The Devil's Breath

by A. Nybo

  He heard muted voices, and then the door closed. Guessing Henri had something he had to do, he tucked himself in. He’d just pulled his zipper up when Henri stepped into the bathroom and knocked his hands away. “No you don’t.” He grinned into a brief kiss. Henri rubbed his bristled jaw against Birch’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “Not until I’ve had my fill.” A shiver raced through him, and they were almost back to where they were before the knock at the door.

  Within a minute, Henri ensured Birch had forgotten any interruptions whatsoever. Birch leaned on the vanity facing the mirror as Henri stood behind him and removed his jeans and underwear. When he had Birch naked, Henri yanked on his towel and tossed it aside before pressing himself up against Birch’s back, allowing his cock to slide up and down between Birch’s cheeks. “Any objection to being topped?” Henri whispered in his ear.

  Birch rubbed his ear against Henri’s jaw. “Not if you take it slow.” It had been some time since he’d bottomed, but with the way Henri was going, he was sure it would be a pleasurable experience. Henri had him so wired, he wanted it all.

  Henri stepped back slightly and pushed on Birch’s back until his top half was almost lying on the vanity. Birch closed his eyes and revelled in pleasure as Henri kissed down his spine. Henri massaged his torso and then went lower until he finally took Birch in hand for a few strokes.

  Next Henri’s hands continued down the front of Birch’s legs, and Birch groaned with the glorious contrasting sensations as Henri alternately scratched across Birch’s lower back and cheeks with his bristled jaw and then retraced the prickled trail with the softness of his lips. Henri ran his hands up the back of Birch’s legs and spread his cheeks. Then he dipped his tongue into Birch’s most sensitive spot, eliciting a moan of sheer bliss.

  HENRI TEASED Birch until he was certain all he need do was position himself and Birch would back up onto him. Droplets of precome seeped from Birch intermittently, and Henri took great pleasure watching in the bathroom mirror for their appearance.

  With a condom in place, Henri palmed Birch’s cock as he positioned his own at Birch’s entrance. He pressed slightly forward as he stroked Birch, and Birch didn’t hesitate to move back onto him and then alternately thrust into his hand. Apart from stroking him, Henri remained still, allowing Birch to dictate the speed with which he admitted Henri.

  When Birch had completely accepted him and Henri was buried deep, he ran his hands over Birch before manoeuvring him so he was bent with his hands against the wall.

  He kissed across Birch’s shoulder and then began a slow and gentle gyration of his hips. The muscles in Birch’s back tensed and rippled beneath that gorgeous coppery skin as they moved in unison. Henri couldn’t keep his hands off him. He ran them up Birch’s back, down his sides, along muscled thighs, down defined arms. It was glorious tracing the gentle contours that housed that fibrous strength.

  As they moved, Birch’s breathing grew increasingly laboured, and his skin glazed with sweat. He emitted a low growl, and Henri glanced in the mirror. The vision before him caused a chaos of sexual greed to run rampant in his brain. A long gossamer strand of precome dangled from Birch, and he was so hard his cock barely moved as Henri thrust into him. “Oh fucking God,” Henri breathed, his eyes momentarily rolled up before he could drag them back to continue watching the horniest spectacle he’d ever witnessed.

  Digging his fingers into Birch’s hips, he tried to immerse himself completely. He’d never wanted to be so far inside another person, and still it was as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to melt into the man until he was wrapped around his being.

  Henri hammered into Birch, trying to ease his appetite, which had risen to fevered torment. Their bodies slammed together, and Birch grunted several times before he huffed a staccato growl. Henri watched in the mirror as without so much as a hand to his cock, Birch ejaculated onto the bathroom floor, his muscles clenching down on Henri like a closing fist. A wave of heat pulsated throughout Henri’s body, and sparks and tingles shot along nerves, but he still didn’t find release.

  After the initial constrictions of Birch’s climax, his body opened to Henri once again, and the sensation caused another fevered wave to wash through Henri’s brain.

