Practicality won over trepidation. Throwing back the covers, he reached for that helping hand. “Thanks,” he said as he tottered to his feet.
Christos threw a strong arm around his shoulders and steadied him. Mateo couldn’t help leaning into the support and even dared to grab hold of the man’s waist. Every bit of the big man was lean and hard and weirdly cool. He was like the Creature, except Mateo immediately banished those thoughts because his rational mind could tell the difference between the family members. So far, everyone here had treated him with surprising kindness, as different from his experience with their thankfully dead relative as could be.
The trip to the bathroom was short yet tiring. He didn’t object when Christos steered him toward the toilet and sat him down after lowering the cover. “Wow, that’s pathetic. I can’t believe how wobbly I am.”
“You put too much pressure on yourself. Illness does that to hu— people.”
He looked up at him from under his lashes. “I bet it doesn’t happen to you.”
“No, it does not,” the man allowed after a second’s thought. “Let me help you disrobe. Lift your arms.”
Mateo chuckled. “Sometimes you talk like you’re from some long-ago time.” He stopped abruptly at Christos’ touch.
As the man grabbed the hem of his pajama top, his fingers brushed against Mateo’s sides. The coolness was both a relief from the hotness of his own fevered flesh but also electrifying, causing a heat of a different kind. He could swear his dick was trying to rally past the sickness.
Christos swore under his breath, apparently affected by the contact as well. “I should have thought to start the water before doing this.” He pressed the top against Mateo’s chest before walking over to the shower.
Or not affected at all, merely planning the best way to nurse me through my bath time. Jeez.
He watched Christos fiddle with the temperature of the various shower heads, then turn some gizmo by the towel racks. Immediately, the floor beneath his bare feet started to feel warm.
“Is that heating the tiles?”
“Yes—and the towels.”
“Wow, being rich is really awesome, huh?” He tried not to resent how shitty his life was in comparison and appreciate that he could benefit from this luxury for the next few days.
Christos returned. “The economic inequality of people on this planet is a major point against it.”
“Like it’s better on other planets?” he teased.
“Possibly.” The man acted as if the question was perfectly legitimate, while wasting no time stripping off his own clothing.
Mateo sat, clutching his shirt to his chest, curling his toes along the heated tiles while every inch of Christos’ magnificent body became exposed. The expanse of pale skin stretched over tight muscles had the effect of looking like marble. The lack of obvious hair heightened the effect, not that any of the details took his attention for long, not when that big cock came swinging into view. And swing it did, because the guy went commando, and removing his pants meant that the weapon he’d been containing took full advantage of its sudden freedom. Hard and sticking up in a nearly entirely vertical position, it loomed into Mateo’s line of sight. Here, finally, was a hint of color, a pink tinge blooming over the shaft all the way up to a wide head. Big balls clung tightly to the base.
He must have made some kind of noise, a gasp or a squeak even. Christos paused in his efforts to fold his clothing. “Please do not be concerned with that. I am unable to control it, but it is meaningless.”
Mateo blew out a breath. “Seriously, dude, that means a fuck load of something.”
“I am sexually attracted to you and am especially aroused at the idea that I am going to be seeing you naked and touching you.” Tossing his clothing on the sink counter, he gave Matteo a hard stare. “I will not act on my desire nor will I take advantage of your vulnerability. You have my word that you are safe with me and, other than possible inadvertent contact, I will not impose my unruly dick on you. I am here to help. That is all.” His words and tone made it all sound like a vow, and the serious expression on his face made Mateo want to reassure him.
“I trust you, and I’m not afraid of you or your dick.”
“That is good. Can you stand? Here… Use my arm for leverage.”
Mateo took hold of what felt like an iron rod and rose on legs that were just as jelly-like as they had been moments before. Of course, now there was another reason for his weakness besides sickness. If Christos could be adult about this, he could as well. There was no sense in rewarding the man’s kindness by being provocative. He resolved to ignore the obvious attraction and just be grateful his own body was too ill to react similarly, because that would be embarrassing as hell.
