“I just—I don’t want to hurt him. Or anyone. I’ve only read one book on medical care, so I’m no expert.” Actually, that wasn’t too far from the truth. Renner didn’t want to injure anyone by what he did either with his care or his uncontrollable urges.
“You’re the closest thing we have to an expert.” McBride wrapped his arm around Renner’s shoulders, giving him a sideways hug. “I know you’ll do your best.”
“I will.” Renner vowed that he would do his best to heal Quintus and keep his hands off him no matter how many times he had to run home and stroke himself. But next time the urge hit, he’d go to his bedroom and prop the chair up against the door. No matter what, he wasn’t going to get caught doing that again or doing anything inappropriate with McBride’s future mate.
Chapter 6
Quintus tried to sleep, but he couldn’t when the taste of Renner’s blood lingered on his tongue. Bagged blood had kept him healthy and satisfied all his life, but now that he’d tasted the gushing richness from a man’s neck, he knew he could never go back. What astonished him was that he’d read the very act of drinking aroused both drinker and drinkee, but he hadn’t grasped why. How could something as basic as sustenance give such profound pleasure? Now that he’d braved doing the act himself, he knew why.
Drinking blood directly from a man’s neck was inherently intimate. He had to get close enough to Renner to smell his body and feel his heat. Without even being able to see his cock, Quintus knew he was aroused, too, because Renner rocked his hips against the edge of the mattress. There was no mistaking the lust of that particular motion. Besides, when he stood up, his arousal was apparent.
“It was also what made him run away.” Quintus shook his head and buried his face under the covers. He’d been shocked when Renner’s hand started traveling up his thigh, but he hadn’t really wanted him to stop. Not when the idea of those work-worn hands around the soft skin of his cock would be wickedly sensual in terms of contrasts.
And to think that Quintus had always avoided drinking directly from another man because he thought the very act was unhygienic. Bagged blood seemed more refined and safe somehow. But what it lacked was the raw physicality of actual contact. Man to man and body to body engaged all of his senses where drinking from a bag sustained him but offered no pleasure.
Quintus sat bolt upright in his bed. What if he’d just exposed himself to the blood madness? Slowly, he eased himself back until his head hit the pillow. All his meticulous lab work rolled around in his mental landscape as he tried to determine if there might be a way to find out. Initially, he had thought the disease was a virus, but then he didn’t, yet now he wasn’t so sure what to think. At one point he came to the conclusion it was some odd genetic quirk that was being suddenly expressed. That notion held longer than any of the others. The only problem was he couldn’t prove it. Not with the equipment or tests he had access to. Initially, he worried that all the gentrymen would eventually fall victim to the sickness if it was due to a genetic anomaly, but he figured if they were going to show signs, they would have by now. Still, he hadn’t disabused McBride of the notion he could quarantine against the illness. He wasn’t certain how to tell him his theory or even if he should.
When Quintus had floated that particular idea to his fellow crimetechs, they’d laughed openly at him then turned back to their computers. But the notion simply wouldn’t go away no matter how diligently he tried to make what was happening fit in terms of being a virus. He found it too odd that suddenly, in multiple areas, a disease expressed the same symptoms. To his scientific brain, it didn’t seem like coincidence so much as it was…time.
Not that the Genetics Board had planned for the explosion of illness, just that with the way they cloned specific lines and hadn’t bothered to enrich the gentrymen gene pool, they had been asking for trouble. Quintus probably never would have hit on the idea without finding very old books about preplague genetics. On the verge of the world-destroying plague, couples were using advanced techniques to engineer specific traits in their children such as blue eyes or musical ability. But then the science went beyond that, allowing people to alter their own genetic structure. Governments tried to put restrictions, but it was the era of megacorporations that cared more about money than anything else. Men and women augmented themselves with animal genes, and soon there were humans with fur, scales, and hides as tough as a rhino’s. They gave themselves metallic sheens, the ability to withstand extremes of temperature, or even the ability to extend their canines and take sustenance from blood.
