Last Wish

by Shelley Munro

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re taking a big chance.” Dillon’s scowl attempted intimidation and it pissed Zane off.

  “I might let you direct me in the bedroom but that’s as far as it goes. Once I am totally free, I will answer to no one but myself.” It felt good saying the words, exerting his opinion instead of acting the good little genie. Your wish is my command.

  “But you’re acting like a girl in a horror movie. You’re walking down the stairs into the cellar even though you know there’s a monster waiting for you.”

  Zane puffed up with indignation, his temper straining at the leash. “You calling me stupid?” What did the human know? Nothing! Dillon wouldn’t like having his freedom curtailed in the same manner as a genie. True, it had been a good life at the start, but he was tired of the easy life and wanted a true challenge. He wanted to live.

  “If the hat fits. Why don’t you stay here where it’s safe? You have what, nine days to wait? It’s not long in the scheme of things.”

  “Maybe not for you. I’ve been planning my freedom for the last one hundred and twelve years. Not many genies have gained their freedom in that time. I intend to be the next.”

  “But—” Dillon cut off and stared, shock rippling across his golden face. “One hundred and twelve years? Exactly how old are you?”

  “Older than you. Look, I know I’m taking a risk, but what happens if I stay here, hiding in your house, and end up captured anyway? I don’t expect you to understand, but I need to move about the town when the need strikes me. The walls close in and start to feel like the teapot. At least this way I’m living, I’m experiencing life while I wait for my freedom to become official. It’s not as if I’m going to go around introducing myself as a genie. I’m not stupid. We’re friends from university. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” Dillon hauled him into his arms and hugged him tightly before releasing him just as quickly. “I get it. I’d go crazy waiting around, so I can hardly expect you to stay hidden, but for the record, I think going out in public is asking for trouble.”

  “I’m going,” Zane stated. “Cut my hair for me. Help me with a disguise. Be my friend.” His voice almost cracked on saying the last thing. True friends were rare in the genie world. Too much intrigue and politics at court. Dillon’s friendship, even though they’d barely known each other for a day, was something special. And the way the man made love wasn’t bad either. A quiver of awareness shot straight to his groin. Oh yeah. He’d known there was a reason he hadn’t worn clothes since he’d arrived. His gaze shifted from his erection to Dillon.

  The other man shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching a fraction. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “I am.” But not for food. His dry spell had ended in a spectacular manner yesterday and he intended to repeat the pleasure as many times as he could manage. Zane snagged his lover’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, a blatant hint of what he needed. Once he reached the ruffled bed, he released Dillon and rolled onto the middle of the mattress, heedless of the mess of covers. He relaxed on his back, his arms and legs loose and limber at his sides. “Come and get me.”

  Dillon cocked his head to one side, a lazy grin on his tanned face. “What would happen if I handcuffed you?” Although his words were teasing, Zane heard the silent underlying question and inwardly thanked the man for his empathy—because he also heard the real desire to actually carry out the action. Handcuffed. A tremor of apprehension froze him in place. Yes, he’d pretty much let the human direct what they’d done together sexually—mostly, anyhow, he thought with a smirk—but could he let Dillon bind him, leaving him helpless? Because he would be vulnerable since he couldn’t use his magic to free himself. Dillon shifted his weight. On seeing the hypnotic flex of the human’s pectorals, temptation whispered through his mind. His cock pulsed and thickened while energy coiled in a molten ball inside, telling Zane his body liked the idea of more sex. It was his mind that lagged in enthusiasm, for handcuffs at any rate. What would happen if Dillon restrained him and refused to let him go? What if Dillon forced him to use his magic?

  After a long silence Dillon finally moved closer. His muscles rippled when he crawled over the mattress, attracting Zane’s attention. Mesmerized by Dillon’s masculine beauty, he stared at his muscular torso, ridged abs and flat stomach. His gaze lowered to take in his rapidly filling dick. Zane licked his lips but didn’t move, instead waiting for the human to make the next move. His breath hissed out when Dillon stroked his belly. Pent-up desire flared and automatically his hips strained upward, silently begging for more. Dillon ignored his erection, instead petting and caressing his hips, his thighs, his chest. A quiver raced through him, seeming to terminate in his balls. His cock throbbed, desperately in need of his partner’s close attention.