He kept his gaze on the spray of water while Christos pulled his pajama bottoms down to his ankles, then he dutifully lifted first one foot, then the other, like a toddler, until he stood equally naked. There was almost a muscle memory of what it meant to be in such a position, making him shudder in anticipation of something that he knew wasn’t coming.
Christos misinterpreted the reaction, thank God. “Come. Let me get you under the water to warm you.” He elicited another startled sound from Mateo when he lifted him into his arms. It didn’t help that the tip of that cock brushed against his ass briefly in the process.
Mateo clung to the man much like a baby rhesus monkey, too overwhelmed with the bizarre situation to be embarrassed. Christos wasted no time stepping into the giant shower. Once he did, he lowered Matteo gently onto his feet, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders while positioning him under the hot, powerful spray. The moment it hit him, Mateo groaned from the exquisite sensation of being bombarded with the soothing water. It was better than sex.
Christos willed himself to become a statue, like an ancient piece of marble carved in the image of the Egyptian God Bes, with his phallus on full display yet intending to be a protector, not a predator. Damn his unruly dick anyway. One would have thought rubbing out a few orgasms in his own shower would have tamed the beast and made him acceptable company for this poor, sick boy. Apparently not. Of course, he hadn’t anticipated this particular form of temptation. It was more like torture, really. How could he expect to remain passive while holding the body of a beautiful boy, shiny with water sluicing down his golden skin?
By reminding himself how ill and defenseless this human was, that was how. Mateo was there because he was in dire straits and had been felled by a sickness that had the power to kill him, if not for the care he was receiving. He needed kindness, something Christos suspected the poor child had received little of in his short life. And reminding himself of how young this human was helped. Yes, technically he was an adult, but that meant nothing. Emotional maturity came later in this species. There was no chance anything between them could be counted as consensual and equal. Mateo believed he owed payment for this help. For that reason alone, Christos was determined to keep himself in check. He would prove to this boy that there were decent men on this planet who wanted nothing from him, even if those men were actually aliens.
His head a little clearer on the matter, he turned to the mundane task of helping Mateo wash. Bottles of various kinds stood lined up in caddies attached to the wall. Holding the boy steady with one hand, he pumped shampoo into the other before lathering it through his hair. He’d intended to make it quick and clinical. The way the boy reacted to his touch, however—pretty little moans and leaning his head back to offer better access—had him changing his mind. Humans liked being scratched and petted, like many animals he’d encountered. It was satisfying to press the pads of his fingers into the scalp and massage. He was rewarded by breathy groans and the occasional shiver. Given the warmth of the water beating down on them both, he couldn’t pretend it was anything other than pleasure.
They both got so lost in the activity that it was startling when Mateo leaned a little too close and brushed against Christos’ hard dick. Each of them jerked away and he
had to let go of the boy’s head in order to keep him from taking a tumble into the wall.
“Sorry,” the boy mumbled.
“My fault entirely,” he replied and returned to finish the job of washing then rinsing Mateo’s hair.
After making short work of the conditioner, he filled his palm with liquid soap and contemplated how he was going to manage this little nightmare task without embarrassing himself and alarming the boy, because naturally he’d forgotten to bring in a washcloth and would have to do all the cleaning by hand. He considered offering the soap to Mateo to do on his own, then decided that would be cowardly. Instead, he went about the job as if he were rubbing down a horse. He started with the safe bits—the shoulders and back and on to the arms. That enticingly small and high ass was more of the same. Wipe down and around, and not—sweet Jesus—inside the crack. The flow of suds and water would do the trick just fine.
