Broken Pieces

by Deja Black

  “Was that a purr, Remi? Oh, my, you’re really into this woman,” she laughed throatily over the phone.

  No, it wasn’t any woman he was thinking of, and maybe now was the time to let it be said.

  “Debbie Cakes—”

  Deborah’s laugh was a gathering of wind chimes, ringing lightly across his ear. “Oh, we’re pulling out childhood nicknames, Remi Martin? This has to be big. Give it to me. I’m ready.”

  “Well,” Remi paused.

  “Out with it. Cas will be here soon, and I don’t want to have to wait until later to hear whatever it is that has you choking up like this.” It wasn’t typical for Remi to second guess himself. He believed in just letting it go and moving on. But, this? This would be big to his family, big to his little sister.

  Still, if they were his family before, they would be his now, wouldn’t they? Sadly, he and his dad were on shaky ground as it was. How many more waves could they stand?

  “Remi? At least tell me her name.”

  Well, if that wasn’t an opening. “Her name?” He paused. “Peter.”

  “Peter?” Deborah echoed. “Is Peter short for something?”

  “Nope, little sis, it’s not.”

  “Maybe her parents decided to give her a boy’s name, a protest against gender identity?” She was reaching, and he understood.

  “No, Debbie Cakes. Peter’s a man.”

  Silence. He may have heard her swallow but nothing else. In the background, a door opened and closed. A male voice asked a muffled question. Eventually, the phone was taken away, and Cas was on the line.

  Castille Morneau’s voice was a rumble on the phone as he spoke. “Remi.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, man. I think your sister needs a moment here.”

  “Okay. I get that.” Remi sighed. He didn’t know what to think, what she thought. “Tell her I love her?”

  “She says the same, babe. Let me take care of her for now. She’ll call you later. Promise.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Cas.”

  “Anytime, little bro.”

  Cas hung up the phone, but it wasn’t long before Remi’s phone blipped with a text message.

  Love you, Remi Martin. Just give me a sec. K?

  Remi sighed and sent a text back.

  K. Love you always, Debbie Cakes.

  It hadn’t taken long to drive to Peter’s place. Remi stood at the bottom of the apartment building looking up. The night was alive, and so was Remi with thoughts of Peter waiting for him. The last time he was here, it hadn’t gone well. Well, it’d gone to shit.

  He was hoping tonight would end differently. Tonight, he would be holding Peter in his arms.

  He’d gone back and forth over what to wear tonight, enduring criticism from Kaden who just asked him to send him a picture.

  Ultimately, they’d decided on the cashmere Ralph Lauren sweater that fit him like a glove paired with a pair of loose-fitting leather pants. On his feet, he wore a pair of comfortable C.K. loafers. He’d liked his appearance in the mirror and hoped Peter did, too.

  Remi wasn’t a vain man, but he hadn’t lacked for attention in school. Women always complimented him on his biceps, his height, and his brown eyes. Hell, it wasn’t just women who sought out his attention, but he’d never acted on that until now.

  Was this the path he wanted to take? He sank his hands into his pockets. Well, it was late to start second guessing himself now. He’d told Deborah, and by marriage, Cas, too. Would this be worth it? He thought about Peter, the way he wanted to help others so passionately he stressed over piggy banks and other minor details.

  It was worth it. In every kiss, every touch, in the stories the two shared, and the laughter. Peter was worth any possible sacrifice and more.

  * * * *

  In his suite, Peter sensed Remi, the tingles of anticipation flittering up and down his spine. How long had it been since he looked forward to being with someone, to knowing that person was there in his space, ready to be treasured, a vessel of living energy? Remi was his for the taking, to be savored, again and again, with renewed hunger. Remi’s life glowed, and Peter craved its shine, needed Remi for himself.

  Yes, Peter received joy in working with the families of his charities. In providing homes for the mothers and the fathers left desolate by tragedy. But, Remi. His very presence awakened him, brought him to highs and lows he’d never experienced before.

  This man, this human would become a part of his life, would fill the void that remained empty and barren for so long. His nelapsi barely held on, its canines so eager to thrust into Remi’s lifeblood and claim their mate.

