Kyle’s hands ran over Deck’s skin. They flowed like water, light and graceful, but they burned. Burned away doubts Deck didn’t even know he harbored and left only desire and an unfolding love that, in this moment, he could no longer fear. One came to rest over Deck’s heart, the other lower down. Kyle kept that hand flat on Deck’s belly, but the dual heat of his skin radiated out to Deck’s hard cock.
He could whisper “touch my dick” and Kyle would, whether it came out as an order or a gasp of need. But even though his cock was straining to reach that elusive hand, Deck didn’t say the words. Didn’t grab Kyle’s hand and move it. Didn’t do anything except enjoy the contact.
It was perfect as it was. Intimate and deeply arousing, but not something that would push him over the edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge right now. He was usually impatient when it came to sex, but he needed to take this slowly, to savor something long desired as it unfolded.
And Kyle knew.
Of course Kyle knew. Kyle was one of the few nonwitches he’d slept with, and thus one of his few partners who didn’t have some psychic abilities. And yet Kyle seemed to know what he needed better than anyone, male or female, he’d ever been with.
Why had he fought this connection with Kyle in the first place? Other than he was an idiot, of course.
Deck drank in Kyle’s touch and Kyle’s beauty like it was water and he’d been lost in the desert for the months they’d been apart.
Then he dispensed with subtlety, using strength and a bit of saved magical energy gleaned from the desire in the air to rip Kyle’s long-sleeved tee-shirt off, starting at the neck. Kyle gasped and cursed. His hands abandoned Deck’s chest and tried to close on Deck’s wrists instead. Deck threw them off as if Kyle were a child, then set to work on tugging off Kyle’s shorts. Again, Kyle made noises that might have been protests, put up a token struggle. But when Deck started yanking the shorts down, Kyle wiggled to make it easier. Kyle’s eyes were closed, and his hands worked by his sides, making fists then unclenching, as if he wanted to hit Deck or caress him—or, knowing Kyle, maybe both. But he let Deck undress him without a struggle and stepped out of the shorts obediently enough when the time came.
Kyle wasn’t wearing underwear, which made Deck wonder if Kyle ever did wear underwear.
Kyle was tan all over, his whole body golden.
Sometime Deck was going to ask about that, but not right now. It was still early in the summer, and it had been a rainy spring, so he must have been following the surf south. And Deck wanted to hear all the stories—later.
Right now he wanted to get a good look at the beautiful naked man in front of him. And when he’d looked enough to make up for a few of the nights he’d had to rely on memory, he wanted to touch and pinch and bite and kiss and pleasure every inch of that sleek skin.
As if to counter his double-thick otter pelt, Kyle had almost no body hair except in his armpits and at his groin. He was sleek, sleek and perfect, with legs made for wrapping around someone’s hips or neck, and strong arms and amazing abs. His cock rose from a nest of black hair, solid and thick yet just as sleek as the rest of him.
Deck circled Kyle. He tried to move with elegant menace, as if he was performing some sexual ritual. Using his body language to show how possessive he felt right now would make Kyle shiver with lust, and knowing that made him even harder.
Not that the three-sixty view wasn’t doing that anyway.
Powers, the man had a back that defied description, all flowing muscle from years of paddling through surf and swimming in otter form. Deck knew without vanity that he had a surfer’s back himself, along with the good abs and strong arms and legs you developed when you were serious about the sport. But even though he was a bigger guy than Kyle, with bulky muscles like the Vikings on his mom’s side of the family, Kyle had the better-defined back. And, oh Powers, that ass. That ass was perfection.
He’d fucked Kyle only a few times, and that was months ago. But soon he’d have his hands all over that amazing body, and soon after that, he’d be fucking that glorious ass.
He reached for Kyle, undecided if he just wanted to touch him or manhandle him over the arm of the couch and fuck him on the spot.
Kyle evaded him smoothly.
