Paranormal's Love 11 - Hot-Blooded Alligator

by Charlie Richards

  Another breeze kicked up, and the human’s scent flowed across his sensitive senses.

  Mate!

  Tristan slowly swam closer, the grass parting around him as excitement coursed through him. After so many years of solitude, Fate finally brought his mate to him. Tristan admired the detective again, anticipation flooding him.

  “Ah, there he is,” Maelgwn said, pointing at him. “Tristan, we need to talk to you.”

  “What?” The detective looked in Tristan’s general direction. “Where?”

  Tobias pointed toward him, too, as Tristan swam through the water toward the end of the dock where the detective stood. He wanted to be closer to the human, but didn’t want to freak him out, either. He’d heard the clutch had an in with the local human police, but he’d never heard just how knowledgeable and accepting he was.

  “Holy shit! It’s a fucking alligator,” the detective exclaimed.

  “That’s Tristan,” Maelgwn stated. “He’s the shifter we need to talk to about Mister Wallice.”

  Watching closely as he glided along the side of the dock, Tristan noted the myriad of emotions crossing the detective’s face. Fear first, followed by interest, wonder, and finally curiosity. The detective’s mouth opened just a bit and he licked his lower lip.

  Good. I can work with that.

  “I’ve never been this close to one,” the human said, lowering to one knee on the dock. His fingers twitched where they rested on his knee. For all the world, the guy appeared to be fighting his desire to reach out and touch him...and losing considering how he leaned closer.

  Tobias reached down and clamped his clawed hand on the human’s shoulder. “Careful, DeSoto,” the gargoyle second warned. “He’s not a touchy-feely guy.”

  Tristan hissed at seeing the gargoyle’s hand on his mate, keeping the human from touching him. He’d have allowed...DeSoto to touch him. He’d lie still for petting from this human all day long.

  “Please shift, Tristan,” Maelgwn urged. “We need to speak with you.”

  Knowing it wasn’t really a request, and wanting to speak with the detective, Tristan rolled to his back and began to shift. He felt more than heard his bones cracking, his tendons popping, and the stretch and pull of muscle shifting and reforming. Taking a deep breath, Tristan sank in the water as he felt the last of the change sweep over him.

  Tristan moved his arms and cupped his hands, pressing against the water to bring him back to the surface. Reaching the top, he opened his eyes to find a gaping human staring down at him. He didn’t miss the way his mate’s gaze swept over his naked, floating form, stopping at his groin. Tristan felt his dick twitch and thicken at the attention.

  Humming, Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I’ll let you pet me anytime, sweets,” he purred.

  The detective’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared and his focus moved to Tristan’s face, meeting his gaze.

  Tristan winked.

  Maelgwn cleared his throat, gaining Tristan’s attention. The gargoyle leader’s brows were drawn. “Tristan,” he rumbled slowly. “Just as you warned, people have come looking for Bud Wallice. We have things to discuss.”

  Hissing softly at the interruption, Tristan nodded. He bent at the waist and lowered his legs, finding footing on the soft bed of the pond. Standing fully, the water hit about mid-thigh and he unashamedly strode to the bank.

  Tristan crossed to a small stand of trees a few feet away. Reaching into a bag hanging on a broken branch, he pulled out a pair of sweats. Completely uncaring of his nudity, he returned to the pond’s edge and washed the mud from his toes before threading his wet feet into the sweats.

  After pulling them up, allowing them to rest low on his slender hips, Tristan turned to the group. His gaze riveted on the detective. Pleasure filled him upon seeing the slight flush on the human’s cheeks and how he flared his nostrils.

  Ignoring the gargoyles for the moment, Tristan walked between them to stand before his mate. He smirked up at the man, pleased to see his guess was right. About six foot one, a couple of inches taller than Tristan’s own five foot eleven stature. He liked a man who had a little height on him. It always made it interesting when he took him down.

  Tristan held out his hand. “So nice to meet you, Detective,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”

  “Collin DeSoto,” the man responded almost absently as he reached out and took Tristan’s hand.

  “Collin,” Tristan rumbled. “Hmmm, nice.”

