by Deja Black
“Do you have to think, Remi?” Peter groaned when Remi shoved his knee between his thighs, spreading him open. “Feel, Remi. Just feel. Take it, my love. My Supruga.”
Remi didn’t know what that was, but right now he didn’t care. He’d lost the ability to think. The more he breathed in, the more he wanted. The more he tasted, the more he was driven to capture. He needed Peter. He focused on that, the need to swallow, to own Peter.
Peter’s dick was hard as it drilled itself into his thigh. Remi moved his hands down, grabbed onto those vice-like pants he wore around his knees now and pulled them with him as he stood, fully baring that white marble cock, the top slick and wet, teasing him with its sweet scent.
The high-heeled boots Peter wore, Remi tugged once, then twice. Finally, Peter was naked before him, toned and lined, a feast for him and him alone. Because Remi knew he would kill the person who tried to take Peter from him.
He didn’t waste a moment, didn’t stop to think but dropped down between Peter’s legs, drew them up with his ankles over Remi’s shoulders. Peter watched him, eyes following him as Remi, not bothering to play with the fragrant spots around Peter’s dick, went straight for what he wanted. Remi opened his mouth and swallowed Peter whole.
* * * *
“Oh, Goddess. Remi. Remi. Remi,” Peter chanted as Remi’s tongue swirled the head of his dick. This time, he was the one incapable of thought. Lost in pleasure. Goddess bless.
His back rose, his body curving upward as Remi played him with his tongue, fed from him. “Ugh. Ugh.” Unable to breathe, too much was happening as Remi’s hands bruised his thighs, spread him further and further, took him until his lips pressed against Peter’s balls.
“Damn, Peter. You always taste like this, like honey?” Remi asked him before swallowing him again then opening Peter’s legs wider. Peter was a meal, subject only to Remi’s hunger, his need to be fed by him. “You taste like this everywhere, Peter?” Roughly, Remi moved him—his legs up higher and further apart. Then, light of the Goddess, Remi’s tongue was inside him, sinking inside his hole, thrusting inside, sparks combusting as he drowned him in sensory overload.
“Mmph,” Remi said as wet slurps and muffled grunts danced along Peter’s ears. “God, you taste good fucking everywhere,” Remi growled as he speared his tongue inside, licking along the curves and ripples of Peter’s furled hole. “Damn, Peter.”
“Ah. Ah. Oh, Remi. Please.”
“Please, what, Peter?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Just... argh.” Remi’s mouth was on Peter’s cock again, swallowing, the muscles of his throat pulsing along with the heartbeat that moved down to beat in Peter’s dick.
Peter’s hips flexed faster, his movements erratic until he felt a twin awareness travel along his frame. They were seeking an entry, a way to get to their mate and would use any way possible. By blood or Peter’s seed, they would find a path and then the mating would begin.
A little wouldn’t be enough. A trickle too small, but a rush of his life force into Remi’s waiting mouth and the human would be theirs.
* * * *
Remi was aware the moment Peter lost himself. He heard the growls, the whines as Peter broke. The dick he savored between his lips pulsed and he was eager to have his first taste.
He was heady with Peter’s scent, seared by his touch. It was all over him, permeating the room, driving him insane. Peter’s taste drove him to open his throat in anticipation. He was ensnared by Peter, driven to his primal urges by the lure of him.
It was crazy, but he felt like he’d waited for this moment all his life. Peter was light, and he’d prayed for that light to find him. He would warm himself by its rays any way he was able, in any way that Peter Romanoff chose to take him, to keep him. He would do it, be his, worship him. Peter shook violently, the muscles in his legs tensing as he came.
Yes, Remi anticipated Peter’s pleasure, but as Peter’s grunts grew louder and louder, his whispers of, “No. No. No” did, too. Suddenly Remi found himself on the floor, Peter standing before him, dick in hand, spilling his seed over Remi. The drops hit him, and Remi would swear he heard them sizzle as they singed his flesh, each touch a whip against his soul.