Turning Mateo around to rinse away his efforts and start on the front, he averted his eyes. The chest was exactly like the back, only with nipples, and they didn’t require any attention at all. The flat stomach was simply a reminder of how underfed the boy was—something to pity, not covet. There was nothing of interest south of there. That was what he told himself over and over, and yet he couldn’t help but peek at the slender cock that was on display, because there was hardly a shred of hair surrounding it. What nature gave humans, they constantly sought to alter and remove. And yet, he couldn’t complain at the lovely sight. It all but killed him to pass that oh-so-desirable piece of flesh through his fingers without lingering. A quick flirtation with cleaning small, soft balls and he continued on to the legs. That was the most cursory effort of all. Otherwise, he’d have to bend over, putting his eyeballs right in front of that which he was dying to suck into his mouth.
He turned Mateo around again, treating him like a doll, to rinse his front clean. Mateo remained compliant and quiet, but his body was beginning to shake with fatigue. Christos hurried to turn off the water and scooped him once more into his arms. The human’s light weight continued to disturb him. They might not have many days together, yet he was determined to fatten the boy up as much as possible. The towels were warmed through and he hastily wrapped two around his charge, one for his body and one for his hair. Then he sat on the toilet with Mateo in his lap, because he just couldn’t imagine letting him go. Not yet.
Thank God for thick towels. His dick was valiantly trying to break through the barrier, but it remained firmly trapped instead of poking at Mateo. At least the boy seemed to be comfortable and not fearing he was under assault, because the moment they were seated, he leaned against Christos’ chest with a humbling amount of trust.
“Thank you. I can’t believe how tired and wobbly I am after doing so little.”
“It was a lot, showering like that. Your, um…hair needed a good cleaning.”
“Hm-m. It’s been a few days and I was sweating last night because of the fever. It felt wonderful the way you washed it.”
The boy’s soft, sleepy tone gave Christos all kinds of bad ideas. “I’m glad to have been of help,” he said gruffly before beginning to rub the boy’s wet hair with the towel.
“I should do that.” Mateo moved to pull away.
Christos held him firmly in place. “No, you are too weak. I will do it. It is no bother. There’s likely a hair dryer in here and I’ll use that once I get most of the water wicked away. I don’t want you to get a chill. Harry will take a dim view of me if I set his patient’s recovery back through lack of care.”
Mateo snuggled closer into his towel. “You could call for Demi to do this if you think I can’t.”
“No.”
“Because I’m your responsibility?”
“That—and because I want to be the one to do it.” He regretted the confession the moment the words left his mouth. In the next instant, he decided that he didn’t. What difference did it make if the boy knew how he felt? He’d vowed not to touch him or make any kind of demands. Keeping his promise was all that mattered.
Mateo tipped his head back and looked at him. “You want me.”
He stilled his movements and stared at him. “I have said as much.”
“Except you don’t want to”—he frowned—“or you resent the fact that you do.”
Christos restarted his efforts, keeping his movements slow, almost a caress, much like the way he’d washed it to begin with. He didn’t miss how Mateo’s eyes dropped closed with obvious delight.
“How I react to you or how I feel about it has nothing to do with you.”
“You think? It seems like it has everything to do with me.”
Christos huffed. “Well, naturally it does. I mean that it’s nothing for you to be bothered about. It has to do with my failings, my weaknesses. You aren’t responsible, nor should you give it a moment’s thought. Your only concern is to get well.”
“Hm-m.” Mateo cuddled against him once more. “What if I want to think about it? What if I want to encourage it?”
Christos’ breath hitched, as did his movements, before he regained his composure. “No. You must do neither of those things. You aren’t in a position to make any kind of decisions and I refuse to allow you to do so.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I have never claimed to be. Now, no more of this. I will dry your hair and the rest of you, then dress you in fresh clothing.”
Another thing he’d forgotten. Fortunately, once he had eliminated every drop of water from the boy’s skin, wrapped him in another warm, dry towel and returned to the bedroom, he found that someone had removed the breakfast tray and laid out clean clothing on the bed. It took little time or effort to see his charge fully dressed and tucked in tightly once again.