  Instead of shaking the other man’s hand, Tristan gripped it securely and tugged upward. He smirked at the surprised look on Collin’s face as he brought it to his mouth. Tristan kissed the back of his mate’s hand lightly, then lowered their hands to his chest.

  “When we are done discussing the bastard, Bud,” Tristan began, keeping his tone low and smooth, “you and I need to discuss our future.”

  Collin licked his lips. His chest heaved. He glanced down at their clasped hands, then back to Tristan’s eyes. His cheeks pinked a bit more. Still, he didn’t try to pull away.

  “Why?”

  Tristan smiled at the softly breathed word. “Because you are my mate, sweets.” He lowered his lids to half-mast and peered up at the man he planned to make his lover...the sooner the better. “I’ve waited a long time for you.”

  His jaw gaping, Collin’s eyes widened. “M-Mate?”

  Tristan squeezed his mate’s hand. “My mate.”

  Collin shook his head once, twice, snapping his jaw shut. He finally tugged at his hand and Tristan released him. “B-But I’m not gay,” he whispered sharply, taking a step backward.

  Tristan sucked in a deep breath, scenting the man...bitter shock, acrid fear, but under that...musky, heady-smelling arousal. A lie. Huh. Narrowing his gaze, he glanced down at Collin’s groin, finding a very full crotch show-casing a hard prick.

  Nice.

  Returning his focus to Collin’s widely dilated eyes, Tristan rolled one shoulder. He grinned. “We will see, Collin. We will see.”

  Refusing to listen to any more words of denial from his mate, Tristan turned and settled on one of the two benches nailed onto the large dock. He placed his arm along the back of the seat and spread his legs wide, relaxing.

  “Now then,” Tristan began. “Bud Wallice.” He tilted his head and stared at Collin. Thinking of the man, he knew his features hardened. “He has information that we need to save paranormals. Until he gives it up, he stays here. After that—” He paused and shrugged, trying to accept an outcome that didn’t end in the bastard’s death. Finding out his mate was a detective...a man of the law...well, that changed things. Sort of. “What happens to him will depend on his mindset,” he mused. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Collin gaped for all of two seconds, then he snapped his jaw shut and stalked toward him. He glared and pointed a finger at him, waving it almost under his nose. “You can’t hold humans against their will. And you can’t torture anyone.”

  Tristan eyed his larger, clearly upset mate. His dark brows were furrowed, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes glowed with intensity.

  Hmm, stunning.

  Leaning forward, Tristan wrapped his lips around his mate’s finger. He watched Collin gape as he sucked lightly, tasting salt and flesh. When his mate’s eyes dilated and his musky arousal permeated the air, Tristan released his digit with a pop and leaned back on the bench again.

  Still holding Collin’s gaze, Tristan replied, “He is not being tortured, but yes, he is being held against his will.” He curved up the corner of the right side of his mouth as he added, “In fact, his accommodations are in the four star category. Far nicer than anything he held us in.”

  Collin’s jaw opened and closed a couple of times before he managed to sputter, “You still can’t hold people!”

  Tristan sighed. He hated that his first conversation with his mate was an argument. Nothing in his life had ever been easy, so why would this be?

  “Coll
in, my mate,” he stated, deepening his voice on purpose. “Bud Wallice captured or bought our people like slaves. He treated us like animals. When we were rescued, he came after us with mercenaries. Mercenaries with guns.” He hardened his voice as he continued, “He kidnapped several of the clutch’s mates to use as bait, and when we rescued them, too, he shot at Maelgwn and instead hit one of his own...who is still in critical condition, I might add.” He growled softly as an understanding expression slowly lit Collin’s eyes. “Bud Wallice is our enemy. His allies are our enemies. He is a prisoner of war.”

  Collin must have belatedly realized he still held his finger before Tristan, for he drew his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. He looked toward Maelgwn and asked, “This is your stance?”

  “It is,” Maelgwn agreed. “Somehow, Bud and some others found out about our kind. We need to know who and how many.”