  Peter turned in the mirror, pictured Remi’s hands wrapped in his hair, tugging as he found his pleasure, as Peter took him. He wore very tight, damn near second-skin skinny jeans that would make Remi’s mouth water.

  His ass was displayed appetizingly, and there was no way Remi would be able to resist him. The wine-colored blouse draped over the top of his pants would make a sort of peekaboo that would tease Remi so terribly, he would ache for a touch. Peter’s smile was predatory, his wolf in agreement with the trap to ensnare their mate.

  They were all looking forward to a fantastic evening.

  * * * *

  Remi and Peter decided on a movie then dinner, but the heat building between them was reaching a fevered pitch that would have them forgoing food in favor of savoring each other. They’d made it through the Avengers, but they would both have to watch it again—too interested in each other to focus on the screen.

  Their wandering fingers wound through fabric, pulled at buttons. Their hands eased beneath warm and damp spots, wrapped long fingers around eager cocks, and smeared pre-cum over spongy heads. The quiet gasps, the shivers, the tiny earthquakes along flesh were too much. Rather than moving on to the restaurant, where Remi called ahead and reserved a table, the two of them raced back to Peter’s home.

  Remi pulled into the parking space hard, the rubber from his tires smoking but nowhere near as hot as he and Peter were for each other. He stepped from his truck and moved quickly to the passenger side where he mauled a waiting Peter. Drowning himself in him, taking his lover’s hands and drawing him closer, his fingers mapping the slim muscular frame. Remi’s cock struggled for freedom, hungry for a taste of Peter in his arms. The nip he felt at his lips from Peter blazed against his soul.

  Startled, he opened his eyes to see Peter’s own glowing, red embers within. He was hypnotized by the tongue sweeping drops of his blood into that sweet mouth. Jealous for that tongue to run over places lower, and just as eager. He wanted his dick in that mouth, pushing against those sharp teeth, fucking Peter’s throat.

  “Inside,” he growled.

  “Of course, Remi.” Peter purred, his hands roving over Remi’s bigger body. “Come.”

  Remi would wonder later how they were able to move so fast. He barely remembered the distance they must have covered to get to the elevator that would take them to Peter’s floor. He was in a haze, lost in need and lust. Lips, touch, skin and more. He craved. More.

  In Peter’s home, he stood, a man taken over by his senses. The desire, the need to be with Peter—inside Peter—paramount to any other thought. They were in Peter’s bedroom. There was a decorative mirror, a long chaise lounge, a couple of dogs in the shadows, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the fucking beautiful man who stood before him, eyes hooded with a sly, eager smile on his face.

  “I fucking need you, like water in a desert. I want to drink you, take you into my soul.”

  “I am yours, Remi. Feed from me.” Peter said as he stalked Remi. He looked up into Remi’s eyes, his braid falling behind his back. “Take all of me.”

  “Your clothes,” Remi said. He touched Peter’s shoulders, bent his head down to kiss him, and swiped his tongue over his lips. “So many clothes.” Remi grasped the shirt, that purple tease, and shredded it down the front. “Ah. Skin. Your s
kin feels so smooth like marble, and I can’t resist touching it, touching you.”

  “Damn it, Remi. I’ve only worn that once.”

  “Keep it for a memory. I’ll buy you another one, but I can’t wait for you to get out of this straight-jacket of yours. How the hell did you get into these? I have to get my fingers, my mouth, on you everywhere. Need to get my teeth on that juicy ass of yours, and mark your pearly skin.” Remi bent again and sank his teeth into the space between neck and collarbone. Peter’s cry was a passion-filled scream.

  “Oh, Remi. What you do to me.” Peter whispered. “What you do to us,” the words a growl, and just that quickly Remi was off his feet and slammed on the bed.

  “What. The. Fuck.” Remi looked up, surprise on his face as he took in an unfamiliar Peter before him. Shining from within like the radiant light from the purest porcelain, his face lit up with an intensity that did nothing to quell the hunger in Remi’s soul.

  Remi did nothing as slowly, inch by painstaking inch, Peter bent toward him and then slower than that, crawled up his frame. He was so warm as he touched and tasted, licked and sucked, teased and devoured Remi. The rasp of his tongue along Remi’s skin pulled unintelligible sounds from him—whimpers and pleas and gasps.

