him. No was merely an obstacle, not the end.

  “And you?” He brushed her cheek with his fingers as if sweeping aside an imagined strand of hair. “Have you thought about what I said?”

  Heat crept up her cheek in the wake of his touch. Jack pulled his hand away too fast, as if her skin burned him. She couldn’t meet his gaze without betraying her thoughts—and those kinds of thoughts should be kept private. She didn’t want to admit her lust for Owen to his lover, and yet it wasn’t just thoughts of Owen that had been sneaking through her dreams. After seeing Jack walking up the beach, she wouldn’t mind seeing him walking into her bedroom…or tasting him.

  “I’m not fangs for hire.” She tried to sound casual, as if the idea of being caught between the two men held no attraction. The more she learned about Jack, the more alluring he became.

  “I know. Even though I can sense your desire, you deny it, fight it. It’s why it has to be you.” He paused. And she risked looking up. “It’s why I can trust you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He shouldn’t trust her. He shouldn’t be offering his lover to her. If he’d come to her requesting a casual threesome, she could’ve refused. If it had been anything other than trying to save Owen. But she cared too much about Owen to walk away. And if Jack lost Owen, he’d be devastated. She put her arms around him as if she could hold him together. She didn’t want to see the heartache in his eyes. And she didn’t want to be able to rationalize what they were discussing.

  She should’ve walked away, but it was far too late for that. She couldn’t let Owen sink into the mindless ennui, she wanted him. In her heart, a tiny part of her hoped that she could have him all, but when she looked at Jack, she knew she couldn’t take from him, not after the sacrifice he was making. Instead she wanted to give him something in exchange.

  Katya placed her hands on either side of his face. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble tickled her skin in a way that tantalized and sent a shiver of longing down her spine and into her belly. His hands covered hers, his palms warm from cradling his cup of coffee. For a moment neither moved.

  Then she kissed him. For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, as if he were too stunned to do anything. Her fangs lengthened as she sank into the kiss and his tongue flicked along her lower lip. Tentative, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Heat pooled in her belly, need dampening her panties. She rose onto her toes, the length of his erection pressing against her stomach, but he stepped back, breaking the connection.

  “This isn’t for me.” He lowered her hands but didn’t release them.

  It didn’t matter though, she knew he was attracted to her even if he claimed this was all for his lover. Jack had the strength of will to match Owen. Together they would be amaz
ing. Her heart pounded hard, as if she’d been running, not kissing, but she managed a nod.

  “Then where does that leave you? And me? And us?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked at their joined hands.

  Maybe Jack had it wrong. “What if Owen doesn’t want me as much as you think he does?”

  Jack closed his eyes and delicate lines formed at the corners. “He does. I’d rather him in your bed than losing his mind and me losing him.” When he opened his eyes, they had lost their sparkle and the pain was back.

  Katya sighed. “I never wanted him like this.”

  “Neither did I, and yet here we are like conspiring lovers.” He forced a smile and for a moment she wondered if they ever could be lovers or if there was too much angst between them.

  She didn’t envy his situation. What would she have done in his place? Would she have had the balls to ask for help? Would she have had the guts to follow through? Would she have had the stomach to live with the consequences?

  She’d like to think she could be that selfless, but in her heart she didn’t think she could do it. Jack was far braver than she was. His love for Owen must be something special. And she was about to dent it. She felt like crud. Yet if she put the letter on the desk and ran away, she knew she’d feel worse.

  Katya took a breath and released it slowly. “Then we are in agreement? I will pursue Owen?”

  He nodded. “You have my—” he choked on the word. “Just don’t rub my face in it.”

  She remembered every kiss she’d seen the men share over the past three years, the looks and the touches. At first she’d been shocked at the open display, then a subtle kind of envy had crept in. They were perfect together and watching them was a reminder Owen would never look twice at her—even if there was lust in that first glance.