by J P Sayle
“Go to bed, sleep. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast. Remember what I said. You can’t tell anyone what we have discussed.”
Greg gave Aaden an eye roll. “I told you. Who the hell would believe my crazy arse?” Shooing him to the door, Greg watched Aaden give him one final intense sweep of his eyes before he shut the door, leaving Greg sitting like a statue.
Looking down at the leaking cock pushing past the top of his jockstrap, he sighed. There was no way Aaden had missed that. Hell, he’d have to be in serious need of glasses if he had.
Greg headed to the bathroom while shaking his head. A shower, a wank, then maybe he could think about the shit storm that had somehow landed in his lap.
Did Aaden really believe that he could talk to his cat?
It sure as hell sounded like it when he’d thought he’d heard them speaking. Switching on the shower, he waited for it to warm while stripping off his jockstrap. The moan escaped before he could stop it as his fingers brushed the sensitive head.
A wank first, then.
Jumping into the shower, he grabbed the bottle of shower gel the hotel provided. The scent of oranges filled the cubicle as he soaped up his cock, tugging and twisting at the sensitive head. He let his mind focus back to the hot, wet kiss and Aaden’s lips, imagining them in place of his hand. Embarrassingly fast, he shot his load up the wall. He flushed. His legs quaked as he forced them to lock and hold while he quickly washed the important bits before switching off the shower, stepping out, and drying.
A wave of tiredness had him swaying as he stepped into the bedroom. Gripping the doorframe, he waited for the room to steady. He walked slowly to the bed and climbed in. His heated skin warming the cool cotton allowed Aaden’s scent to fill his nose as he inhaled. Pulling the covers closer, he hoped the fragrance would spread over his skin, so he could pretend he was somehow there with him. The idea had his cock twitching in agreement.
As he settled into a ball, he tugged the pillow Aaden had used into his tired body. His brain already shut down as the week and the night finally caught up. Darkness invaded his mind, pulling him away from what he knew would be some very hard questions. Greg gave in, too tired to fight his body, and he let the dark take him.
Max fretted. His whiskers were going to be non-existent if he kept up plucking at them.
Shit, why was it that everything turned to crap, all at the same time?
He had clearly heard Greg ask Aaden why he was talking to his cat.
How the hell can that be?
How can Greg hear Aaden and me talking?
His worries over why he’d never consciously thought about Magnus’s soul releasing until he arrived back on the island had his stomach lurch. The whole avoidance thing he had going on clearly wasn’t working. He had always assumed that when he released Óláfr that Magnus must have been released also. The fact he could still feel Magnus for some reason had never registered. It was almost like he’d been spelled, and now that he really thought about it, it had to be that, surely?
Odin’s Raven, what was this bloody nonsense?
And now Aaden hadn’t even gotten down and dirty with Greg yet, so how the hell was the bond already taking effect?
“Stop questioning everything, Max. You know damn well that the fates on this occasion have changed all the rules because your silly arse broke them to start with. And yes you were spelled. How else could you not have noticed you stupid arse. It was clearly part of your punishment.”
Morgana’s angry hiss had him pause. His whiskers were grateful for the interruption, even if he wasn’t.
“Shut up, Morgana, or at least tell me something I want to hear.” His huffing had him on the receiving end of overexcited laughter.
“Oh my boy, now where would the fun be in that? I’m having far too much fun watching you chase your tailless arse.”
Her laughter faded as he purposefully shut her out.
“Cow bag.”
Max shifted his weight on the uncomfortably hard ground, muttering, wishing for his soft velvet bed in Aaden’s bedroom. The freezing cold December night air ruffled his fur, making him pray to whatever God was listening that Princess would give up sooner rather than later and vacate the tree house. He knew she hated it, didn’t like how the splinters stuck in her fur. But she seemed to like the mind games she was playing. He, on the other hand, was growing wearisome with it all. The fact he was able to read her every thought seemed to make no difference to the level of discomfort she was still able to cause him.