From that genetic mess, the plague had arisen.
Quintus hadn’t been able to find the details on how the Genetics Board came about, but he imagined the remnants of one of the old corporations had survived and toiled to put things back the way they were before they’d started mucking about. Sadly, they weren’t able to bring everything back. In his nightmares, Quintus imagined them trying to untangle the strings of double helixes to put the DNA back into tidy little coils. But they never were able to bring back women, horses, or dogs. Most of the domesticated animals—those used for food—were simpler to restore because there was an abundance of untainted stock, but the exotic breeds weren’t recreated, or perhaps they decided they didn’t need them.
If not for the science of mating any couple in a bottle, the entire human species would have been wiped out. Since they went the other direction and feared any change to the genetic structure, they preferred clones for the highest class. Slammers, thralls, and grinders had variations, but they were all formed from the same genetic pool. They just mixed and matched unlike the gentrymen, who were exact clones.
Quintus sighed and wondered what would become of all of them now. If he was right, if this was some kind of genetic crisis, then it didn’t matter what planet mankind lived on. He imagined all the planets suffering similar illnesses. Society would collapse. The survivors would either cling to the old ways or make sweeping changes, but it really didn’t matter. Without anyone around to decant more, they were the last of their kind.
Maybe someday, millions of years from now, life would emerge from the genetic mess left behind. He fell asleep wondering what it would be like.
Quintus awoke to sharp hunger and burning pain. For a moment, he thought the wound he’d suffered had infected, but he realized the pain was much higher. Struggling to extricate himself from the blankets, he realized his pubic hair was caught in his underwear. Adjusting himself, he sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the bed. He was going to rise and turn on the light, but a soft rapping made him stay where he was.
“Come in.”
To his surprise, Renner entered. After what happened, Quintus didn’t think he’d see him again.
“McBride told me to check on you.”
Ah. It was exactly what he thought. Renner wasn’t here of his own free will but at the behest of his master. Still, he was here, and after McBride had caught them in what Quintus thought was a compromising position. Clearly, it wasn’t, since McBride had sent Renner back in. Still, Quintus was relieved that he hadn’t done anything wrong. The fact that McBride made no issue about Quintus drinking from his slammer or pleasuring himself while he did so emboldened Quintus to engage Renner again. He wanted to taste him a second time and see if he had the same reaction.
“I’m thirsty.”
Renner swallowed hard, and Quintus was fairly certain he was about to back out of the room, but he decided the time had come to assert his authority.
“Come here.”
Despite the fact he was just as big and strong as Quintus himself, Renner approached and tentatively knelt down between Quintus’s spread legs.
“I should clean up.”
“I liked the taste of you before. I see no reason to change anything now.” Quintus reached out and stroked his finger over the fresh scar he’d made on Renner’s neck. He was rewarded with a soft sigh of surrender as Renner tilted his head. “Tell me what it feels like.”
; “Sir?”
“When I touch the scar. What does it feel like?” Quintus knew that if he bonded to McBride, he would have a scar on his neck that McBride could tease. Of course, McBride would carry Quintus’s mark as well. Given how it clearly affected Renner, Quintus wasn’t so sure he wanted a corresponding spot on his body that would enslave him to another.
“It feels—it feels as if you are touching all the erotic nerves in my body at once.” Renner clenched his eyes closed.
“Explain.”
“I don’t know how any more than that.”
“If I keep stroking you here,” Quintus said, slowing the passes he made against the scar, “will you climax?”
“I don’t know.”
“McBride never teases you?” Quintus knew the lines between gentrymen and slammers were quite well delineated, but now that everything was falling apart, he didn’t think it mattered so much. All his life he’d controlled himself. Why should he continue doing so when all he’d done was keep himself from a world of intense pleasure?
“No. He touches a bit, feeds, then goes.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I do. He’s nice.” Renner opened his eyes and looked sharply at Quintus. “I would not deliberately do anything to hurt him.”