  “Can I cuff you?”

  Silence throbbed between them.

  Zane didn’t know what to do. Oh he knew there would be pleasure. The flush of arousal in the human’s face made that clear. He bit his bottom lip, wondering what Dillon would do if he said no. The idea of foregoing sex or having to do the job himself didn’t hold much appeal.

  “I’m not going to force you.” Dillon leaned over to gently kiss him on the lips. When Zane would have tempted him to take the kiss deeper, the human pulled away. “I’m not going to arouse you so much that you can’t think clearly either,” he added.

  Zane swallowed, realizing that Dillon wanted him to verbally agree so later there could be no accusations. Hell, the word “yes” trembled on the tip of his tongue but fear was stronger. He’d made bad decisions in the past, allowing his then lover to entice him into using magic. That mistake had ended in his recapture and another contract.

  “I’ll go and make us something to eat,” Dillon said quietly.

  “No! I—” Zane broke off, unable to say the words. He wanted to so badly but couldn’t.

  “We’ll make love then,” Dillon said.

  Zane tried to read him but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Dillon wasn’t showing anger, he wasn’t displaying disappointment or trying to taunt him into agreeing. He…he…damn, the man confused him. Before he could speak or attempt to explain his trepidation, Dillon moved over him, pressing his body deep into the mattress. With a hoarsely voiced curse, Zane strained upward, seeking a kiss. Their lips met in a rough exploration, noses bumping together before they managed the perfect fit. Dillon’s erection rubbed across his stomach, leaving a damp trail. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body and his heart jumped when Dillon thrust against him. Zane groaned, starting to breathe hard. Their bodies slid together with exquisite friction, cocks grinding into torsos while the scent of aroused males filled the air.

  “I need you,” Dillon muttered, drawing away without warning. He grabbed the lube and smeared some over his dick before squeezing another dollop into his hand. “Spread for me, genie.”

  Wordlessly, Zane spread his legs, hips lifting upward. His breath caught as he waited, watching the heat in the other man’s face. The icy-cool gel made him flinch when it hit his hole but the shock quickly passed, especially when Dillon slipped a finger inside. Another almost pained groan escaped at the feeling of pleasure and the quick rhythm that Dillon set up. In. Out. A quick foray across his gland. Zane winced a little when Dillon added another finger, feeling a bit sore after an afternoon and night of loving.

  “You okay?” Concern laced his voice.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He meant it. Dillon had noticed his discomfort. For a human he noticed lots of things, and it warmed him, making him feel as if he were important. “Fuck me,” he said. “Please.”

  “My pleasure.” With one final stroke across his gland that had him sizzling, Dillon removed his fingers and lined up his cock. He glided inside easily, pausing to kiss Zane deeply before withdrawing and stroking inside again.

  “Harder,” Zane whispered. The sense of fullness created an edge of pain that hadn’t been present before. Probably because he wasn’t used to
being so active. Not that he intended to ask Dillon to stop. Each stroke, each brush of their chests added to the electric pleasure simmering through his body. And whenever Dillon nailed the spongy mass of his prostrate, it set off a ripple effect. “Please. Harder. I won’t break.”

  “But it feels so damned good,” Dillon protested lightly, continuing his steady pace. “I don’t want it to end too soon.” He punctuated his words with a slow gliding stroke that buried him to the root and set off Zane. His entire body jerked. He didn’t come but his balls were so damned tight he couldn’t decide what hurt most.

  “It’s all right for you.” Desperate for relief, he forced his hands between their straining bodies, intending to grab his cock and gain relief.

