by Jez Morrow
Jack bent down, picked Martin up and carried him like a bride to the stairs.
Martin sputtered, “Jack, you have got to be kidding.”
Jack grinned, dark eyes gleaming. “Not hardly.”
He bounded up the stairs effortlessly. He laid Martin on his bed and crawled over him, panther-like—wolflike. Desire strained at the confines of their clothes.
Jack rubbed against him, feeling the responsive swelling of Martin’s erection through the maddening cloth, enflaming him.
Martin said, “Jack, I’m in pain here.”
“Then come out,” said Jack, sitting back on his heels.
The closure on Martin’s trousers turned out to be a button, not a snap, and it flew off with Jack’s too-enthusiastic pull. But he was intensely careful with the zipper. He slid his hand down inside Martin’s fly to protect Martin from the zipper teeth. The touch of his hand met with a gasp and a groan and a swelling of physical yearning.
The zipper parted and set Martin’s long, hard rod free.
Martin lay back, grasping at the sheets as Jack’s hands glided up and down his hard shaft.
Martin’s eyelids felt heavy. His chest heaved. He saw Jack’s face over him, the tender look in his eyes with a faint smile on his lips. It was a look of loving.
His touch was light, tormenting. Martin was already slick and ready. He wanted more, needed more. Unable to bear the enticement, Martin closed his hands ‘round Jack’s hands and held them tight around his cock. Martin pushed through the hard channel of Jack’s hard, splendid hands.
Immersed in pleasure, Martin’s body took over. His hips thrust upward, faster and faster. Restraint tore away, vanished. He held tight to those powerful hands holding his cock. Nothing existed in the universe but his need and Jack’s hands. He thrust and thrust.
Ecstasy swept over him, through him, an intense blinding bright rapture. His back arched off the bed. Martin came. Came hard, a lightning blaze, releasing hot wetness into his lover’s hands.
He shuddered at the last. Shuddered again.
At length he lay back, panting in blissful shock.
Then he was mortified.
He saw Jack’s lowered lids, his lips set in a smile of tender mockery. Martin was horribly embarrassed. “Oh shit.”
Jack laughed gently.
“I—I’m sorry,” Martin gasped.
“Don’t you dare be,” said Jack. His smile was positively wolfish.
“Oh hell, Jack, that’s not how that was supposed to go.”
Jack lifted an eyebrow. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes! But—”
“Then shut up. You know we can keep trying ‘til you think we’ve got it right.”
Martin sat up and nestled into Jack’s gathering arms. Jack’s hair tickled his face. He cried, not even sure why.
He nuzzled Jack’s chest, smelled him. “I never wanted to want you but God help me, I do.”
Jack kissed the top of his head. “I have absolutely no problems loving you. I’m the happiest son of a bitch on the planet.”
Jack laid him down again and stroked his skin.
Jack’s hands felt warm and sure on his body. Martin luxuriated under his masterful touch. The pleasure was terrifying. His breaths deepened. Sooner than he could have imagined his cock stirred.
Jack’s hands surrounded his head, kissed his eyes, kissed his mouth deeply and long. Jack’s body entwined with his. Martin moved with him to touch and be touched, trying to feel every part of this beautiful man.
With passion’s return, so came the fear. Martin lost the line between excitement and terror as if desire were a well he could drown in. He started to fight.
Jack wrestled him onto his back. Martin struggled.
Jack let go.
Martin gasped, scrambled up but he retreated only as far as the corner of the bed. He crouched there, naked and miserable. “I didn’t mean that. I want—I—”
Jack reached out his hand. Martin put his own hand into Jack’s. Jack drew him in, took him firmly in arms. “Here is how it will be—”
“I’m sorry, I want you. I do, I just—”
“Shut up.” Jack’s finger pressed to his lips. “You can cry, you can push me away, you can fight me all you have to—I can take you.”
Martin felt his brows go up, dubious. He was strong.
Jack assured him, “I can. And I will take you. You can say no. I’ll ignore you. But if you ever want me to stop—if you really want me to stop, say ‘stop.’ I will stop.” Then, he added lightly, “And if you really want to shut me completely off, just turn into a wolf. Believe me that would do it.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Jack.”