  Later, his throat would be shredded from the cries that Peter tore from him, ravaging his skin, his teeth sliding and scraping, wounding and breaking him. The length of Remi’s legs, the raised arc of his torso, his fingers, his shoulders, his lips, no part of him safe. No part of him spared from Peter’s exploration. Every part was gifted, inflamed. Peter’s fingers pressed against him, molding him, owning him, and Remi submitted to the brand. He gave himself over willingly, accepting, reveling.

  “You’re my gift, Remi Devereaux. The Goddess gave you to me, gave you to us.”

  Remi sighed into Peter’s perfect kiss. So perfect the way he made him feel, the way his body hummed—he the pitch and Peter the tuning fork.

  “So much, Peter. God. So much.”

  “I’ll give you more, Remi. So much more if you let me. Let me show you what’s in my heart, what you can have.” Teeth ran along Remi’s neck, traced the vein there, bit at the skin, twisting. The heat was growing, burning him from the inside out as Peter continued to explore. “Let me show you what it feels like to be worshiped.”

  “Oh, God, Peter. Yeah, baby. Right there.” His sweater was pulled up, his abdomen exposed as Peter drew circles along Remi’s skin, his fingertips dancing in the grooves and cuts making Remi tremble and shake with pleasure.

  Remi couldn’t keep still, played his part in the orchestra of enraptured sounds, the cacophony of grunts and pleas. It was everywhere, all over him, pleasure so addictive, it was painful. He was at Peter’s mercy, would have knelt at his feet and worshiped him. Instead, he was grateful for any touch Peter shared.

  Soft words played along his ear, feather-light but magnified with the rising and falling waves of current that worked to further torment him. “I’ve fantasized about this, sweetheart, my mind filled with thoughts of you beneath me, at my mercy, and begging for my touch. I love the sounds you make, Remi.” Peter’s tongue licked along his skin, dipped in his ear canal. Remi trembled. “I love the way you shake for me, darling.”

  * * * *

  Remi was strong, stronger than most humans, but here he lay beneath Peter, subject to his wants. Nights Peter spent with his hand gripping his cock while he dreamed of this moment were nothing compared to reality, to having that work of art writhing and begging, wanting and needing him.

  The whimpers, the near sobs were music to him, the grunts a symphony. Remi was taller than him, but that the height difference all but disappeared as Peter took Remi over, slid up that beautiful temple of organic artistry.

  “Peter, the way you... I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Peter moved, then sat up and just stared at Remi who lay before him, struggling for contact. Remi reached up to attempt to pull him close again.

  “No, my love,” Peter said tenderly.

  Remi looked up, eyes hooded, breath coming fast. “What? No what, Peter?”

  “Let me take care of you. Let show you how making love can be.” Oh, that look, the vulnerability crossing his lover’s face was to be treasured.

  “Take care of me?”

  Remi’s eyes searched his, searched his expression, disbelieving.

  “What, baby?”

  “I... Cher, usually I’m the one. I’m—”

  “The bigger one, the stronger one? Usually the one giving?”

  “Yes,” Remi sighed as Peter ran his hand along his inner thigh before he unbuttoned Remi’s pants, sliding the soft leather down his muscular thighs, over his long legs.

  “Remi, you are so strong. So magnificent. You’re a delicious dessert wine, worthy of savoring. But, you are not the only strong one in this.” Gently, lightly he ran a nail down the cashmere covering his pecs. He kissed Remi softly but before Remi grasped him, he was up again. “I have my own power.”

  Peter drew his nail along one arm of the sweater, then the other, a faint blue shimmer sliding over his fingers. “But I would rather show you my control, my desire to enjoy you, please you, and use my strength to treasure you.” He watched as the cashmere fell away from Remi to the bed, nothing more than velvety scraps of fabric now.

  Remi looked from side to side, marveled at what he’d done. “How?”

  “Power should be used precisely. You, my lovely man, are worth that precision. I want to feel you, luxuriate in you.” Faster than light, Peter was next to him, teeth at his nipple, reveling in the shocked gasp that flew from Remi’s lips.

  “Ugh. Oh. Peter.”