He’d missed something so vital he felt it to the depths of his soul. One moment, he’d had his mouth open, ready to swallow Peter’s cum like a greedy wild boar. The next, he lay on the floor, Peter’s come branding him and leaving him... empty.
When Peter ceased shaking, he smiled down at Remi with a look both tender and regretful.
“I wanted to—” Remi said. He’d needed to drink from Peter so desperately and was deprived the satisfaction of a part of Peter he craved.
“Not yet, my love. Not yet.” Sighing, Peter reached down. He was shaking, but he pulled Remi from the floor. Damn, he was strong, and his skin was hot where Remi touched.
Remi was no lightweight. There was no way Peter should be able to move him around the way he did. He pushed Remi down on the bed and lay against him, caressed him, smearing the chilling seed into Remi’s skin.
“We should maybe take a shower.” Remi was tired, so tired his eyes closed as he spoke, lulled by Peter’s gentle circles.
“No, my love. I need my scent on you a while longer to appease my beast.”
Remi wondered at his words, but his questions died as he immediately fell asleep.
There was something scrutinizing him, and it was angry. Remi felt the rage and shuddered, vulnerable to the emotions that crashed against his psyche.
“Mate. Supruga.” It was Peter’s voice, and then it wasn’t. Remi’s eyes fluttered open to see blue flames focused on him. “Ours. You are ours. Our gift, our tie. You will bind our souls, but he denies us.”
Peter looked at him unseeing, his words rough utterances. Remi tried to move, but he couldn’t. He was frozen in a nightmare because while he looked at Peter’s face, his lover’s lips opened and fangs slid out, long and wickedly sharp.
“You had only to drink from us, drink and we would be made whole. But, he holds back. Denies us.” Peter roared, angry, tortured.
Peter’s body shivered as hair rose over his skin, flying across his arms and hands, his pain looked terrible as he shifted back and forth like something out of a horror movie. From a man to a magnificent creature. From fangs to teeth, then back again.
Remi cried out as claws pierced his shoulders, the monster before him holding on.
“Supruga. You will bind us. Make us whole.” Remi’s legs were thrust apart, a hot spear of muscle between his cheeks. “Make. Us. Whole.”
“Goddess help me,” he heard his lover pray, “Aiden. Aiden. Please.”
Remi closed his eyes as he fought against the searing fire.
Remi drifted. He was warm as the dream changed, as the pain lessened and disappeared.
He’d had a nightmare. But now, Peter looked at him from a distance, his gentle smile there, warm and loving, inviting him to play. It made sense he’d dreamed something so terrible, what with this case, the unknowns. Stress did that, created pain, caused the mind to struggle against itself.
Monster.
No, Peter wasn’t a monster. His mind just twisted events around because of the pressure he was under. Peter was sweet, devilish, but not brutal. He wouldn’t have hurt him. His Peter enjoyed him, kissed him. His Peter laughed with him.
He drifted and saw them traveling through the park, smiling and kissing. Saw them happy. He saw Peter’s hair in his hand, felt gentle lips against his skin... gentle then sharp kisses with hints of teeth, not fangs, not deadly canines for tearing and ripping. He shivered with thoughts of claws, of being held, unable to move. His heart raced.
I want to love you. Make you whole, he pleaded in his dream.
Not yet, my love. Not yet.
I’m strong enough. I’m strong enough.
Something, someone pressed against his mind, tried to push thoughts away, make him forget. It
was a struggle to find the pain, the memory. Like trying to come up for air from the watery grips of a choppy ocean. It was there, beyond the surface, just out of reach.
A dream. A dream. It was a dream, and there Peter was again, smiling, laughing.
It was all a dream.
Chapter Nineteen
Remi woke with a start. A man stood at the end of the bed, and Remi reached for his gun but froze when the man’s face came into view.
“You will need to be more alert than that to protect my nephew,” he said smoothly then turned away.
Kristoff Dumanovsky.