“Well, thank you, I would hate it.”
Jack laid Martin down and crouched over him. Martin lay fearful and trusting under Jack’s hungry gaze.
Jack bathed Martin’s body in passionate kisses. Jack’s intense masculinity shook Martin, frightened him. Just the feel of him, of Jack’s chest hair against his own chest. The male scent of him excited Martin past his ability to control.
Martin’s breaths quickened ‘til he was hyperventilating.
Then Jack’s big hands were caging his face. Jack’s dark hair moved with Martin’s heaving gasps. His gaze was loving and sure.
Jack’s deep voice reached inside him like a caress. “Slow down, sweetheart, we have all night.”
Jack bent his head down and Martin felt Jack’s tongue trace his eyebrows, his eyelids. Jack traced his jawline with his finger. Jack murmured, sounded amazed, “You’re so pretty.”
Martin sputtered, “Pretty?”
“You are,” said Jack. “Deal with it.”
Jack’s great strength surrounded him, his powerful hold wonderful and terrifying. Yet Martin struggled. He couldn’t stop himself. Martin was very strong for a slender man. Jack was stronger. Jack trapped Martin’s wrists over his head and held him down. Martin gazed up with wide, frightened eyes. Martin felt his narrow nostrils flaring. His chest rose and fell with drowning breaths, wanting Jack and fearing the wanting.
Martin whispered fervently, “I didn’t say stop.”
Jack’s fingers grazed his brow, moving a lock of hair off his forehead. Jack’s strong features were tender, thoughtful. A pinch formed in Jack’s brow “Martin, would you mind if I tied you up?”
Martin came down from panic. He felt his own brow tighten. He asked, “Are you into that?”
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I’ve never done it. Want to?”
Martin hesitated. “I—” His eyes were on Jack’s lips. Torn between passion and terror he murmured, “Guess so.”
Jack kissed him playfully before he pushed himself off the bed. Jack’s voice carried from the closet. “This has got to be why God invented ugly ties.” Jack came out holding two ties. “And why the Navy taught me how to tie a knot.”
Martin threw his arms out to his sides on the bed in surrender. “Just do it before I change my mind.”
The ties were silk. Martin didn’t give a rip what they looked like. Jack tied first one wrist, then the other to the bedposts. Martin submitted, wary. He knew his eyes were enormous. He could get away anytime. A wolf’s paw was nowhere near as big as a man’s hand. Escape would be easy.
The knowing was enough. Martin did not want to get away.
Jack stood back just looking at him, the expression in his dark eyes intense. Martin felt Jack’s gaze on his naked body like a physical touch.
Martin’s eyelids fluttered as if in pain. He could not meet Jack’s eyes. He felt the burn in his own cheeks, felt the fiery hunger smoldering in the core of his being.
Martin cried with his eyes shut, “Jack, I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more naked but this is it.”
He felt the mattress dip as Jack crawled onto the bed.
Jack’s hand sliding up his leg made him shiver. Jack lifted Martin’s leg, kissed him within the bend of his knee. He positioned his broad shoulders under Martin’s knees. He mo
ved forward to hover over Martin like a hungry wolf.
Jack’s voice was deep and sexual. “Don’t be afraid of me.”
Martin opened his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He was afraid of the extremity of feeling, the overpowering, all-consuming sensations that made him lose himself. Martin was accustomed to being in control. Jack stripped that from him. It didn’t matter that Jack was there to make certain he landed softly. The fear of falling had no mind.
Martin gave the ties an experimental tug. His soul tumbled into the depths of Jack’s eyes. “Take me.”
Martin strained at the bonds, grateful that they gave him something to fight against that wasn’t Jack—because Jack was glorious. Everywhere Jack’s lips touched his body was on fire. Everywhere Jack’s hands stroked him was silken splendor.
Jack bent close over him and pressed Martin’s swollen cock against his muscular torso.
Martin’s hands splayed wide, then closed tight on his bonds. Cries imprisoned in his throat sounded as aching moans.
Jack’s hot manhood, made slick from its own wanting, slid against his ass.