  Tobias growled. “If we let him go now, he’d just be back here with more guns and more men, putting everyone in danger.” He narrowed his dark eyes, his expression hardening as he snarled, “My mate has been through enough. I’ll never allow that to happen. Even if it means Bud’s death.”

  Collin stiffened, his shoulders tensing. Tristan could see the outline of his hands fisted inside his pockets as his jaw clenched. The acrid scent of fear intensified.

  Okay, it looked like his mate knew about gargoyles and shifters—worked with them even, from what Tristan had heard—but wasn’t completely comfortable.

  Tristan hoped he could change that as protective instincts he’d never felt before flooded him.

  Glaring at Tobias, Tristan slowly rose to his feet and placed his body between Tobias and his mate. He hissed a warning at the second. Just because he was smaller than either male didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own...and no one was going to speak to his mate that way.

  “We will discover a way to work this out,” Tristan growled, still glaring at Tobias. Then, he turned his attention to Maelgwn. “I ask permission to be left alone with my mate. Obviously we have much to discuss.”

  Maelgwn hummed softly, his lips pinching. “You do indeed.” Resting his hand on Tobias’ shoulder, he urged his second-in-command to turn and begin heading off the dock. Before he followed, Maelgwn ordered, “Keep me posted on the Bud front. As soon as he starts talking, let me know.” As he strode away, Maelgwn grumbled, “I have a feeling this is going to impact more than my clutch.”

  Tristan couldn’t help agreeing with the gargoyle.

  Instead of saying that out loud, Tristan turned back to Collin. He found the man staring over his head at the retreating gargoyles, his hands shoved in his pockets, and a scowl on his face.

  Deciding that wouldn’t do at all, Tristan stepped in close to him. He brushed his own chest against Collin’s jacket-clad one. Reaching up with both hands, he settled one on his upper arm and the other on his mate’s jaw, curling his fingers around to the back of his skull.

  Using shifter strength, Tristan flexed his fingers and urged his mate to bow his head the couple of inches needed for their lips to meet. He tightened his hold on Collin’s arm, tilted his head, and slotted their mouth’s more firmly together.

  Tristan hummed at the firm press of Collin’s mouth against his own. After nipping his mate’s bottom lip lightly, he swiped his tongue along the plump flesh. He soothed the sting he knew he’d caused.

  Collin grunted at the play.

  The release of noise caused Collin’s mouth to open just a bit, and Tristan took full advantage. He thrust his tongue forward, sliding it between Collin’s lips, forcing his mouth open wider. Sweeping his tongue around his mate’s cavity, he searched for his soon-to-be lover’s tongue. Finding the slick appendage, Tristan moved his own tongue against it, teasing and coaxing, then retreating, before doing it again.

  With a groan of surrender, Collin brought his arms up and wrapped them tightly around Tristan. He felt one hand slide into his wet hair and grip tightly, almost to the point of pain. His mate’s other hand landed on his ass, cupping one cheek and dragging him closer, pressing their bodies together.

  As Collin tongue-fucked Tristan’s mouth, he rocked their groins together. Groaning, Tristan shamelessly took advantage, rubbing his thick erection against his mate’s answering hardness. He reveled in the strength and power thrumming through Collin, power his human must normally keep so carefully in check.

  Tristan wanted to be the one to unleash it.

  Chapter Four

  Collin moaned as lust and need surged through his body. He thrust his tongue repeatedly into the smaller man’s mouth, plundering and claiming. His body nearly vibrated with barely restrained control as he tasted him over and over, enjoying the man’s natural masculine flavor.

  Even knowing he must be pulling Tristan’s hair, Collin couldn’t seem to ease his grip. He did manage to release his too-tight hold on his ass, but only so he could shove his hand into his loose sweats. Collin dug his fingers into Tristan’s crack, searching for his hole.

  When Collin found the other man’s entrance, he wasted no time dipping his middle finger in to the first knuckle. Hot, tight pressure clamped down on him. Collin’s cock ached and blind desire to replace his finger with his dick boiled through his veins.

  Tristan growled into Collin’s mouth and sucked on his tongue. The dragging pulls on his appendage sent a zing straight down his spine, settling in his balls. His hips bucked as he felt his balls pull close to his body.