  As the edge of frustration rose, Henri hammered into Birch and his hands searched for a better grip. The pressure building in Henri was unbearable. Unable to find the purchase he needed to submerge himself completely, he wrapped one arm beneath Birch’s hips and one across his chest as though locking him into a seat belt. He pulled Birch to him as he thrust forward.

  With his head turned towards the mirror, he lay along Birch’s back. Their sweat-moistened skin slid together, and he pumped hard. Birch’s cock flexed against his forearm, and Henri’s eyes widened as a single strand of Birch’s second release spurted across his arm. Henri’s orgasm thundered through him as white lightning slashed his mind away.

  Henri’s body convulsed with such force that he lifted Birch to him, and Birch had to use his hands against the wall in a struggle to keep them balanced as Henri took both their weights on unsteady legs. Aftershocks almost as powerful as the orgasm itself racked him, and his teeth dragged across Birch’s back as grunts were forced from him with powerful jolts. As the aftershocks waned, he was still clinging to Birch. But awareness faded as they slid to the floor.

  When coherence returned, Henri perused his length to find him and Birch lying at right angles on the tiles, their legs tangled together. He didn’t know whether he’d fallen asleep or been lying with his eyes open. He had no desire for anything. For the first time in his life, Henri experienced complete satiation and contentment. He lay staring at the ceiling, but the longer he lay there, the more aware he became of the cold seeping in.

  Birch lay with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar as he took in regular breaths. He appeared so peaceful Henri almost didn’t want to disturb him, but if he lay like that too much longer, he wouldn’t be able to move when he tried to get up. Henri trailed the backs of his fingers across Birch’s cheek. Birch closed his mouth and swallowed before opening his eyes a crack. Lifting his head, he tilted his face down, trying to see over the bottom half to find Henri. He smiled and let his head lower slowly to the tiles. “I think you broke me.”

  “Maybe we could call for the stretcher-bearers.”

  “Tell them to bring many shots of concentrated caffeine.”

  Birch reached for Henri’s hand and linked their fingers. Even after the sex they’d just shared, holding hands seemed almost overwhelmingly intimate to Henri. Maybe it was because the desperation for completion wasn’t occupying his every thought, but it made him feel oddly vulnerable. Even so, there was something compelling about the connection Birch was offering.

  “What happened? I don’t remember hitting the floor,” said Henri.

  “I think that’s what you call ‘fucking into oblivion.’”

  “It’s your fault.”

  “Hey, you broke the toys.” As he squeezed Henri’s hand, Birch looked at him, and the depth of emotion swirling in those gorgeous, liquid brown eyes and in that smile spiralled inside Henri’s chest.

  BIRCH WOKE to find Henri cuddled up to him, an arm and a leg carelessly thrown over his body. He loved the way Henri gravitated to him during sleep, despite starting on the far side of the bed. It gave him hope that, given enough time, Henri would become accustomed to their closeness and would feel more secure when being touched.

  With a mental start, Birch wondered when he’d decided Henri was going to be a permanent part of his life. Before he had their old-age pensions sorted out for them, he might want to consult Henri to see if he had any inclination to be with him or whether he considered their relationship to be of a more transient nature. Because of course, asking Henri something life-changing at this point wasn’t likely to put a lot of unnecessary pressure on him.

  Birch shook his head at himself, and the movement seemed to trigger a jolt from Henri. A second or two
later, Henri made a soft whimpering noise, but instead of it dying away, the pitch continued to increase and ended in a howl.

  The blood-curdling sound was so primordial that Birch fought the instinct to wrap his arms around Henri and squeeze so tight he would completely surround him, protecting him from the outside world. The rush of emotion was so profound, his throat constricted and moisture collected in his eyes. He’d never experienced such a visceral reaction from a wordless sound before—he hadn’t even known it was possible.

  Henri issued a small puff and tightened his hold around Birch. Knowing that to give in to his protective instinct would probably frighten Henri more than help, Birch tried to satisfy himself with a kiss to Henri’s hair and some soothing words. He set his cheek on the top of Henri’s head and experienced a ridiculous amount of pleasure when Henri nuzzled at his chest.

