A Shadow of Wings

by Gayle, Linda

  Perhaps he did make a small sound, for Dylan reached down and ran his hand over Cam’s dick under his fly. “No worries, sweetheart. Just a couple more minutes.” Then he got up and walked away. He was a beautiful man, Cam thought breathlessly. Whatever he’d been through in the past, now Dylan’s body was lean and hard, ropy with muscle. The tail of the phoenix trailed over his left shoulder, ending in a loop, scaled so much like the tail of a cockatrice it sent a jolt through Cam. Maybe…Dylan wouldn’t mind. If he liked phoenixes… He trailed his hand down his own chest and pushed it under his shirt to lay his palm against his hot skin and beating heart.

  No. This was what Dylan thought he was, what Dylan wanted. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment as if breaking. And that strange cramp twisted in his gut again, causing him to draw up one leg.

  “You okay?”

  Of course Dylan would have to see that. “Yes, fine.” He forcefully relaxed his squint of discomfort. “I just can’t wait. That’s all.”

  “Good.” Dylan held up the lube. He also had a couple of condoms in his other palm. “Do we need these?”

  Cam shook his head. “I trust you.”

  Dylan pointed a finger at him. “That’s okay that you trust me, but don’t ever trust nobody else, okay? Promise me.”

  “There won’t be anyone else.”

  “You don’t know that,” he muttered, frowning, then threw the condoms aside. He went to his knees on the mattress beside Cam. “Even though I think about you with someone else and I feel like killing something.”

  Cam felt his wings expand on a surge of delight, a brief tingling beneath the skin of his shoulder blades. Dylan’s eyes brightened, and his gaze moved across Cam’s chest. “You like that, huh? I can tell.”

  “I like that I don’t have to hide from you.” He stretched his arms out to the sides, then above his head, his skin so sensitive from being horny, he felt like he could burst. “What do they look like?”

  “Just shadows. Wing-shaped shadows. But like gauze, like if I put my hand out, they’d tear.” Dylan stroked Cam’s thigh while he gazed thoughtfully down at him. His eyebrows drew together. “Sometimes I see kind of a glow over your head too. Tell me that’s not a halo.”

  “Hardly. No, it’s…they say it’s our soul. Only…normal people shouldn’t be able to see it.”

  One lowered eyebrow arched wryly. “Nobody’s ever accused me of being normal.”

  Cam swallowed, then said, “Do you believe in souls?”

  “Sure. I guess.” Dylan’s eyes followed the lazy path of his hand down Cam’s leg. “I think we all got something we can lose, if we’re not careful. Something worth hanging on to. Soul’s as good as word for it as anything.”

  Digesting that, Cam nodded once. Then squirmed beneath the pressure of Dylan’s palm. If only he’d stroke a little lower. God, that hand over his thigh, even through his jeans, felt so hot and strong. He licked his lips. “Please, Dylan…” Maybe letting his thighs fall open would give him the hint? “We could talk philosophy later.”

  He huffed a laugh. “I guess we could. Got something else in mind you wanna do?”

  Scootching down enough to loosely grasp Dylan’s erection, he murmured, “I had a few thoughts.”

  “Mmm, baby.” Closing his fingers over Cam’s, Dylan squeezed his cock with both their hands. “Aw, shit, that’s good. I’m so fucking hard just looking at you, you don’t even got to touch me.”

  When Dylan let him go, Cam rubbed his palm over the smear of precum leaking from Dylan’s cock. His mouth watered. “Can I suck you?” he asked, his voice a rough plea.

  “Maybe in a bit.” He nudged Cam’s hand away. “Enough of that for now. Let’s get you unveiled, beautiful.” Setting the lube aside, he worked on the button of Cam’s jeans, then pushed up Cam’s T-shirt and pressed kisses all over Cam’s chest. The sensation of warm, wet lips on his skin made Cam writhe, and when Dylan’s tongue dragged a circle around his nipple, he couldn’t help a moan.

  “You’re a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” Dylan said in a husky whisper.

  God, how he loved that rasp in Dylan’s voice. It was the sound of sex, fierce and urgent. Digging the fingers of one hand into Dylan’s hair and sucking a drop of cum off the thumb of the other hand, Cam moaned again, shamelessly this time. Releasing Dylan’s hair, he bunched the cloth of his T-shirt, pulling it up so Dylan could have full access to his chest, to his nipples, to whatever he wanted. His skin burned. Dylan’s tongue cooled it, then inflamed it all over again.