Only in doing so, he’d moved closer to the wall—and closer to the hallway that led to the bedroom. Deck didn’t believe for a second the otter didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
Deck was on him in a flash, one hand on either side of Kyle’s head, pinning him to the wall with his body and, as best he could, with the force of his personality. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, but before Kyle could answer, Deck stopped his mouth with a kiss.
Kyle tasted like ocean and light. No, he tasted like Kyle, and that was better than any metaphor. Deck might have him pinned to the wall, but Kyle was pulling Deck even closer. Their cocks brushed against each other with an electric jolt, and the kiss became something involving teeth and his raw strength and Kyle’s. Kyle’s nails scratched down Deck’s back, leaving a trail of fire, then dug into his ass.
Deck broke off the kiss. “Behave. No drawing blood until later.”
“Make me.” Kyle grinned in challenge.
“You are so asking for it.”
Kyle continued to grin, and to claw at Deck’s butt.
Deck smacked Kyle’s inner thigh, a sharp, stingy blow. Then he raised his hand, cupped Kyle’s chin in a definite message of dominance. “I said behave.”
Kyle’s dark eyes went wide and dreamy and his hands relaxed so he was gripping at Deck, not clawing. Kyle gasped, “Yes,” then kissed him even more passionately, his body arching and writhing against Deck’s as if he wanted to find his way inside Deck’s skin. Deck’s instinct had been right. His arousal jacked to an even higher plateau.
Okay, otters were wired a little funny, or at least his otter was. But Deck could get used to it—at least now that he’d admitted to himself that it gave him an excuse to unleash a part of himself that he’d always kept carefully constrained. Donovans were nice in bed. It was drummed into their heads when they were being taught to use their red magic.
But in this case, Deck’s lover’s idea of nice was rough and dirty, in an erotic way.
And that let Deck go wild too.
Still kissing, he manhandled Kyle down the hall. Kyle dragged his feet like a cat on a leash, but he was also kissing wildly and touching Deck everywhere Deck would let him.
They made it to the bedroom, but not as far as the bed. Once they reached the thick sea-green carpet, Deck forced Kyle to the ground. The two of them wrestled briefly, but Kyle put up only token resistance.
Just enough to make it more fun for both of them.
They wound up with Kyle on his hands and knees on the floor and Deck kneeling behind him.
Deck clamped his hand on the back of Kyle’s neck and pressed his face down toward the floor. Kyle’s muscles resisted, but just before he gave in, he turned his head slightly so Deck could see his grin.
Once Kyle was in position, Deck slapped his ass. “Don’t move,” he ordered. Then he slapped that gorgeous ass a few more times because it felt so good under his hand and he liked the dusky flush that blossomed on the tan skin.
And he really, really liked the way Kyle moaned and pushed back to meet his blows. Okay, technically that was moving, but he wanted Kyle to get in to the spanking, be unable to stop offering his ass for more. Deck kept going until his hand stung and Kyle’s aura revealed he was on the verge of losing his mind.
Deck repeated, “Don’t move,” then slipped away long enough to get the lube out of the bedside table. Too long since it had been used for anything except to ease jerking off. Deck may have pushed Kyle away last fall, but after he did, he hadn’t felt the urge to hook up with anyone else. Not sexy Ben Wanaka, who tried to seduce him on a surfing trip to
Hawaii. Not the two uninhibited fox girls, half sibs of Paul’s husband, who made him an offer he ended up refusing, although identical twin redheads should have been a no-brainer.
But as soon as it seemed to be too late, he’d known the only one he really wanted was Kyle.
And now Meaghan, a little voice tickled in his brain. But he opted to ignore it until he’d sated himself and Kyle.
He returned with the bottle of lube, already slicked himself. He’d threatened to fuck Kyle raw, and, the way he felt, that still might happen, but they should at least start out comfortable.
He spread those fine ass cheeks and drizzled lube into the crack between them, then opened Kyle up with one finger.
Kyle pushed back, fucking himself on the invading digit. He hadn’t talked much since they started playing—neither of them had, too intent on sensation and on doing more immediately gratifying things with their mouths—but now he begged, “Come on, Deck. Fuck me. Give me your dick.”