  Well aware emotions couldn’t be rationalized, Birch still wondered how this most beautiful, tormented, and artistic man had come to mean so much to him—and in such a short period of time. It made no sense whatsoever that Henri could give him such great pleasure by unconscious acts like gravitating to him in sleep or nuzzling at him. God, he’d turned into such a sap since he’d met Henri. And he loved it.

  In an attempt to keep from disturbing Henri with potentially unwanted caresses, he rolled with his back to him. Henri spooned him, and he lay enjoying their closeness. He was almost asleep when Henri began moving around and eventually settled without any contact between them.

  Birch turned over. Henri was facing him, the sheet covering the lower half of his face. It billowed gently with every breath Henri took. Suddenly his eyes flew open, and his large pupils contracted and then expanded. Birch chuckled.

  Henry blinked and pulled the sheet down beneath his chin. “What are you laughing at, and why are you watching me sleep?”

  Being caught out watching Henri sleep made Birch extremely conscious of the potential for the action to feed into Henri’s past. He schooled himself to ignore the thoughts and be aware of the possibility, but not to alter his behaviour because of it.

  “I’m laughing because the way you opened your eyes reminded me of a little owl. And I’m watching you sleep because I missed you while I was sleeping.”

  Birch wanted to draw Henri in but settled for making the very visible move of caressing his jaw. To his delight, Henri moved in to press against him. Henri’s hand slid around to knead Birch’s buttcheek.

  “Careful where you put that hand,” Birch warned.

  Henri drew back far enough to meet his eyes. “Why?”

  “My ass is so sore it’s lucky I don’t have to work today.” He grinned. “I don’t think I could ride a horse.”

  When Henri pressed his lips to his, Birch could feel his smile. “Not up for some morning lovin’, then?” The smile faded as Henri pursued the kiss over talking.

  “I didn’t say that,” Birch said once the kiss ended. “I just said you weren’t getting near my ass today.”

  “As much as I love your arse, it doesn’t have to be involved in today’s proceedings.”

  Birch’s amusement was more the result of how grabby Henri was becoming as his arousal grew than what he was saying. It was like he wanted to touch every inch of skin all at the same time. He allowed Henri free rein and didn’t interfere until his cock was so painfully hard that he needed relief. He waited until Henri’s hand went back for the tenth time, and then wrapped his own hand around Henri’s.

  As though happy to be finally getting some direction, Henri threw the blankets back and took Birch in his mouth.

  “Tsss,” Birch hissed at the shock of liquid warmth that engulfed him. Henri worked his shaft with hand and mouth. “Ah.”

  Henri ran his free hand up over Birch’s stomach and chest as he massaged the sensitive skin behind Birch’s balls, his tongue circling against his frenulum.

  Travelling too close to the edge, Birch withdrew from Henri’s ministrations and worked to bring Henri as close to going over as he was. He wanted them to fall together.

  Chapter 11

  BIRCH, HENRI, and Jason were gathered at the table off to one side in the kitchen when Nate came in and wordlessly handed his phone to Jason. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Light from the screen reflected off Jason’s skin as he scrolled through a message. The light went off, and he and Nate sat staring at each other as if in a silent conversation.

  “Has to be a leak,” said Nate.

  Jason stared a moment longer before giving a sharp nod and taking out his phone. He dialled a number and waited. “Sergeant Sayer? Jason Lemalu. I have a message here from Russell Andrews that came to one of the phones you gave us.” Jason looked at the screen on Nate’s phone again as he listened. “I am telling you, Sergeant, you have a leak in your department.” His lips pressed together. “The message was undoubtedly intended for Henri.”

  At the mention of his name, Henri’s arms folded across his chest and tightened.

  “Other than us, only your people have the numbers for those phones. And it sure as hell wasn’t any of us that told him,” Jason said with barely contained frustration. “He’s probably already traced us here.” Rising, he paced. “I don’t care! Sort it. Because of someone at your department, we need a new place!”