  With a moan, Collin managed to lift his head. He sucked in a much needed lungful of air, his chest heaving. Staring into the heavily dilated eyes of the man he held—an alligator shifter no less—all he could think about was how he wanted to fuck him.

  Collin slid his finger deeper into the other man’s hole, hitting his second knuckle. Tristan hummed, seeming to relish what had to be a dry burn. Seeing the smaller man’s heavily dilated eyes and deeply flushed cheeks, Collin read the pleasure all over his face.

  “Want your ass so fucking bad,” Collin admitted roughly. “You gonna give it to me?”

  Tristan grinned up at him. “Thought you’d never ask, sweets.” He slid his attention to the right, down the line of the dock. “There’s lube in that bag. If you want me to get it, you gotta release me.”

  Collin snarled as unreasonable jealousy flooded him. Instead of releasing Tristan, he tightened his grip in his hair as he shoved his finger the rest of the way into the man. “Who you fucking out here?”

  Tristan panted harshly for a few seconds before answering in a lust-drunk slurred voice. “Not had sex in thirty-seven years, Collin.” He rocked his hips, pressing his erection against Collin’s repeatedly. “Lots of gargoyles with mates. Bags of clothes and lube all over the grounds.”

  The mention of mates reminded Collin of what Tristan had claimed earlier. They were mates. He knew it had something to do with their belief of one special soul-mate provided by Fate. It was something pretty damn important to them.

  Still, Collin wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tap this man’s ass. He couldn’t imagine going thirty-seven years without sex. His dick would fall off from disuse...or endless masturbating. Then, he imagined how tight his soon-to-be lover’s channel must be.

  Holy Mary! I need to feel that.

  Finally, Collin managed to pull his hands away from Tristan. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll get the lube.”

  The idea of Tristan walking across the dock, then the short expanse of the bank to the trees, while naked had him seeing red. While he knew it was a completely ridiculous reaction, he barely knew the man and the guy had already done it...in front of two gargoyles no less, it didn’t lessen the feeling one bit.

  Collin yanked off his jacket, tossing it on a bench as he strode past it. He jogged to the tree where he’d seen Tristan pull the sweats from a bag. Searching quickly with one hand, he pressed the heel of his other hand to the base of his erection. He’d never been so hard, and he worried he’d end up with zipper tracks on his dick.<
br />
  Not good.

  With a growl of satisfaction, Collin wrapped his hands around the small tube of lubricant. He turned and swiftly made his way back to his waiting lover. When he focused on Tristan, he nearly tripped over his own two feet as his eyes almost popped out of his skull.

  Tristan had removed his sweats. After spreading them out on the dock planks, he’d rested his knees and elbows on them. He arched his back and spread his legs, putting his ass on perfect display.

  Moaning, Collin closed the gap. He popped the cap off the lube with one hand while yanking open the belt, button, and zipper of his slacks. After shoving them and his boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock and balls—unable to withhold a sigh of relief as he did so—Collin dropped to his knees behind the sexy man.

  Collin held out a hand, intending to rest it on the pale globe in front of him when he realized his hand shook. He flexed it a couple of times, trying to calm himself. Then poured a dollop of slick on his fingers before drizzling some onto his shaft.

  Grunting at the chill, Collin swiped it over himself. At least the cold eased his tightening balls’ need to come. Then, he set the tube aside and gripped his new lover’s ass cheek, pulling it sideways away from the other.

  Collin groaned at the sight of the man’s tight, brown pucker.

  Reaching out with his lubed hand, Collin feathered a fingertip over the hole he wanted to plug. Tristan hissed and, if possible, managed to cant his hips higher, pressing into Collin’s touch. Seeing that as the permission it was, Collin slid his finger deep inside the other man.

  Tristan grunted. His channel rippled around Collin’s digit. His own prick jerked and twitched in eager anticipation of feeling that around his erection. He pulled his finger out and in, then out and pressed two into Tristan.

  Rocking back into his rhythmic stretching, Tristan moaned. He peered over his shoulder at him with a feral expression. Desire easily readable on his flushed features.