There were all kinds of black spots in his history, the kind of spots that read government involvement, and unless the seeker held the golden ticket, there was nothing to be found of the Russian online or anywhere else.
Remi threw on his underwear, the remnants of his sweater a lost cause, and followed him out. They stood in Peter’s entertainment room assessing each other.
“You find my nephew beautiful, Remi Devereaux?” Dumanovsky asked calmly.
“Yes, I do. You don’t waste any time do, you?”
“Never. Especially when it concerns those I love. Do you?” Icy blue eyes watched him, and Remi knew that his response was significant.
“No. Time’s too short to waste.”
“Hm. American colloquialisms. What would your family in Louisiana think of how you are spending your time, Detective?”
Dumanovsky probably expected Remi to be surprised, but he wasn’t. It would stand to reason that someone with as craftily blanked history as Dumanovsky would have Remi investigated.
“Well, Kristoff. May I call you Kristoff?” At Kristoff’s nod, Remi continued. “They would be surprised, I’m sure.”
“You’ve never dated a man,” Kristoff stated. It wasn’t a question.
“No, I’ve never dated a man.”
“And this is what concerns me. You are here at a time in Peter’s life when much is needed, when a partner is needed for what he is to face.”
Unlike Peter, Kristoff wasn’t dancing around Remi’s questions. “There are definitely lines pointing toward danger for Peter, yes.”
“Ah. Excellent. You’ve begun piecing it together.” Kristoff nodded, a slight smile hinting at his approval. It was also very apparent that Peter wasn’t the only one with knowledge of their case. But, Kristoff wanted something from him, and wasting time with hows and whys were not an option right now. They were never an option where Peter was concerned.
“Yes. I have.”
“My nephew needs you, Remi. Whether he has admitted it to himself or not, he does. His man, Caleb, will watch him as he always has, but I must know if you are to be a constant in his life. Will you fulfill your role as partner, or must you be removed rather than waste Peter’s time?”
There was no question that this was a threat. But, instead of focusing on being removed, Remi said, “How can I answer this question when we’ve just met, have only just slept together? How can any expectations be made from me or from Peter?”
Kristoff spoke slowly, “Any simpleton looking at you can glean that you’re already feeling something right now, that the man who held my nephew protectively while he slept loves my Peter.”
Remi took a quick breath. Love? Sure, there were feelings there, the way his heart beat faster with thoughts of Peter. The way he needed, not just wanted, him.
Maybe, at first, it was about the best ass he had ever seen, but now? When had this thing he felt for Peter asleep in the other room progressed beyond the desire to just have him for a moment? When had he started having thoughts of a lifetime?
Remi looked up at Kristoff who watched him silently, waiting.
“I have feelings for him, yes,” Remi said. “I’ll admit that there’s something inside him that calls to me.” He sighed, then more to himself than to Kristoff he said, “I’ve never felt anything like this before, never needed like this before.”
“What you’re feeling, Detective—,” Kristoff said.
Remi looked up again, waiting for him to finish.
But, Kristoff looked over Remi’s shoulder, and he was aware, from the way his eyes warmed, Peter stood there behind him.
“Uncle?” Peter questioned. He yawned tiredly and then glanced toward the window at the dark sky.
“Nephew.”
“It’s early.”
“Is it? Hmm. It appears to be quite the opposite. Too late, in fact, wouldn’t you say?”
Remi watched Peter’s expression blanch as a thought crossed his mind. When he looked at Remi, his eyes softened, but there was still a trace of worry there, something beneath the surface.
Peter looked back to his uncle. “Not too late, Uncle. Everything’s fine. We’re both well.”
Kristoff sighed. The two of them battling silently, equally matched in their stubbornness.
“So,” Remi said, “This meeting of the minds you two are having?” The two men turned to him. “Yeah, that one. It doesn’t need me here.” Facing Kristoff, Remi said, “Strange and awkward to meet you, Kristoff.”
Remi turned to his lover who wrapped his arms around him and kissed him hard. He was lost, lost in the taste and feel of Peter Romanoff, eager to finish what they’d started. “Damn, little man. What you do to me.”