“There,” he said, straightening by the nightstand and realizing belatedly that he was still naked. And…yeah, still totally erect. His cock hadn’t gotten with the program at all. “Excuse me a moment.”
He nearly used his natural speed in his haste to return to the bathroom, slowing abruptly enough that he stumbled like a drunk—one whose cock preceded him by about a foot. There was a burst of a giggle from the bed. Ignoring it and his own sense of shame, he entered the bathroom and practically slammed the door shut. He snatched his clothing from the counter then realized he could never get his pants on in his present condition. There was nothing for it but to rectify the situation.
Hating himself, knowing that the boy was out there almost certainly picturing what he was doing, Christos nevertheless took his cock in hand. He made his grip as punishing as he could, both to give vent to his anger and also to make short work of the affair. He had to bite back a groan and brace one hand against the wall as he jerked his shaft. Coming didn’t require any kind of imagery, given how primed he was. He still conjured up the memory of Mateo, slick and sleek like a seal under that spray, with his firm ass facing Christos in an unintended invitation. He allowed himself to fantasize it was just that and imagined accepting it—to clasp those slim hips and draw that ass toward him, to slide his dick between the wet cleft, to find that hole awaiting him, circling it with his cockhead dripping with pre-cum and to press forward, past the puckered ring and up the tight channel to drive balls-deep inside the willing boy.
This time, the groan made its escape. He let it out long and low as he milked the climax. His arm shook with the effort to keep himself upright, making him think of the boy waiting for him in the next room. When the next wave of orgasm claimed him with even more intensity, he went to his knees, relishing the pain caused by bone hitting tile. When his vision cleared, he used one of the wet towels to wipe the cum from his hands and everywhere else it had managed to splatter. Then he used it to rub his cock clean with vicious vigor until he hissed from the burn.
Staggering back to his feet, he proceeded to dress, although his fucking dick wasn’t quite as limp as it should be. It remained a struggle to wrangle it back into his pants. He managed, though, and gathered the dirty linen to tak
e down to the laundry. No way was he leaving this mess for someone else to deal with. And he’d handle the washing machine himself. He didn’t need the ribbing that would come from others scenting his lack of control.
Christos was quiet when he reentered the bedroom, not sure if Mateo had fallen asleep. No worries there. The boy was lying where he’d put him minutes ago, his gaze fixed firmly on him.
“Honestly, did you find that more satisfying than anything you might have done with me?” There was an accusation in his tone, which was adorable as well as aggravating.
Christos didn’t bother denying anything and went for the truth, as always. “Certainly not. I would have much preferred drilling you into the mattress.” Ah, that sudden widening of the human’s eyes was most gratifying.
He headed for the door. “As that is not an option and will never be an option, for reasons that I have already stated on multiple occasions, it was all that was or ever will be available to me.” He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Now, is there anything else you need or want before I leave?”
Mateo slunk into the covers. “No. Thank you.”
“Very well. Get some sleep. That shower took a lot out of you.”
“No, it didn’t. I’m fine.” A large yawn laid waste to that claim.
Christos hid a smile. The boy really was adorable beyond measure. It was going to be agony keeping his hands off of him. “I will return shortly to check on you.”
With that promise, he put distance between them, even knowing that nothing was ever going to be enough of a barrier to curb his mounting desire.
Chapter Four
Merlin suppressed his eagerness and dutifully went through the warm-up exercises that the warriors insisted on before they got to the good stuff. Aside from the pleasure of being in Annika’s presence, this training was the one good thing about being forced to live in Boston with his father’s enemies. Alex and his men had decided that, with the existential threat of Dracul, it was important for all of the young males to be trained in combat. This hand-to-hand shit was second only to the awesome fun of trying out various badass weapons in the basement shooting range.
Final Dance: Part One (Alien Blood Wars Book 8) Page 6