  Jason killed the call and tossed the phone onto the table. “Nate, have you got a burner phone?”

  “Nope.”

  “Shit! We need out of here, and since we don’t even have a car of our own, we’ll need Mike to come in.”

  Birch didn’t understand why no one had even mentioned the obvious. “Can’t we just get one of the police to drive us out?”

  “Not fucken likely!” said Henri. “One of those pricks could be in Russell’s pocket. He’s already got to one of Sayer’s crew. Last thing we need is to be driven into Russell’s waiting arms.”

  Silence descended in the room. The only noise was the distant warbling of birds.

  “Can’t walk out,” said Nate finally. “Too much pasture, not enough trees. And no way am I betting he hasn’t got NVGs.”

  Birch didn’t like the sound of that. “NVGs?”

  “Night-vision goggles,” Henri muttered.

  The way Henri’s body moved, it was obvious his legs had begun jiggling beneath the table. From the fleeting glance, Birch guessed Russell must have used night vision to torment Henri at some point. He let the subject drop and reentered the heavy silence that had once again claimed the room.

  Jason’s sigh drew an unsolicited response from Nate. “It has to be one of the rooms on the main floor.”

  “Yeah, can’t trust him not to set fire to the place.”

  “I’ll scope them out.” Nate stood up.

  “We’ll sort the sensors.”

  Birch watched Nate leave the kitchen while Jason went to one of the cupboards beneath the island bench they often used. “What’s happening?”

  “We need to set up a secure room before we can call Mike. If Russell can monitor our calls, he’s going to know our plans at the same time we do.” Jason pulled a box from the cupboard. “If he suspects what we have planned, he can intervene.”

  “He probably already knows. Are we sure he can’t hear us?” The defeat in Henri’s voice was both terrifying and heart-rending. Birch didn’t know which worried him more—Henri’s state of mind or the possibility Russell might be listening to them right now.

  He was beginning to get a sense of the level of psychological torment Henri had undergone from the time he was aware Russell had been watching him up until when he was abducted. How he’d endured it for so long was inconceivable.

  Even though Henri sounded defeated, Birch admired the strength that lay beneath. It seemed the more he got to know Henri and understood what drove him, the more respect he had for him.

  Henri stood up and moved towards the door.

  “Stop!” Jason’s bark caused Birch to jump, but Henri didn’t even flinch. Usually Henri would’ve started at the sudden sound,
but it was like something inside him had died, sapping even his nervous energy.

  He turned around. “What?” His voice was flat, his eyes dull. If Birch didn’t know better, he’d think Henri was bored.

  “Stay with us,” said Jason. “You are not to go off on your own.”

  As Henri went back towards the table, Jason squatted to rummage in the cupboard.

  Drawing a chair right up next to Birch, Henri set his head against Birch’s shoulder in a silent request for comfort. Birch put his arm around him and kissed Henri’s hair before resting his cheek on the lowered head. His gaze was drawn to Jason, who had risen and stood unmoving at the island bench, eyes wide and lips parted as he watched the two of them.

  It never bothered Birch one way or the other who knew about their relationship, and Henri had never said anything about keeping it hidden. It just seemed to have stayed that way naturally—until now.

  Last night had been a definite turning point for Birch, but Henri hadn’t shared what it meant to him. Even now it was difficult to determine. Jason had kyboshed Henri’s first option—escape—and despite being happy to give Henri any comfort he could offer, Birch couldn’t help wanting Henri’s first option to be him.

  Jason turned his attention back to the goods he had stacked on the bench top and brought them to the table. Within minutes he had a vast array of plastic bags and little boxes bearing a range of labels spread before him. Birch had no difficulty understanding the purpose of those reading Receiver or Transmitter, but when it got to Transceivers and Thermocouples, he was lost. As long as Jason and Nate knew what they were doing, he would go along with the plan. He was well out of his depth.

  He continued to caress Henri’s shoulder as Jason opened and closed boxes and objects, snapped them together, grouped them, and packed some back in the boxes from which they came.