“Now!” Martin pleaded. “Now!”
Jack’s hardness penetrated him with a shock wave of sensation, his motion slaking his thirst and stoking his fire.
Martin felt transcendent, his soul lifting halfway to heaven while his body stayed grounded in savage, earthly joy. Above him, all he could see was Jack, his body straining, his face enraptured. Martin rocked with him. Their hips moved together in one rhythm.
Jack’s thrusts came faster, desperate.
A ragged breath, a cry of ecstasy tore free from Martin’s throat. His release was scintillating fire, a throbbing pulsation that went on and on as his lover held him tight. Wave on wave rippled through his body in exquisite spasms of pleasure.
The brilliance, the fire receded slowly, like the lapping of waves from an eternal sea. Martin lay panting, enjoying the weight of Jack on him, Jack’s kisses on his neck, glorying in pleasure’s echoes.
Jack reached above him to untie Martin’s wrists.
Set free, Martin let his arms drape strengthlessly around Jack’s strong shoulders. He buried his face against Jack’s neck.
In time, Jack rolled off to lie on his back, resting, completely relaxed, spent, enjoying the peace, not sure who had ravished who. Martin had come all over his abdomen and he was sticky. The dark hairs on his flat belly were matted down. It was kind of sweet and funny. It made him smile.
Martin sat up lazily, moved to sit astride Jack, just gazing at him. Then he leaned over him, reached up to the bedpost to retrieve one of the ties. He toyed with it. Jack eyed him guardedly. But instead of trying to tie him up, Martin absently placed the tie around Jack’s neck and started tying the knot. It was a nonsensical thing to do. The tie was just there and Jack was there. It was as if Martin were dressing him for work. Like a wife might. Jack liked that image. Except that, other than the tie, he was naked.
Martin adjusted the knot then laid his palm on Jack’s chest. He tilted his head appraisingly. “You’re right,” Martin murmured. “That’s a really ugly tie.”
Jack chuckled. He covered Martin’s hand with his own, picked it up, pressed a kiss into Martin’s palm, then pressed his palm to his heart. “I have gotten very fond of this tie in the past hour.”
Martin frowned, shook his head. “Doesn’t make it any less ugly.”
Jack smiled. “Trust me, it looks much better on you.” He lifted Martin’s palm from his chest and turned his wrist over. It looked so narrow and vulnerable in Jack’s big hands. There was no bruising.
Jack sat up suddenly, flipping Martin off him and onto his back. Jack pinned Martin down by his wrists and asked him, nose to nose, “You sleepy?”
Martin looked up at him, sleepily, from below heavy lids. “That really, really depends on what you have in mind, Jack.”
“I did promise to feed you.”
Jack let him up. He tugged at the knot of the ugly tie ‘round his neck, and ducked his head out of the tie’s loop. He went into the master bath to take a shower. He would have loved to bring Martin in with him, but then they would never get to dinner.
They finally got around to eating in the middle of the night. Jack watched Martin’s shy fleeting smiles across the breakfast table. He reached across, took Martin’s hand and kissed it.
Afterward Jack led Martin up to the rooftop.
The night was foggy, murky cold. Street lamps showed as hazy beacons. Wolf-keen sight made everything seem bright.
Jack watched Martin prowl the roof. He crossed his arms, surveyed the high ledge overlooking Jack’s urban domain. “This has gotta be a wolf thing,” said Martin and turned to him. “Ever come up here as a wolf?”
Jack nodded. “Sometimes I sleep up here.”
Martin looked ‘round as if trying to envision it, the black wolf curled up here on his mountain ledge. “Ever howl?”
Jack shook his head but admitted, “Really tempting.”
“Discipline,” said Martin.
“Yeah, discipline.” Jack took Martin’s hand and guided him into the darker darkness behind the roof access structure. The access to the stairs cast a shadow within the night’s shadow that sheltered the two of them from sight of the street. Jack nuzzled Martin behind his ear.
“Oh no, Jack.”
He didn’t sound like he really meant it.
Jack pulled Martin back against him. Martin’s taut lean body pressed against his was an indescribable turn-on.
