Kort’s Treasure

by Charlie Richards

  It was so damn close!

  Mace whined. Unable to help himself, he rested his hand over Kort’s wrist. He pushed, not trying to knock the creature’s hand away, but attempting to slide his hand deeper into his pants. Mace ached with need more than he ever remembered and wasn’t too proud to ask... with his body anyway.

  “Hmm, yes, Mace,” Kort purred. “I like that you show me what you want... what you need.”

  Without any more urging, Kort’s large hand dug deeper into his pants. His long, thick fingers wrapped around Mace’s aching shaft. Kort quickly set up a rhythm, jacking him swiftly.

  Mace moaned and arched, pushing into Kort’s grip. He tightened his fingers on the gargoyle’s wrist, using his hold for leverage. Rocking between the hand stripping his erection and the big body behind him, he realized vaguely that the ridge of a massive erection rubbed along the valley of his cheeks on each stroke.

  Then, Mace felt his balls tighten. His body trembled as his orgasm crashed over him in wave upon wave of pleasure. Black spots danced across his vision as his testicles forced streams of cum up his erection in bliss-inducing pulses.

  Panting hard, Mace floated on heady endorphins. He grunted and wriggled as his prick became oversensitive in Kort’s hold. He sighed when the male released his softening penis, only to thread his fingers through Mace’s pubes and palm his groin.

  Kort growled softly behind him. His big body jolted at about the same time as Mace felt his new lover’s lips press against his neck. The noise escaping Kort turned into a moan of pleasure just as warm fluid soaked through the seat of Mace’s pants.

  “Mace,” Kort gasped, ever so quietly.

  As Mace came down from his pleasure, he realized just what he’d done. It was not the fact that he was being held by what essentially constituted a beast that bothered him so much. Instead, it was the realization that said beast had just given him the greatest pleasure of his life.

  Mace had just lost his virginity a few weeks ago to an asshole. That experience hadn’t felt half as amazing as the hand job he’d just received from this male.

  How could that be possible?

  Jerking away from Kort, Mace rolled from the bed. His feet hit the floor with a thud. Turning back to face the bed, he stared down at the creature—gargoyle. Sprawled out on the bed, his big muscles on display, Mace wanted to climb back into bed and explore every dip, ridge, and indentation... with his tongue.

  That scared him even more.

  “I-I need to go,” Mace whispered. “I need to think.”

  “Mace, please wait,” Kort pleaded, pushing to a sitting position. “I know you have questions. Please let me answer them.”

  Mace held up his good hand and took a step backward. He shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the French doors. Spinning, Mace reached them in two strides and fled out the doors.

  The lights illuminating the yard were almost blinding after the dimness of the bedroom. Half blind, Mace picked a direction and started walking. He blinked quickly until his eyes focused and he could make out his surroundings.

  There was a large back deck a couple of feet off the ground on the left. The massive lawn was beautifully landscaped. To the right was a garden... a big garden.

  Mace headed toward it. Even if he couldn’t lose the gargoyle should he decide to follow—hell, Kort could fly—maybe he could hide among the hedges and buy himself some time to think.

  Chapter Six

  Waking from roost, Kort stood and stretched. He twisted his back and lifted his arms over his head. After rubbing his hands over his face, he stared down at the gardens.

  Instantly, he remembered the day before—both the highs and the lows.

  Kort had loved holding Mace. He’d reveled in the opportunity to touch and massage his mate. The way the human had responded to his trilling had been so fucking amazing. Then, to feel his lover fall apart in his arms... sexier than anything he’d ever experienced. He’d lost his own load against Mace’s backside.

  As much as Kort wanted to do it all over again with Mace...many, many times... he knew talking was much more important. Plus, he had to track his sweet lover down. His mate had run from him, after all.

  Fortunately, Mace hadn’t run far.

  Kort had looked out the window of the French doors and watched Mace run into the gardens. He’d followed him into the labyrinth of trails, staying at a discreet distance. When Kort had seen Mace stop and settle on a garden bench in a fairly hidden alcove, he’d pulled out his phone. He’d texted their location, along with a brief explanation and request for help.