“Neither would I.” Quintus kept right on touching his mark upon the devilishly handsome slammer. “Did he give you permission to bare your neck to me?”
“Yes.” Renner dropped his probing gaze.
“And you don’t want to?”
“I…” His voice trailed off. When Renner spoke again, his voice was a tortured whisper. “I shouldn’t want to as much as I do.”
Leaving off his scar, Quintus slipped his finger below Renner’s chin, urging him to lift his face until they were looking into each other’s eyes. He held him there for a timeless moment that he was loathe to break. He wanted to just stop time so he could memorize every smooth and rough line of Renner’s expressive face. His brown eyes were wide, innocent, and yet almost desperately hungry. His mouth trembled with a confusing mix of lust and fear. But it was the way his breath caught, and then he’d make an almost-imperceptible whimper deep in his chest. That was what pushed at Quintus to command him. Just as slammers were conditioned to submit, Quintus had to acknowledge that he was driven to take control.
Unable to resist, Quintus lifted him up until he was pressed against him and their lips were so close and yet so far. Holding him there, Quintus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, smelling and tasting Renner before he ultimately lowered his mouth and covered Renner’s.
As soon as the contact came, Quintus was assured that his attraction was reciprocated. Renner surrendered against him, leaning up, moving closer so that he was pressing against Quintus’s bare chest. Smoothing his hand down his neck, forgoing the scar, Quintus got to work unbuttoning Renner’s shirt.
Renner pressed his hand against Quintus’s as if he would stop him, but his resolve faltered and he groaned. In the end, he helped to strip the garment away. As soon as it was gone, they were chest to chest. The shock of his hot flesh stunned Quintus. He couldn’t recall anything ever feeling as good as this man. He wanted to taste him again, but more importantly, he wanted to know him.
“Tell me what you dream of.”
“What?” Renner met his gaze, puzzled but obviously willing to please.
“What’s your fondest dream?”
“I want you.”
The comment hung in the air between them, true and stunning.
“I want you, too.” Quintus urged him close for another kiss, but Renner lowered his head.
“We shouldn’t.”
“Why?” Quintus placed his fingertip upon the scar again, but he only held it there. He didn’t think it was fair to cloud Renner’s judgment with lust.
“Because you’re promised to another.”
“I never promised McBride anything.”
“No?” Hope flared in Renner’s eyes.
“No. I thought he asked me here because we work together. Nothing more.”
“You don’t want him?” Renner seemed utterly shocked by the very idea of anyone not wanting his powerful master.
“He’s handsome, strong, and I’m sure he would be a good provider.” Quintus’s words only slumped Renner’s shoulders. “But I find that I want you.”
Up came Renner’s head, his eyes so full of yearning it was positively striking.
“But it’s illegal.”
“Not anymore.” Quintus stroked lightly over the scar then lowered his hand to Renner’s shoulder. His muscles strained under his touch, and Quintus realized it wasn’t just his teasing of the scar that aroused Renner. Simply placing his hand on his shoulder was erotic torment. “Everything has changed.”
Renner frowned and looked away.
“Should your brother and the gentryman he’s with be locked up?”
“No.” Renner’s frown deepened.
“Then why is it any different for you and me?”
Rather than answer, Renner rose up and pressed his lips against Quintus’s. A surge of need made Quintus grasp Renner’s buttocks and pull him tight. He felt incredibly strong. Using his massive body for balance, Quintus moved closer to the edge of the bed, grinding their bodies together. All that stood between his cock and Renner’s chest was the thin fabric of his underwear.
Clearly hungry for more, Renner rose up so that more of their bodies were pressed together. Groaning and grasping, they were like wild animals writhing against one another, seeking release. Quintus shoved his hand between their bodies and fumbled with Renner’s trousers, pushing them off once he got the fastener open. Renner matched him when he struggled to push Quintus’s underwear down.
When he wasn’t able to get them out of the way, he broke the kiss and pulled back. Quintus lifted up to assist him in pulling the garment down, but Renner yanked the fabric out of the way then wrapped his lips around Quintus’s cock.