  His tee seemed to float off him, and his jeans whisked off his legs with some coaxing from Dylan’s hands, and then he was naked except for his chain. Knowing his wings spread in hazy pools around him, knowing Dylan saw the dim glow of his soul, Cam lay utterly bare before his lover, in a way no ’trice had been since he who was both first and last of his kind lay in submission before his conquering knight.

  And like that knight, Dylan could slay Cam now, with just a word. A lump rose in his throat. “Dylan…”

  Dylan has risen to his knees again and sat gazing down at Cam, looking at all of him. Cam couldn’t interpret his expression. Was he pleased? Revolted? Appalled?

  Every instinct cried out to hide what he was. With concentration, he could mask his wings, enclose his soul again within his guise. But he had to trust in this. Whatever this was between them. His heart drummed. He’d be a fool not to prepare for rejection. “Dylan,” he whispered again.

  Blue eyes met his. Serious eyes. “Damn, baby. You are so beautiful.”

  Cam could breathe again. You might not say that if you saw what I really am, he wanted to say. Instead, he murmured, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The flash of Dylan’s quick, cocky grin broke the serious mood, as if he realized things were getting too intense. With a firm hand, he pushed Cam’s thighs apart, then bent to grasp Cam’s dick and slide his hot tongue up the underside.

  Gasping sharply, he lifted his hips into the delicious sensation. Tangling his fingers again into Dylan’s hair, he hissed.

  “Don’t come too soon,” Dylan warned. “I got plans for you.”

  His entire body shuddered under a new onslaught of lips and tongue. “I can’t promise anything. Oh my God, that’s…amazing.”

  The response was a full-on suck down to the root while Dylan’s fingers toyed with Cam’s balls. Once again, he thanked whatever angel had whispered in the ear of God and convinced Him to give a cockatrice a full male body. How awful it would be to have the weasel’s shadowy shape, never fully formed. But Cam was flesh and bone, and Dylan seemed to know every sensitive spot on his body, now sucking his nuts while his hand jacked his dick. “I can’t…” Cam gasped out.

  “Nuh-uh. Not yet. I told you.” Dylan stopped, squeezing his fist hard around the base of Cam’s cock. With a practiced eye, he seemed to judge Cam’s condition, then resumed the delicious torture. Somehow he knew each time Cam balanced on the brink of coming, and each time he’d back off. His body on fire, layered in a fine sheen of sweat, Cam had to bunch his hands into tight fists on either side of his head to keep from seizing his cock and finishing the job.

  “Please,” he panted. “I can’t take any more.”

  Dylan kissed the inside of Cam’s thigh, then licked his way around his balls one more time before he lifted his head and his hand away. “All right, you’re ready, I think.”

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He liked that slippery little smile. He also liked that Dylan had the lube out. He unscrewed it, squeezed some onto his finger. But instead of prepping Cam, he reached around and fingered himself.

  His hair falling over his closing eyes, his wet, swollen lips slightly parted as he breathed, Dylan was Cam’s every wet dream come to life. Greedy, he reached out and slid his fingers over his lover’s dick, imagining Dylan pumping his slick digit into his own ass. His breath caught—did this mean…?

  Dy
lan’s eyes opened and held his as he slicked lube over Cam’s aching rod in languorous strokes that only ramped up Cam’s need. “You wanna fuck me tonight?”

  “Can I?” he blurted, nearly whimpering from the ecstasy of Dylan’s lightly closed fist running up and down his cock.

  Dylan’s low laughter rumbled. “We’re gonna fuck each other. You’ll see.” With that, he tossed the lube, then moved to straddle Cam’s hips, knees on either side. Biting his lip, Dylan gripped Cam’s cock and positioned it. Cam felt everything—the hot, slippery trap of Dylan’s fingers; the slight prickle of hair as Dylan began to lower onto him; the tight kiss of Dylan’s opening against the tip of his cockhead.

  And then… Pressure and heat and oh my God Dylan was taking him in.

  Helplessly, Cam tossed back his head, grasping Dylan’s thighs as he forced his way down. Suddenly, the tightness eased, and Dylan responded with an audible exhale. His thighs were like iron beneath Cam’s fingers, trembling, but his body, oh his body was like sweet melted butter around his dick, soft, soft skin and insistent muscle. And then he lowered fully onto Cam’s hips with a smile the devil himself would be proud of.