  Both Perseus and Wren had joined him a few minutes later.

  Kort had watched Wren take a pair of sweats and a packet of wet ones and disappear into the little alcove where Mace had taken refuge.

  Perseus had clapped a hand on his shoulder, then guided him out of the garden. Kort had wished he could be the one to calm his mate. Still, he understood that speaking with another human helped them accept the changes in reality.

  “Mace is still in the gardens.”

  Kort turned and found Perseus leaning against a chimney ten feet away. He was in gargoyle form, his pale green hide shining off the lights illuminating the back yard. He offered Kort an encouraging smile.

  “You’ll have to track him down, though,” Perseus added. “I think he’s wandering.” He scoffed. “He does like gardening. He decided to weed for an hour this afternoon until Wren thought he was working too hard.”

  “Mace was working too hard?” Kort asked, worry filling him. “Is he okay?”

  Perseus chuckled softly as he pushed away from the wall. He held up a hand, stalling Kort’s desire to ask more questions. “Relax. Mace is fine,” he assured. “I tried to explain to Wren that a small amount of exercise isn’t going to hurt him. Especially since most of it was done while kneeling.” He grinned. “Hell, some sunshine is good for him.”

  Kort growled softly as he glared at Perseus. “He’s perfect just the way he is, Doc,” he snapped.

  Lifting his hands in placation, Perseus nodded. “Fair enough,” he replied.

  Thrusting his hand through his shock of white hair, Kort grimaced. Chagrined, he scowled, more at himself than at Perseus. “Sorry.”

  When Kort had first scented Mace on Wren, he’d immediately felt... desire. Now, though, after watching him for several days, smelling his scent, and finally being able to touch him? Kort felt nothing but lust. He constantly envisioned bending the sweet smelling human over the nearest flat surface and fucking hard and long until neither of them could walk.

  Kort had never experienced such strong desires. Having no frame of reference to gauge the pleasures of sex, he struggled with how to control his impulses. Obviously, the approach last night had perks, but how badly had he set himself back? Should he admit to someone that his playboy status was totally bogus?

  “Wren spent a while with Mace today,” Perseus told him, cutting into his thoughts. “They had the paranormals are real talk. Wren eventually brought him in to me, and I explained gargoyles and mates to him.” He offered an encouraging smile. “I can imagine he’ll have plenty of questions for you.”

  Nodding, Kort looked toward the garden. While he appreciated Perseus and Wren sharing about their world with Mace, he wondered if it would have been better coming from him. Wanting to trust in the mate-bond, Kort decided baby steps might be in order.

  “Has he eaten supper?” Kort asked softly. When he woke from roost, he was always hungry. Plus, in his excitement during the wee hours of the morning, he’d forgotten to eat supper. “I could take him a meal.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Perseus agreed. “Just be sure to take a few wet ones.” He smiled as he added, “He can’t seem to keep his hands, well, his good one anyway, out of the dirt for long.”

  They swooped down from the roof, landing on a large second story deck. As they headed into the house, Perseus added, “Remember the mate p
ull will be strong in him, too. He’ll probably be unsettled by his desires.” Striding through the halls side by side, Perseus bumped shoulders with him. “Go slow, but not too slow.” He winked. “You’ll just frustrate you both that way.”

  Kort jerked a nod. He cut a look toward Perseus, then mumbled, “It feels a hell of a lot stronger than anything I’ve ever—” He paused in his speech and grimaced. He felt his face heating and he was grateful for his already red cheeks. “I just wonder if it’s different.”

  “Oh,” Perseus replied. He nodded swiftly. “It’s very different.” He patted him on the shoulder and smirked. “Whatever you experienced with your past lovers, well, it’s far more intense.”

  Nodding, Kort decided to leave it at that. “Okay,” he mumbled. Forcing his lips into a wide grin, he told the doc, “Glad it’s not just me.”

  They started walking again.

  “I also want to remind you that once you’ve completed your bond, molt doesn’t have to hurt as much as we thought,” Perseus told him. “Keep Mace close and have him drape across your chest.”