  “Yes.” Peter lifted. “I love the way my name sounds on your lips.” He eased back, his skin sliding over Remi’s once again, drawing out the touch, the titillation. Remi slid his fingers through Peter’s hair, pulling the braid he wore free, the silken strands slipping and sliding over skin. Remi’s sighs a testament to the bliss following its contact.

  Further and further, Peter traveled down Remi’s body until he was where he most wanted to be. The redolent manly scent, the warmth radiating around Remi’s cock and balls enthralled him, made his canines ache to be filled with the blood that flowed there, draw his tongue along the length and swallow deeply. Just a thought and the creatures beneath his flesh grew, their awareness more present.

  Claws and teeth. Teeth and claws. Hold and capture. Make him theirs.

  He bent, burying his nose in the scent of Remi, darted his tongue to sample the flesh again, sank his fingers into the malleable muscle, bruising it with his wanting. The telltale signs of Remi’s arousal were so much more delectable here, the spurt of pre-cum, and the rigid hardness bouncing his way with a pulse of its own. He loved it. More.

  Peter lifted his head, slipped out his tongue and swiped a taste of the fragrant drops at the crown of Remi’s dick before he stretched his mouth open to take in the head and slide his way down to the hilt.

  “Argh!” Remi’s groan was loud, his hands tight as he gripped Peter’s head, pulled the strands of hair taut and ground his way in.

  * * * *

  Remi was engulfed in feeling. The way Peter took him, it was too much and not enough. Hot and wet. He gave and Remi embraced, ready to sacrifice his body to whatever Peter wished.

  Deeper and deeper and still not enough until... “Oh! Fuck.”

  He was right there, right the hell there at the back of his throat, fucking him. Fucking Peter’s sweet, sweet mouth. “Argh.” So damn good.

  The noises Peter made were decadent, driving him to move faster, pump harder. Breathe. He had to let him breathe, but damn. He sank in more, thrust harder until he shook, trembled.

  The slurps, the muffled groans from Peter were so sweet to hear and before long, Remi was coming loud and harsh, gasping for air, pumping erratically as he chased the orgasm blowing his fucking mind.

  His hands fell to the side while he la
y gasping for air, his dick limp and oversensitive. Peter gave gentle licks, cleaning him, seeing to his needs. Then he was over him, his lips swollen from the battering of Remi’s dick. Peter was kissing him, feeding him a taste his cum, sharing his taste with him, and Remi loved it. He gloried in the wicked feel of something so absolutely perfect, and so damn right.

  “Peter, baby.”

  “Yes, Remi.”

  “Damn.”

  “Oh, yes. I would agree. You were so damned amazing,” he said.

  Remi groaned, laughing.

  Peter’s fingers ran over his skin lightly, circling his nipple as Remi’s breaths slowed to normal—or as normal could be when he lay next to his greatest fantasy. Before Peter, he’d never envisioned a man pleasuring him with his mouth. The things Peter did with his tongue made certain he never forgot.

  “I want to please you.”

  “You just did.” Remi felt the telltale wetness along his thigh, sticky and chilled, signs of Peter’s own pleasure. How fucking hot was that? When had Peter opened his pants? He turned until he was on top of Peter, Remi’s hands around his wrists, emerald eyes glinting at him, surprised.

  “Yes, love.” Peter was breathless. “You’ve something in mind?”

  “You, baby. I have you in mind, all over me, me all over you.” Remi bent until his nose rested against Peter’s hair, breathed in the scent of his man. It was an odd mixture, like rosewood but savage and wild. A blending that drove Remi nuts, obliterated the need to be gentle, to take his time, but instead to possess.

  He wrenched Peter’s arms apart, stretched him out like an offering, like his sacrifice. Peter gasped. Not considering the whys, or the what the fucks, he opened his mouth to nurse at Peter’s skin, to suck it in, lash it with his tongue. He bit and reveled in Peter’s subsequent groans.

  “Mm, yes, love. Divine. Crave me? Have to possess me? Want to plunge that big cock of yours inside my ass, don’t you?”

  “Shut up,” Remi mouthed around Peter’s skin. “Just... So much more. I want everything. I can’t fucking think when you talk.”