Jack slid his hands up inside Martin’s shirt, feeling Martin’s flat, hard chest. He found a nipple and gently pinched it. Martin’s body flinched against him. His head fell back against his shoulder.
Jack slid his other hand down into the front of Martin’s trousers. Martin’s light gasp melted into a groan. Jack found Martin’s cock roused into a painful bend. He delighted in easing him up straight into the palm of his hand.
Martin groaned, his breath rising in clouds around both of them. Martin’s body molded into his. Martin leaned into him and began to slowly rock, moving his erection against Jack’s hand, his ass against Jack’s inflamed groin.
Jack tore Martin’s shirt open. The buttons went flying.
Humping him through the maddening barrier of their clothes, Jack groped Martin’s heaving chest, his other hand kneading his cock, his balls.
“Come inside,” Martin begged raggedly.
“Let’s stay out here,” Jack murmured into his shoulder. He dragged his lips up a strong tendon in the side of Martin’s neck, his hot breath puffing against Martin’s ear.
“No, I mean come inside.” Martin unzipped and pulled his trousers down around his thighs.
Jack moaned. He jerked his own trousers down. His cock gleamed in the darkness. Jack seized Martin’s hips and plunged his erection inside him. He felt, heard Martin’s pleasured moans accepting him into the hot, tight embrace of his body.
Deep inside his lover, Jack reached around to Martin’s cock, adoring him with both hands while he thrust. Martin’s hard-corded thighs rode atop on his own thighs, moving with him, accepting, begging for the power of his driving need. Martin’s motions heightened the delicious thirst, the ecstatic torment.
Time suspended in elation. The embrace of the night held them in their own world of bright darkness high on their wolf lookout in the cold open air.
One heart, one breath, joined into one flesh in a timeless feral rhythm. A blaze rose between them too hot to let burn, a need that must be met now.
It was the most desperate, savage joining, an ecstatic climax. Love came like a burning bright fountain. Jack released his all into Martin’s body. The wet heat of Martin’s passion spilled over his hands.
Jack held him tight, extending the moment, throbbing, his sex inside Martin. Moisture glittered on his eyelashes. Panting, he exhaled fire.
Martin dropped to his knees, steam rolling off his heated sides.
Jack was instantly
afraid he had been too rough. He crouched over him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, Jack,” Martin laughed, sobbed, “I don’t give a rip.”
Chapter Six
Martin’s sleep was brief but deep and sated, nestled in Jack’s arms.
Martin had to catch a cab at 5:00 a.m. because he needed to stop home before going to work. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him and they had not been able to find all his buttons on the roof.
Jack chided him for lack of planning.
“I couldn’t presume,” Martin said, sheepishly. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“Martin,” Jack rebuked him with his name. “I’m a sure thing.”
Martin laid his palm on Jack’s broad chest. “I know, Jack.”
Jack kissed him goodbye on the doorstep. Hands holding Martin’s waist, Jack gazed deep into his eyes, his brows knit. He asked, “Can I see you again?”
Martin sniggered, happy, giddy. “You are such a prick.”
* * * * *
“What are you doing here, Winter?” the clerk challenged Martin in the lobby of the Hoover Building. Martin had lost his keycard and hadn’t received his new one yet, so he could not let himself through the locked inner doors.
Why was he here, the clerk wanted to know. The question puzzled Martin. “I work here?” he suggested.
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, like hell!” Martin threw down the pen. Bad enough that he had to sign in like a visitor. “Let me talk to someone who is someone.”
The clerk paged someone upstairs.
Special Agent Larry Hunter allowed Martin in as his visitor. The clerked buzzed Martin in.
“Do you know the way?” the clerk asked.
Martin didn’t know if the clerk was being snide, so he didn’t call him an asshole. He just clipped on his visitor’s tag, opened the buzzing door and went in.
Martin took the elevator up to his third-floor office. He found his office locked, with someone else’s things inside it.
Larry Hunter seemed to take pleasure in informing Martin that he was on administrative leave.
Still on a euphoric glide from last night, Martin could not get too angry. He was only irritated. “You might have called me and told me about that before I came in to work.”