Overlooking how his eyes automatically sought out the glowing blue ones perched above him, he actively disregarded the urge to growl at his own needy behaviour. Aaden’s shouts interrupted his gloomy thinking, and he was pleased for a distraction from his own personal hell.
He spoke to Aaden.
“Did you talk to Greg, explain about what he heard?”
Aaden’s angry retort pulled Max up short.
“Of course, I bloody did. What was I supposed to do when he clearly thinks we’re both insane? I’m not worried about that though, because we have bigger worries. Like, he is having waking nightmares. Fuck, Max, he can see and, I think, feel what happened to Magnus. I think that’s what happened to him back at the club. Hell, Max, the look on his face. It was as if he was living it for real, the pain. Christ, I felt like I was going to lose my shit.”
“Stop, for God’s sake. Spare me the details, Aaden. Odin’s Raven, why do humans feel the need to be so explicit about their bodily functions?”
“Hey, it’s not you having to live this bloody nightmare for real, time and time again.” Aaden’s angry accusation had Max’s hackles rise.
“How dare you? I had to tell that poor soul that his very own soulmate didn’t want him. Then watch as his soulmate cast him into the burning fires of my own personal living hell. I, Aaden, lived it for real, every last scream he yelled, shouting for mercy. So don’t you tell me I haven’t lived with it. I’ve lived it over and over again for eight hundred years, you arsehole.” Max panted.
His claws unsheathed, ready to attack while he struggled to contain his anger and frustration.
“I’m sorry. Shit. Seriously, Max, I’m so sorry. That was really uncalled for and thoughtless.” Aaden’s mumbled apology going a little way to appease his temper.
“It’s okay. Let’s forget it. We will talk when you get back tomorrow and sort this mess out. I will talk with Greg, as you have already told him I will.” His accusation was met with a choked cough, making him chuckle for the first time all evening.
Feeling Aaden slip out of his mind after agreeing to the plan, he plonked his head down. Weariness made him feel every one of his nine hundred years.
It has to get better. It just has to.
Aaden stormed into his showbox, his heart heavy with regret. His own stupid thoughtless words tormented him.
How could I be such an arse?
Of course Max had lived it.
Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking throwing that in his face?
He prowled back and forth across the multicoloured carpet, a whole ten steps and back, wearing a path in the carpet.
Aaden undressed, unable to burn off his frustration in the tiny space. He considered going down to the gym to see if that would help, but seeing the time, he gave up the idea.
Who the fuck would be looking to exercise at three am?
Yeah, that would be numpties. Who had a willing man and then decided it was better to let him think about how crazy I am instead of claiming him as mine?
Now why the fuck would I do that to myself? Why?
Aaden threw himself on the tiny bed. Ominous creaking had his uneasy gaze shift to the bed under him. He was starting to think the tiny bed wasn’t going to withstand the punishment of his weight.
The universe is really kicking my arse tonight. The tiny piece of crap is probably going to collapse, just to add to my misery.
Growling at the ceiling, he pretended that the knobbly cover wasn�
��t stabbing into his naked skin or that the heat in the room wasn’t suffocating him. Instead he made a concerted effort to tense and release his muscles. Clearing his mind, he let his breathing slow, trying not to concentrate on the one muscle that was trying to get his attention.
Nope, not going to go there. I’m not going back down those six floors to where my red beauty is naked, not including a very tiny jockstrap. No, come on for God’s sake. I promised him time to think, and you, my hard friend, will have to wait.
He cast a scowl down his aching body.
His infernal internal voice made him growl in despair.
Fuck, now I’m talking to my own bloody cock.
Aaden palmed his aching cock to divert the voice that was starting to piss him off with its nagging, whiny tone. Using the slick pre-come dripping on to his stomach as lubricant, he groaned as his finger slid over the blushing head, spreading the wetness. Giving in to the pulsing ache in his balls, Aaden used his other hand to cup them and rolled them in the tight, hairless sac. Pleasure coursed through his lower body. He spread his thighs as far as the bed would allow. He cursed up a storm when his knee hit the wall.