“When I’m good and ready.” Which he was, but he had a point to make. “And did I say you could raise your head?”
Kyle lowered his head to the rug again, but as he did, he moaned, “Please. Fuck me hard.”
The words sounded like they’d been torn out of him: hoarse, broken, lost.
They went straight to Deck’s cock so he couldn’t tease any longer, couldn’t open Kyle up finger by finger, couldn’t pretend patience he didn’t feel, couldn’t keep trying to control the situation.
All he could do was fuck like a madman, and that was what he did.
When he thrust in, not bothering to go slowly and sensually, Kyle let out an oof that might have been pain. But while there may have been some discomfort—a rough entry, no matter how much you wanted it, could smart—Kyle slammed back to meet him, as if pleasure far outweighed any twinges.
Deck grabbed Kyle’s hips, withdrew, then drove in even deeper.
Kyle gripped his cock like a vise. Deck felt it everywhere, not just on his dick. Kyle was moaning, an eerie keen that occasionally broke into an otter’s chitter, but it was a good sound because he was fucking back with all his considerable strength, clamping down with his internal muscles. The room blue-shifted as if they were fucking inside an incredible wave. The ever-present shushing and pounding of the surf below the house grew louder. Deck’s eyes were open because he’d wanted to watch Kyle’s beautiful body as they joined, but instead of seeing Kyle with normal vision, he saw him with witch-sight, limned in red magic, his aura shaped like the man Deck was fucking but also like a man-sized otter. He hadn’t meant to raise power, but he was, and it was more power than he’d raised in a long time.
“So good. So hot and tight. Oh Powers, Kyle, I’ve missed you.”
“Missed…you…too.” Kyle’s voice was distorted, almost unrecognizable, and Deck didn’t think it was just because his face was down on the carpet. “Need…need…”
But he couldn’t articulate what he needed, so Deck was left to guess based on what he craved himself. Deck drove his nails into Kyle’s ass hard enough to leave deep welts. Then he shifted position, draping his body over Kyle’s. He couldn’t penetrate as deeply or as roughly at this angle, but it seemed more intimate, and he craved that after the long separation.
He slipped his hand under Kyle and grasped the other man’s cock. Kyle wailed as Deck began to stroke and tug.
To the rhythm of the fucking.
To the rhythm of the waves crashing outside, and the waves he always felt inside him the way a normy was subliminally aware of the beating of his heart.
Everything was tangled together. Deck no longer knew where he left off and Kyle began, where land left off and ocean began, where sex left off and love began. The room spun and swirled and he felt like he’d wiped out messily, caught up in a violent wave so he no longer knew which way was up. Then Kyle’s body—or was it his? He couldn’t tell anymore—went very still, tensed. Come spurted onto his hand as Kyle cried out Deck’s name.
Deck’s orgasm broke over him hard. Definitely a wipeout, held down by wave after wave, but instead of drowning, he was learning to breathe water. Power swirled around them, red and ocean blue.
What the hell was he going to do with it? He hadn’t meant to collect all this power; especially with a thunderstorm going on, he didn’t dare hang on to it.
Meaghan needed all the help she could get, and their magic was compatible. With the last bit of brainpower he could muster, Deck shunted the power at Meaghan, directing some of it to her rickety shields. He let the rest bathe over the woman, muttering a prayer that it might make her stronger.
Then he let himself collapse to the floor, using his weight to pull Kyle with him so they were spooning. In a few minutes he figured they’d stagger to the bed, but right now he just wanted to hold Kyle close and revel in the warmth of his body, the smooth heat of Kyle’s skin under his hands.
And try very hard to embrace the moment and not think too hard.
Fucking Kyle raised oceans of power, even though he hadn’t been aiming for that at all. All that swirling magical energy had to mean something.
His magic hadn’t danced for Kyle, not the way every other Donovan in the world described the experience of having sex for the first time with their true life partner. Not this time, not any of the times they’d been together before.
But something had happened, sure as wave and rock. Something magical, something emotional, something deep as the Marianas Trench.
Just nothing he could put into a normal Donovan context.