  “How’s that?” he asked. As if he needed to.

  “Like heaven,” Cam whispered.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Biting his lip, Dylan raised himself, then settled again. The muscles in his abdomen rippled.

  Cam’s toes curled hard. He arched his hips, seeking more of that unbearably good friction. “Ahh. Oh fuck. Do that again.”

  He did, easing down with a breath hissed through his lips. “Like that?”

  “More…”

  He did again, the silky suction of his body caressing Cam’s hypersensitive nerves. He leaned forward, his hands on Cam’s chest, fingertips toying with Cam’s nipples while he pumped himself up and down, slow and deliberate. Now Cam could touch him everywhere. The sweat-sprung back, the ribs, the tender nape, the mouth, which came down on his in a beautifully soft kiss.

  Their tongues played while their bodies found an unhurried rhythm. Instinct guided Cam. He listened for soft gasps and murmurs while he nibbled Dylan’s ear and bit his shoulder. When he reached between them and wrapped his hand around his lover’s cock, Dylan lifted again slightly, perhaps to give him more room. Dylan’s scruffy cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed beneath thick lashes.

  “Is it good?” Cam asked. “I mean… I just…”

  “It’s perfect. It’s everything I ever wanted. Like Christmas every fucking day.” Leaning back, he put his hands on Cam’s thighs, never stopping the rhythm that dragged Cam inevitably closer to orgasm. His body shook with it. Sparks of pleasure winged through him. Only the wonder and novelty of the situation broke his concentration enough to hold off.

  Panting and muttering, Dylan worked himself on Cam’s cock, and Cam worked his hand over Dylan’s. His palm dampened with precum. The head of Dylan’s dick butted from his closed fist, dark red and slick. Yes, Dylan was close too. Bliss, sheer bliss and heat and light filled him, and when Dylan bent forward again, he carefully closed his eyes lest his gaze harm him. He lifted his head for the kiss and the sliding of tongues, gripping Dylan’s sweaty, hard shoulder with his free hand. The salt of sweat burned his lips; the scent of Dylan’s skin filled his nostrils, the sweetest aphrodisiac.

  “Look at me, Cam,” Dylan demanded. When Cam tried to turn away, Dylan gripped his chin. “It’s okay. I want this.”

  Impossible. “I can’t. I’m…feeling too much. I might hurt you.”

  “You can’t hurt me. You won’t.” A slight shake of his jaw. “Trust me like I trust you.”

  Trust. Yes.

  He opened his eyes. Dylan’s were inches away, staring straight into his, huge and blue. Cam’s heartbeat throbbed through his entire body, culminating in his cock, caressed by Dylan’s inner muscles. Hot and sticky, Dylan’s dick pushed into his palm. But his entire world melted into Dylan’s gaze. Trust.

  Was it possible?

  “Make me come,” Dylan growled. “And don’t stop looking at me.”

  One, two, three firm strokes, and Cam felt Dylan’s body clenching, pulling at Cam’s cock as he gasped. Cam’s hips lifted as the rush hit him. It took all his will not to close his eyes. Trust. Instead, sucking in breaths, he stared into Dylan’s open gaze, baring everything. Risking everything.

  Praying he wouldn’t kill his lover.

  Finding he could trust after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They had a few days together, probably the best of Dylan’s life. They slept together, fucked like bunnies, and spent the afternoons roaming the city and visiting Dylan’s favorite haunts.

  One night, Cam even invited Manuela over to cook with him. The old lady had never looked happier, clearly charmed by Cam’s manner and apparently fluent Spanish as they made all sorts of awesome Mexican food in Dylan’s tiny kitchen with the help of some appliances borrowed from Manuela’s place. They’d made Dylan knock on Jose’s door with a peace offering of guacamole and a dinner invitation. Since Dylan only had the air mattress to offer for seating, they set up dishes at Manuela’s battered kitchen table. Jose contributed some Dos Equis. Though he ate a ton, Jose still refused to talk to Dylan in more than one-or two-word answers and gave him only a grudging nod when he left. Cam assured Dylan it was progress, and Manuela looked like ten years had dropped off her, she was so happy. For sure it had been a night to remember.