  Kort lifted his right brow ridge quizzically. “Have him drape over my chest? Why?”

  “Yep, over your chest,” Perseus confirmed. “His touch dulls the painful fire of your body changing,” he explained. “If he’s not wearing clothes, your mate can do a lot to soothe the burn of change.” He shrugged and gave him a pointed look. “If you’re willing to let him see you go through the process, that is.”

  Kort nodded slowly as they finished their journey to the dining hall. After walking inside the large space, Perseus tapped Kort’s shoulder and beckoned him toward the far end. Following the doctor, Kort found himself at the counter, pass-through where they left their dishes.

  “Hey, Doc. Hey, Kort,” Sumak greeted, joining them at the window on the other side. He waggled his black-colored brow ridges—Sumak was the only gargoyle Kort knew who painted his brows—as he asked, “How are you both doing this fine, fine morning?”

  Perseus snorted. “Keep your perviness to yourself,” he said even as he grinned at the gargoyle who so often acted as a bus boy and dishwasher. “You just go get what Wren left for Kort.”

  Sumak snickered. Winking, he stated, “If you wanted to see my sweet ass, all you have to do was say so, Doc.” Then, he turned, wiggling his slender hips exaggeratedly, his pale purple tail swishing from side to side, he disappeared deeper into the kitchen.

  “Wren left something for me?” Kort couldn’t help but ask now that the small gargoyle flirt was out of earshot. “What is it?”

  Smiling, Perseus turned back to face him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip on the wall. “A picnic basket,” he told Kort. “I knew you’d wake up hungry and Mace hasn’t eaten a whole lot today.” He smirked. “Besides, sharing information over a meal is the best way to get to know each other.”

  “I appreciate that. Thanks,” Kort replied, relieved he wouldn’t have to guess at what Mace liked to eat. His mate had been Wren’s employee for a while, right? The human chef would know. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to make a meal for him in the future. Maybe that was something they could discuss. “I’ll pick up a blanket from my room, get cleaned up, and head out there.”

  Perseus nodded. He straightened, then clapped Kort on his shoulder. “We’ve all been waiting a long time for our mates,” he murmured. “It’s about damn time Fate rewarded our patience.”

  Kort chuckled and winked at Perseus. “Don’t let Fate hear you say that.”

  “Hell, no,” the doc muttered, his brow ridges furrowing.

  Sumak reappeared, holding a large picnic basket. “Wow, this thing smells amazing,” he commented. “Whooeee! If you don’t eat it all, whatever the hell it is, I’ll eat the rest.”

  Laughing at the small, purple gargoyle’s antics, Kort shook his head. “Not a chance. Give Perseus money and have him buy whatever it is from Wren at his restaurant,” he told him, grabbing the large basket and pulling it toward him. The scent emanating from the basket—hash brown casserole, bacon, sausage, eggs, and a few other things—really did smell amazing. “This is all mine and Mace’s.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sumak jibed back. He grinned and dipped his head. “Big congrats, Kort. We’re all happy for you.”

  “Thanks,” Kort responded.

  Suddenly impatient to see Mace, Kort picked up the basket. He turned and, after giving both men a nod and another round of thanks, he headed out of the dining hall. He just managed to keep from jogging to his room. Truth be told, that was more because he didn’t want to jostle the food rather than any amount of dwindling patience.

  Kort left the basket on his bed and found a few single-use wet naps in his nightstand. He shoved them into the basket as he noted that someone had straightened the quilt and his bedroom still smelled deliciously of Mace. After doing a quick round of clean-up, he grabbed a fresh loincloth and tied it in place. He grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and tossed it over his shoulder. Finally, Kort picked up the basket and headed out the French doors.

  As Kort walked through one of several entrances to the gardens, he found himself assaulted by a case of nerves. He paused and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, Kort closed his eyes and focused on relaxing his shoulders.