Didn’t that just figure?
Chapter Thirteen
The night had turned stormy, full of crashing waves and booming thunder. Snuggled into a cozy bed, warm and safe, Meaghan asked if she could leave the window open so the sounds could wash over her. Roslyn, who’d shown her to the room and gotten her tucked into bed, had chuckled at the request, saying, “You and young Declan are two of a kind.” Meaghan smiled at that. She liked Deck, with his big body and easy laugh and long, silky hair, and could think of far worse things than being compared to him.
Then Roslyn had added something she hadn’t liked at all: “Including erratic magic. His powers are as likely as yours are to misbehave. You at least have the excuse of being as untrained as a child, but with an adult’s power level. He’s simply undisciplined.” Then the old woman paused. “Actually, acushla, I wrong him. That was true when he was a boy, but I suspect he has a different problem now. He has such an odd combination of magics no one could help him integrate them, so things were bound to explode in his face as he was learning. Where magic’s concerned, if you assume something might not work, it often won’t. I think Deck has fallen into that trap. Thanks in part to his parents. Fire witches and ice witches are perfectionists by nature, impatient and intolerant of those who aren’t as quick as they, and Desmond and Sigrid are fire and ice. I hate to speak ill of my only son, but it would have been better for both Desmond’s nerves and Deck’s magic if he’d let someone else train the lad from the get-go.”
“That sounds like an important safety tip, ma’am. I’ll try to be patient with myself. I’m not going to catch up overnight with people who started learning magic as little kids.”
On some level, it was helpful to realize that the Donovans were powerful and good-hearted, but they weren’t infallible. Even Deck’s parents managed to screw up raising a witch kid. The jury was still out as to whether she could forgive her birth parents or wanted to meet them, but that certainly gave Meaghan more sympathy. She must have scared the hell out of them.
Roslyn stroked her hair. “We assigned Declan to teach you out of necessity, but it may be the best thing that’s ever happened to the lad. He’ll have to review the basics to teach you, and that will rebuild his confidence.” To Meaghan’s surprise, Roslyn kissed her cheek and tucked her in the way Meaghan imagined a mother or grandmother would a child.
She supposed her parents must have done similar things when she was still with them, but it was the first time she could remember being tucked in so lovingly.
After Roslyn left—Meaghan heard the click of putting the light out and thought, Force of habit—Meaghan curled up in the bed and listened to the storm outside. The throbbing waves and driving rain soothed her, like water pouring over her spirit, and the wild, untamed sound of thunder called to her as well. She was never able to hear the sounds of nature at the hospital, so those wild sounds were a symbol of her freedom.
She might not have long to enjoy her freedom, but she resolved to seize every second of it.
She just wished she knew how to go about it better, especially where Kyle and Deck were concerned. The memory of Kyle’s kisses aroused her, and he definitely seemed interested—but he’d shied away when she’d offered oral sex, which she thought was what you were supposed to do in such situations. Deck’s laughing voice and big solid body tempted her, and the way he’d kissed and held her this afternoon had definitely not been brotherly. But he and Kyle were together, with a bond she could sense with her magic, which complicated things immensely. She wouldn’t want to do anything to screw that up, especially since she couldn’t hope for more than a fling with either of them. She was too broken for someone like Kyle or Deck, someone strong and healthy and nonevil, to want long term. And she didn’t have a long term to offer, in any case.
Well, that was a depressing thought. Not one she wanted to ponder. The only good thing about growing up as an Agency experimental subject, though, was that she was good at clearing her mind. Using every trick she’d developed in a lifetime of trying to think about anything but her reality, she focused on the sounds of the ocean and the quiet noises of the big house—people moving around, occasional murmurs of speech, laughter and a strange sound she realized after a few seconds was a couple having vigorous sex. No one weeping, no one screaming, no noises in her head, and accompanying all the happy noises of everyday life, the sounds of waves and thunder. Despite bone-deep exhaustion, Meaghan wasn’t sure she could sleep after her crazy day, but the soothing sounds helped her drift into a light slumber.
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