  “No.” Dillon batted his hands away. “I’ll do it.” He wrapped his hands around Zane’s cock and pumped firmly. Two pumps were all it took before the electric feel of orgasm raced up his spine. He cried out, his body convulsing with the force of release. Hot spurts of cum splashed on both of them. Dillon thrust rapidly, pistoning his hips and groaning at the contractions that squeezed his cock. “Hell,” Dillon said with a trace of urgency. He thrust for a final time before freezing, a warm wash of semen flooding Zane’s ass.

  The pulsing had barely ended when Dillon withdrew and pulled him into a tight embrace. They were both breathing fast, their hearts still thudding from their intense releases. Zane nuzzled his lover’s neck, breathing in the clean scent of sweat and masculine musk. He licked Dillon’s neck, savoring the salty tang before nipping him. He pulled back, surveying the red mark of possession with satisfaction. His heart felt light and he realized the sensation was happiness. He hadn’t felt like that for a long time.

  Finally Dillon climbed off the bed and returned from the en suite a few minutes later with a damp cloth. He cleaned the stickiness from Zane’s body before tossing it aside and stretching out alongside him again. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before,” he said, pressing a kiss to Zane’s jaw. His lips were soft and in stark contrast with his bristly cheek. “It was bloody good. Thank you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, fatigue hitting him suddenly. “It was great.” His eyelids flickered, wanting to close. Soon he gave up the fight and let them, exhausted by the spectacular sex.

  Dillon ran a hand down his back and over his butt, pulling him even closer, arranging his pliant body against his chest. “It doesn’t matter how we do it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across his lips. “It’s always good with you. We can do it however you want.”

  “Okay.” Relief tinged with warmth filled him on hearing the words. No pressure. Most lovers would have insisted, but Dillon was proving different and starting to change his assumptions about humans. Special, Zane thought, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

  * * * * *

  Three hours later, after a leisurely start, they headed off to town. Zane had never ridden on a motorbike before. He clutched the human’s hips and leaned into a bend just as Dillon had instructed him. The rush of air and wind ripped away his holler of delight. The trip into the town took fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of pure exhilaration. By the time they arrived, Zane knew he wanted one of these machines. Dillon grabbed a small backpack he’d fastened on the back of the bike behind where he had sat. They left their helmets with the bike and walked from the small car park at the edge of town.

  The square was practically deserted, the area in the middle once again restored to grass. A New Zealand flag fluttered from a pole at the far end of the square, snapping imperiously every now and then, as if it desired admiration. Zane heard the muted approach of a vehicle, but it didn’t appear in the square, the purr of the engine moving away instead. They walked around the edge, keeping to the cobblestone pavement instead of crossing the grass in the center. Large Christmas decorations—candles and bells—hung from lamp posts while many of the shop windows were festooned with trees and colored lights. Barrels of colorful flowers sat outside a florist’s shop, but not a single pedestrian lingered to sniff their fragrance. The few he saw hurried about their business with heads bowed. They reminded him of scuttling insects. “Is it usually this quiet?”

  “The locals are frightened. Fancy a drink at the café? We should be able to find some info there.” Dillon paused to gauge his reaction, winking when he caught Zane ogling him. Heck, one glimpse of the human’s powerful shoulders and dark eyes was enough to make him go all sappy inside. Disgusted with his reaction, he ripped his gaze away and stared in the window of a clothes shop instead.

  A stranger stared back.

  Zane did a double take. That was him—his reflection. His hair was gone, his scalp devoid of hair. Bald. Damn, it gleamed in the morning light. Dillon had applied a temporary tattoo of a dragon on his left shoulder. It curled down his upper arm and across his biceps. He wore a borrowed faded T-shirt. According to the human, it bore a picture of a New Zealand band. Not one he’d heard of, but Dillon assured him The Feelers were a hot band and very popular. The sleeves were ripped out, the jagged edges giving a rough edge to his normally smooth, urbane appearance. He’d actually dressed down for his last wish on purpose so he’d blend and today wore his own blue jeans and boots to complete his outfit. Zane tried out a scowl and fought the grin that tried to take over his expression. Not bad. No one would ever spot him in this outfit. Without his trademark hair, his appearance was radically different and the clothes set a great tone.