A cry of surprise broke free against his best efforts to suppress it. Quintus had wondered what it would feel like to have another man take his prick in his mouth, but all the imaginings in the world didn’t come close to the slick heat of Renner’s mouth. The shock of pleasure was so great, Quintus feared he would release without fully experiencing the moment. As if he sensed his urge to climax, Renner backed off. He didn’t stop working his mouth on Quintus’s cock. He just eased back on the intensity.
When Renner reached up and stroked his hands over Quintus’s nipples, he settled back on the bed, lost in the feelings that Renner evoked. He was beautiful in his passion, eager and hungry to give Quintus pleasure. It was as if he’d been holding back his entire life and was suddenly set free.
With great care, Renner rose up, letting off Quintus’s cock while he pulled his underwear down and off. As he tugged them past the injury on Quintus’s leg, he gently kissed over the top of the bandage. It was an island of compassion in their sea of raw passion. Even though Renner was clearly hungry for sex, he hadn’t lost sight of his need to tend to Quintus’s injury.
Once his underwear was down and gone, Renner returned to teasing his cock. On the verge of completely losing control, Quintus pulled him up onto the bed. Renner groaned as they ground their bodies together. It was rough but sweet at the same time.
“Your leg.”
“It’s fine.” Quintus squirmed and wriggled until he and Renner were lying the correct direction on the bed. He slipped his uninjured leg between Renner’s thighs and encouraged him to rock his hips.
“Wait.” Renner was up and off the bed, yanking off his boots and trousers so fast it was almost like magic. When they were gone, he was back. He grabbed Quintus’s leg and centered it between his. Now when he rocked against him, Quintus felt the rough hair of Renner’s body and the smooth slickness of his pre-cum.
Quintus lowered his mouth to the scar, teasing his lips over the surface, loving the way Renner groaned and increased his hold on Quintus’s leg. Sliding his hand
down his back, Quintus teased Renner’s hole then slipped his finger his ass.
“You’re slick.” Renner was tight, but he was also slick inside.
“I used a greaser.”
Quintus was stunned for a moment, almost shocked that Renner knew before he did where this was going to go, but then he was glad he’d thought ahead. Moreover, it was obvious he was willing. As much as Quintus hungered for him, he certainly didn’t want to take him against his will.
“Are you angry?” Renner asked.
“I’m pleased.” While teasing his tight nipples, Quintus continued to work open his snug hole. Renner was rocking his hips so fast Quintus was certain he would climax in mere moments.
Urging him to his back, Quintus pushed Renner’s legs apart so while he teased the tight channel of his ass, he was able to suck his cock.
Renner uttered a cry of longing while he continued to hold back. Determined to have his pleasure on his tongue, Quintus kept right on plunging his fingers while flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip of his prick. Hearing and feeling Renner struggle to hang on to his release only prompted Quintus to work harder for his reward. And then, almost by accident, he found the rhythm that pushed Renner right over the edge.
With a breathless cry, Renner climaxed, rewarding Quintus with the luscious taste of his gushing pleasure. As soon as he’d drunk the last, he found Renner easing him to his back, and then his lips were wrapped around Quintus’s cock. Up and down he worked his mouth until Quintus was so hard he practically hurt.
Rising up, Renner slung his leg over Quintus’s hips and lowered himself until he pressed Quintus’s cock against the slick entrance of his ass.
Their gazes met and held.
“Do you want to stop?” Quintus dreaded that he would say yes, but if he didn’t ask, he would always fear he’d somehow forced Renner into intimacy against his will even though he was on top.
“No. I’ve waited all my life for you.”
It was sweet and almost shyly romantic, but Quintus felt the same way. He’d never come close to sex with any other man. He’d never had any interest until Renner had dropped to his knees to offer him comfort against the dirt road and his injury. His big hands had been gentle, his expression concerned and kind.
Renner Morgan Page 5