  Despite that and the rare joy of having a guy around he cared about, Dylan found himself getting more and more miserable. Whether it was because he was having to face his feelings for Cam or because he couldn’t stop thinking about Cam leaving, he couldn’t say, but this morning, after another night of incredible sex and not enough sleep, he decided to sneak out for a run. Didn’t matter that it was nearly six a.m., or that Cam lay warm and sound asleep beside him. The candles had died out long ago, and only the palest light washed in through the window. The sound of distant traffic reminded Dylan he wasn’t quite the last man on earth. Although lately he felt…different. Separate from all that humanity just outside.

  He’d changed.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, breathing in the fresh cotton scent of the brand-new sheets they laid over the mattress after they’d given the old sleeping bag its final ride, he trailed his fingertips lightly through Cam’s hair and studied his peaceful face. Those full lips Dylan had practically worshiped the last few days curved up at the corners. He’d seen that sweet expression somewhere else before. Oh yeah, on a baby—a well-fed, well-loved baby who’d fallen asleep in his stroller on a sunny day in the park.

  Who knew why, but that image rose fresh in his mind, and he remembered feeling a pang of envy that anyone could be so utterly content and confident of their place in the universe.

  Had Dylan given Cam that smile? Given him good dreams? Carefully, he leaned down and brushed his lips over Cam’s. Cam sighed and rolled toward him, flopping an arm over Dylan’s hip. Damn, this guy was precious. He drew the sheet up over Cam’s bare shoulder. It was getting colder in here. And he didn’t want Cam to wake up when he left.

  He was too restless to stay in bed. He kept thinking about Cam and what he was, or wasn’t, and now those weird weasel things. What Cam had told him only made him more curious—and jumpy. He’d felt the malice radiating from that one that had been staring at him a few days back.

  Now, Dylan sometimes felt as if he were being watched. If he went out in the afternoon to look for work, his skin prickled when he passed a shadowy spot, or he’d hear a skittering noise from an alley. Cam hadn’t mentioned them again. Although Cam was happy enough to share stories of his travels with Tash, and Dylan amused him with tales of his mischievous past, they said no more about the strange thing Dylan had seen. Most of all, they avoided the topic of Cam leaving. Maybe Cam couldn’t face it either.

  As if Dylan’s troubled thoughts had invaded his dreams, Cam tossed and muttered, his quiet expression disappearing beneath lowering brows. His hand s
lid from Dylan’s waist to his own stomach, as if he was in pain, and he drew up his knees into a fetal position. Concerned, Dylan touched the back of his hand to Cam’s forehead. He didn’t feel hot. But he did look uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time Dylan had caught him wincing, and if Cam noticed, he was quick to mask it.

  Maybe he was sore. God knew Dylan was. Whatever Cam was, he sure as hell had a healthy dick and a raging sexual appetite to go along with it. A tremor of heat flushed over Dylan as he thought back on riding Cam’s cock, the thick pressure of it shoved inside him, or entering Cam with delicious leisure, filling him until he couldn’t take any more.

  And coming, oh hell yeah… Looking into those eyes was like falling over a cliff into the heart of the sun. Cam had been reluctant to keep his eyes open at first, but every time since had gotten easier, and more meaningful. Each time they fucked, Dylan could swear his soul left his body, and Cam’s too. The wings swept up around them, and they existed in their own private enclave of shadow and sensation and just…each other.

  Maybe not all of his soul had come back. Felt like some of it had stayed with Cam.

  Funny, he’d never really thought about shit like that before. He’d been pretty convinced there wasn’t a scrap of immortality in him, just cold flesh going through the movements. Guess now he was convinced he had a soul, and it was tangled up with Cam’s pretty darned good. This guy was making him think about a lot of things he didn’t normally. Like the meaning of life, and whether there was a god or heaven or fate or destiny… All that philosophical bullshit.

  He made Dylan wonder if maybe there was a chance he could erase the lost years and be the person he should have been all along. There’d been a time he’d had a vision for his future. When he’d wanted to study music, travel the world. Have a lover, a partner in that life…

  Surprised to realize he was cupping Cam’s face with his palm and gazing at him with nothing less than adoration, Dylan carefully drew back his hand, then slid out from under the sheets and stood. He took a short, sharp breath and collected himself. A shiver ran through him, not just from the chill in the air. This was too much change at once. He needed to get out, run off his jitters.