He tugged harder on his balls, diverting his attention back to his need to come. Aaden let out a needy moan, riding the high as his large fingers tightened around his length, stroking harder. Wanting hard and fast, he pushed his blunt nail into his slit. His hooded eyes were riveted on the weeping head. As he spread the wetness down the smooth, silky hard flesh, he licked his lips, groaning at the lingering taste of toothpaste and Greg.
The taste transported him back into Greg’s hotel room.
His hands trembled as they reminisced caressing the full length of Greg’s supple, warm legs, covered in soft downy hair as he’d slipped him out of his trousers. He grumbled at his own behaviour, knowing full well he shouldn’t have touched while Greg had been out cold, but he couldn’t seem give a damn.
Those glorious freckles had driven him wild with the urge to take off the tiny jockstrap to see if there were any covering his cock. He’d barely managed to pass the test of restraint when his mind kept telling him he’d gone far enough with the shirt and trousers, and it was way too creepy to take off the jockstrap as well, no matter how much he wanted to.
Not sure how Greg would feel about being totally naked when he woke up, he’d given in and left the jockstrap in place. Instead he’d stripped, thrilled to be able to lay down almost naked with Greg. Feeling the anticipation and desire fizz inside his veins at having his red-haired beauty sprawled across his body, he’d followed his instincts. The size difference made him perfect to tuck Greg’s under his chin and rest his head on his pecs.
Temperateness spread secretly into his chest, warming him inside and out at the feeling of rightness that settled into his heart and soul. Aaden breathed deep. His nose filled with the scent of lemongrass and musky sweat. His body responded, causing him to shift uncomfortably on the knobbly cover beneath him. He was unwilling to give up the pleasure coursing through him, even as his arousal begged for relief.
He concentrated on the memory of soft even puffs of air brushing against his skin and his hope that Greg would wake soon, but he also wanted for the moment to go on forever.
When Greg had woken, the angry flushed skin had clawed at his control, making him struggle to keep a rein on his arousal. He’d been unable to keep the second kiss as light like the first. Instead he’d given in to the demands his heart and soul had commanded and kissed the bejesus out of him.
Aaden’s hand sped up. His eyelids dipped at the memory of how soft and puffy Greg’s lips had been under his, almost like he’d been sucking on Aaden’s cock instead of simply kissing. Images ground the last of his control to dust, and cum shot over his rock-hard abs, hitting his chest. He was sweaty and a sticky mess. His muscles quivered in ecstasy at the violence of his release. Breathlessly, he collapsed into the hard mattress. His large, rough palm gave a final tug on his spent cock.
Lethargy spread like treacle, making his limbs stick to the mattress. His last coherent thought about cleaning up his mess was lost under exhaustion.
Aaden hurried down the hall to the lift, unsure if Greg had already gone down to breakfast. He cussed with every step, his back aching worse than a toothache.
How the hotel could claim a promise of a good night’s sleep was beyond him. That bloody mattress was worse than the air mattress, and that was ruddy hard to beat.
His eyes rolled up.
Okay, maybe I’d slept like the dead, but still, that mattress sucked big time.
The zombieville he’d been living in and the rather spectacular orgasm he’d had before falling asleep, he felt sure, had a lot more to do with his sleep than the lump of concrete the hotel had the cheek to call a mattress.
Tapping his foot, Aaden pressed the button for the lift. As he stepped in, he was glad it was empty not feeling very social, or not for strangers anyway. He jabbed at the button for the lobby, catching sight of his face in the mirrors. The face staring back at him was almost unrecognisable with the big arse grin plastered across it.
“What are you smiling at, you idiot?”
The grin grew, knowing exactly what had him grinning like a crazy fool. Greg. Aaden hoped that what had happened last night hadn’t freaked him out too much or that Greg hadn’t spent too much time last night worrying about it all.
Chewing his lip, he exited the lift went to the dining room and checked the breakfast times. His stomach growled in appreciation at the Saturday breakfast service time finishing at eleven thirty am.