  He looked tough.

  He looked like a merc-magick.

  Damn, he looked hot.

  A smirk formed at the thought only to slide away. No time for cockiness.

  With his first night of freedom gone, he only had to avoid capture for another nine. He jogged a few steps to catch up to Dillon, his confidence surging. He could do this.

  They entered the same café they’d eaten in the previous day but walked in the front door this time. It was a classy-looking joint. Flower baskets decorated the exterior and there were several tables for diners who wished to eat in the open air. The umbrellas stood like soldiers on parade, tightly furled rather than spread to shade from the sun. Not a single customer lingered to enjoy the beautiful morning.

  Inside, it was just as quiet apart from a background Christmas carol spilling from concealed speakers.

  Dillon slid into one of the booths along the left-hand side of the café, and Zane started to move into the opposite side when he noticed the merc-magick seated in the far corner near the bar. His heart slammed hard, his first instinct to run. Instead he fought the urge and sat, picked up the menu and calmly perused the contents. There was a slight tremor to his hand before he managed to get himself under control, but that was the only visible sign of his inner panic. From what he’d noticed in his quick scan, the merc-magick hadn’t recognized him. That was good. The bad news was that if he did anything stupid, he’d end up captured in a heartbeat.

  “What are you having? We didn’t get around to having much in the way of breakfast.”

  The idea of food didn’t sit well at the moment but he had to act normal. “Scrambled eggs on wheat toast and black coffee.” Since there appeared no immediate danger, he decided not to let Dillon know of the problem seated across the other side of the café.

  After a glance toward the bar, Dillon stood. “Looks like they’re short-staffed. I’ll order up at the register.”

  Zane watched him walk away, taking a second or two to admire the man’s ass. He sure did great things for a pair of jeans. The merc-magick glanced up from his meal, scanning over both of them. His heart stopped dead but he kept the shit-eating grin on his face before slowly leaning back into the booth and out of the merc-magick’s range of sight. Anxiously, he waited for the court mercenary to come over and whisk him away before Dillon had a chance to blink.

  The legs of a stool screeched when they dragged across the wooden floor. Footsteps sounded, unhurried and heading toward him. Zane tensed, trying to decide the best thing to do. A tuneless whistle started. The fo
otsteps were closer. Did he pop out magically and attract the entire team of mercenaries or did he stay and brazen it out—maybe overpower the merc-magick? Or perhaps he could confuse him? They weren’t known for their brains. The tension rose inside him and still he hesitated. Was it the merc-magick? Or someone else? A sort of sick fascination prompted him to lean forward and peer at destiny.

  It was Dillon.

  Bloody hell. Zane slumped against the wall of the booth, trying to gather his composure.

  “The waitress said they had two of the team off sick,” Dillon said when he slid into the booth opposite.

  Zane breathed in and exhaled before attempting to speak. “Are they suspects?” Heck, his voice sounded normal. How was that possible?

  “No, not really. You okay?”

  “Did you see the man over by the bar?” Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that.

  “I saw a couple of customers but didn’t pay close attention. Why?”

  “He’s a merc-magick, one of Hasim’s recovery team.”

  Dillon reached across the table and picked up his hand, squeezing it hard. “Fuck. Did he see you?”

  “He didn’t recognize me. He glanced at me and didn’t react.”

  “I don’t recognize you,” Dillon muttered, glancing at his bald head with a trace of disgust.

  “My hair will grow back.” He glanced at the bar and saw the mercenary was eating, seemingly relaxed and unaware of his presence. Zane turned back to frown at the human. “I don’t understand why he’s hanging around, why he’s not out hunting me.”

  “As soon as you can, magick it back. Bald doesn’t do it for me.” Dillon winked before removing his hand from Zane’s grasp and placing it out of sight beneath the table. The teasing left him. “Besides I told you it was a bad idea to come into town. Doesn’t it make sense for someone to remain here in case you either come back or haven’t left in the first place? It’s what I would have done.”