“I’ve only just started,” was the heated whisper back.
“I’d like to see you again soon.” Remi traced his lips down the path of Peter’s neck.
“And you will. I won’t let you get away.” The glow in Peter’s eyes, the way they shined. It was so like his dream that it nearly made him stutter.
“Nor me, you.”
He heard the opening of the glass door and a chair shift on the balcony. Using the moment alone Kristoff gave them, he dipped and touched his lips to Peter’s.
“So,” Remi came up for air, his hands drifting over Peter. “I have to go to work.” As if in answer, his cell buzzed. “Mom’s calling.”
“I’m sure your partner would take objection to that, Detective Devereaux.”
Remi bent to kiss him again. “Probably, and it’s always Remi to you, baby.”
“Remi,” Peter smiled and then punctuated it gently with another kiss.
“Yes, well.” Remi grinned. “I’ll be getting in late, but I want—” Remi said.
“I do, too.”
“Uhm,” Remi said, not eager to go but ready to get out of the impending family meeting that he honestly wanted no part of.
Peter laughed quietly as he glanced toward the balcony. “Call me when you’re ready to come home. I’ll be here.”
Home, Remi thought. He liked the sound of that and left to get his things.
Peter moved to the balcony to stand with his uncle. Nothing was said as they watched the night slowly become day, the lights from the city dimming as the sun rose. As the door was closing, Remi heard words that made him curious.
“Home?” Kristoff questioned.
“Only a matter of time, Uncle.”
“Let us hope time is on your side, young one.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Chapter Twenty
Peter liked what he saw in his mirror. His Anthony Notch accented his more pleasing points and drew the eye to the roundness of his ass, the length of his legs. He smoothed his hands down the front of the suit across his hard chest. The matted black wool gabardine coupled with the royal blue silk number he picked up earlier that week, the layers of color? Striking.
“My Korol, you’re pleasing to the eye.” Caleb stepped into the room. Making quite an impression himself in an Armani Collezioni, the virgin wool was painstakingly crafted to fit his long body. It did wonders for his dark hair, and the crisp white Theory he paired it with set off his dark tanned skin.
Yes, the two of them would no doubt make quite an entrance tonight. While Peter pictured a tall bronzed man with wide shoulders, clean shaven with brown eyes at his side, a man that made h
im laugh one moment and beg the next, he couldn’t have that tonight.
He’d thought of asking Remi to go with him, but it was too soon for such a public event. Maybe, when the next charity event came along Caleb wouldn’t be the only one to accompany him.
“And you as well.”
Peter watched as Caleb checked his clothing and hair in the mirror. “We have to go, my Second. Is everyone ready?”
“Of course. Your wolves are always prepared.” Caleb was the conduit that stood between the wolves and their Korol. He was supplicant and sacrifice, warrior and executioner.
They would follow Caleb into the arms of death without hesitation. As Peter’s second, his leadership met no hesitation. They worked to keep Peter steady, feeding the enemies within, but lately, the rages were beginning to show. It wouldn’t be long before Caleb would be unable to help veil the struggle within the Korol.
It would upset his rule, and now was not the time for that to happen when all signs pointed toward an oncoming war. The faction of wolves and the few nelapsi that followed his parents here had grown, and whether he wanted it or not, they would be combined with his father’s former coven.
It was his responsibility, one he still didn’t want.
“I don’t want anyone to know they are there,” Peter said thinking of his entourage.
“I know. We all do.” He’d made that mistake the first time. The focus needed to be on the pictures, the brief speeches that would be made today rather than on the men and women who followed him. Whether angelically beautiful or dark and brooding, they commanded attention. Now, when Peter traveled, he made sure they were at a distance, one they all agreed to.
“We are not to become the focus. This is for the families who need that money from the benefit. No distractions.” His words were firm and without question.
“You, alone, will be distraction enough. The gasps of breath taken at your entry—”