As he stepped into the busy dining room, he searched the occupied tables to see if he could find his red-headed beauty as the waitress in black-fitted shirt and trousers that showed off all her assets stepped towards him, giving him a sultry smile.
“Do you require a table this morning or something else, sir?”
The polite question was at odds with the husky invitation he could see in her eyes. He gave her a quick, polite smile.
Totally barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart. My dick is strictly dickly.
Aaden eyed the large room. The square design and table layout, all lined in perfect symmetry, allowed him to search with ease. Spotting Martin’s dark head bent over his plate in the far corner of the room, next to the large buffet table, Aaden waved off the offer of help.
“No, thank you, I can see my friend.”
Not giving her the chance to follow, he strode swiftly past tables covered with white linen, gleaming silver cutlery, and sparkling glassware. Aaden congratulated himself on not missing his red-headed beauty when he noticed the other intact place settings at Martin’s table as he approached.
“Morning, Martin.”
Speaking as he pulled out the chair, he didn’t miss the look of shock on Martin’s face as he coughed and sputtered over his bacon and scrambled eggs.
“What… what the heck are you doing here?” Martin cast a quick, worried glance behind him, searching the room as he continued to speak. “Does Greg know you’re here?”
Aaden could see understanding dawn in Martin’s eyes before he continued speaking.
“Shit, you’re the giant that left with Greg last night in the club, aren’t you? Ann was so drunk she wasn’t making much sense when we got back from the bar. But she seemed pretty sure Greg had willingly left with a giant, tattooed God. That, I suppose, was you. But my question is, was it willingly? You’ve done nothing but give fucking mixed messages. Fuck, Morse code is easier to understand than your signals, Aaden. Please tell me you’re not fucking with Greg. He’s a good guy and doesn’t need someone trying to mess with him.” Martin shut up, feeling he may have said too much. His fingers rubbing at his temples, trying to ease the hangover he’d hoped breakfast would shift.
Martin took a deep inhale as Aaden’s predatory smile flashed into his eyes. Fuck, he’s a gorgeous bastard when he lets that smile loose.
“You need to temper that fucking smile back a bit if you don’t wa
nt Greg to think he’s prey.”
Aaden chuckled.
“Greg already knows what my intentions are, so you needn’t worry.”
The quiet statement had Martin pinch his brows together. Waiting for it, Aaden was not disappointed when Martin went into protective mode.
“What happened last night? Did you take advantage of Greg? I’m telling you I can still kick your arse if …...”
“Nobody is kicking anyone’s arse unless it’s me.”
The growled response coming from behind them had Aaden whipping his head round at the same time as Martin. They squirmed in unison under the blazing heat Greg was firing at them.
Martin shut his mouth, feeling heat spread across his cheekbones as Greg gave him a “mind your own business” stare before he turned his thunderous blue eyes to Aaden. Martin had a feeling there were going to be fireworks when sparks shot out of Greg’s eyes directly at Aaden.
Poor sod.
Sitting back grinning, Martin got ready to enjoy the show.
“Now, what was that you were saying about your intentions and me knowing what they were? Hmmm, I think I distinctly remember somebody telling me to think about things while you left me with a raging hard-on. Sailing out of the room like your shit doesn’t stink. There was, at no point that I can remember, anything discussed about intentions.”
Greg’s small, pointy chin and pouty lips shoved into Aaden’s face, making him grit his teeth to prevent taking a big bite, right there in front of everyone. The loud outburst had the full attention of the dining room shifting to them. The flush raising up Aaden’s neck infuriated him. He had never showed any outward display of affection, anger, lust, or any type of emotion that he could recall, but now it seemed that Greg thought that should change.
Unsure how he felt about that, he stood, towering over Greg. Irresolute of his intentions, the next thing he knew his mouth was plastered to Greg’s.
Shocked into stillness by his own actions, Aaden floundered. Indecision warred with the deep-seated need to keep kissing Greg till he was moaning and withering all over him, making Greg forget his angry outburst.