  Feeling somewhat settled, Kort tipped his head back a bit, opened his mouth and used his tongue to scent the wind. As a gargoyle, he had dozens of extra receptors on the long, mobile appendage. He could use it to track someone or differentiate ingredients in a recipe, which made it nearly impossible to poison them. They could even ascertain emotions hidden by a clever paranormal if they licked their skin.

  While Mace’s scent was light on the breeze, it was there. Kort figured the young human had passed by that way at some point, but it must have been a few hours before. As Kort began walking, he continued to search for traces of his human.

  Kort figured it would have been easier to fly overhead and search for Mace that way. Still, he kept his wings tucked around his shoulders, wanting to seem more... normal wasn’t the word, but not as different, perhaps? He wanted Mace to find similarities, not point out even more differences between them.

  After a few cautious turns, Kort picked up Mace’s trail. He sped up his pace. After turning a corner that opened up to a small clearing, he spotted Mace seated on a stone bench next to a fountain. Pausing, Kort admired the man’s small stature and thick hair. He’d loved running his claws through the man’s hair and wanted to do it again.

  As if sensing Kort’s stare, Mace turned his head and looked his way. He instantly straightened in his seat. He licked his lips and swept his gaze over Kort’s large form.

  “K-Kort? Is that you?”

  “It is,” Kort responded, trying not to be affronted that the man didn’t recognize him.

  Kort saw Mace’s face flush, turning a rosy hue in the light of the lamps illuminating the garden fountain and clearing. He admired the color and found his gaze riveted to the pink tongue swiping along Mace’s lower lip. For a few seconds, the sound of the trickling fountain was the only sound heard in the clearing.

  “I-I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you right away,” Mace sputtered. “I, um—” He flushed deeper. “There wasn’t much light in the bedroom this morning and um—”

  Jerking out of his stupor, Kort started toward him again. He shook his head as he smiled. “Don’t think on it. While I was surprised, I can understand your hesitation.” He offered his human a wry smile. “I think I was more worried about you thinking we all looked alike, and that’s why you didn’t recognize me,” he admitted.

  Mace scoffed and offered a shy smile. He glanced toward the ground, only to peer at Kort through his lashes. “Uh, no. Definitely not,” he responded. “I’ve seen a few gargoyles wandering the area and you guys definitely don’t look alike.” Then he pressed his lips together, making them turn a bit white, before whispering, “None of them are as sexy as you, what wit
h your striking red hide and white wings and hair. Totally stunning.”

  With how quietly Mace had said the words, Kort wasn’t certain the man intended for him to hear them, but he did. Kort couldn’t help but feel pride at how his mate viewed him. The closer he walked to Mace, the more arousal he felt, too.

  Kort paused a few feet from the bench, using the bit of distance to regain control. “I find you sexy as well, Mace,” he admitted, then he waved toward the bench where Kort sat. “May I join you?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh, yeah,” Mace responded, somehow managing to get the words out around the lump in his throat. “Of course.”

  Kort thought he was sexy? No one had ever called him sexy before. Overweight, absolutely. Cute, sure. Hot, only when Jessup wanted sex.

  Kort setting a basket on the bench beside Mace pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over to see the gargoyle spreading a large red and yellow blanket on the dirt ground between the bench he sat on and the one to his right. Bending over, he smoothed out the corners.

  Still, it was the way his large white wings billowed around him that really caught Mace’s eye. They looked leathery, but so soft. He wanted to feel them. Mace reached out to touch, but before he made contact, Kort started talking. Mace yanked his hand back.

  “I brought a meal,” Kort told him. He turned and met Mace’s gaze as he waved toward the basket, looking a little sheepish. “Obviously.” He picked it up and moved it to the blanket, then returned his focus to Mace. “Wren made it, so I’m not certain on specifics. From the smell, I’d say breakfast food, so I hope you don’t mind eggs and bacon and that kind of stuff for your supper.”

  Mace found himself smiling. “You can’t beat Wren’s cooking,” he murmured. “His breakfasts keep his restaurant in business.” He slid to his knees on one side of the blanket as he watched Kort open the basket. “And he recently found this hash brown casserole recipe that is just drool-worthy. I mean, I can be completely stuffed and I could still eat it.”