Trey rubbed his forehead at a growing headache. “Why? What’s the hurry, exactly?”
Harry didn’t answer right away. He stared for long seconds at his drink. “This is not a thing that is delayed. There is no reason to on my world. I’ve never known a hybrid to go through an extended period of puberty, so I don’t know the effect. I only know that its symptoms will continue to plague Demi and prolonging them may lead to a permanent damage I can only guess at.”
Trey’s physical pain vanished. He sat forward again. “What kind? Is he at risk of real harm?”
“Yes, he is.” This came from Lucien, who had quietly re-entered the room.
Harry stood in courtly fashion to escort his husband back to the sofa. They sat with their bodies touching from shoulder to ankle, a unified front in all respects.
“How so?” Trey didn’t even care that he was barking out questions as if he had a right to know everything.
“I can’t say, precisely,” Harry admitted. “I only know that he’s suffering and we won’t take any chances with him. As much as we would like to keep him our little boy longer, this is out of our control. He must take this step, and we are asking you to gift him with your body. It’s a tremendous request. We understand that.”
Trey waved that concern away. “No, it’s not. I was prepared to sacrifice my life for him. This, whatever it ends up being, is nothing.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What do you need me to do?”
“Allow Demi to…” Harry didn’t get a chance to come up with the right words.
Lucien jumped in. “Penetrate you.”
Trey’s hole clenched at the stark words. He hadn’t bottomed since his late teens when he’d been experimenting with what it meant to him to be gay. Given his natural dominant inclination, he’d learned early that he was a top all the way. But this was Demi’s health and possibly life at stake.
“Okay, fine. Where and when?” He wasn’t one to dither over things. Besides, in all honesty, being ‘forced’ into making love to Demi was what he wanted anyway.
Harry and Lucien traded looks. Apparently, they hadn’t expected him to be sold on the idea so easily. That only meant they hadn’t been paying attention as much as they thought they had. Once Demi had literally sunk his teeth into him, he’d claimed Trey in a way that was undeniable and irresistible.
“Well,” Harry finally said, “there is a ceremony of sorts. I’ll need to speak with Alex about how we might recreate it with a human twist.” He licked his lower lip. “It might not matter to Demi, but it will to me. In this, I want to be selfish.”
Trey frowned, a frisson of concern creeping in despite his determination. “You don’t mean like a wedding, do you? Demi is definitely too young to be making that kind of decision right now, especially if his hormones are clouding his judgment.”
“No.” Lucien was quick to reassure him. “It’s purely about sex, and we agree with you on the marriage part.” He lowered his gaze demurely. “Although having once been Demi’s age and in love, I disagree with you and my husband as to whether Demi knows his own mind on this.”
He raised his eyes again to stare directly at Trey. “Demi loves you, has since the first moment he saw you, just like I fell instantly in love with Harry. I knew that despite how men had exploited and abused me my whole life, that he was different. I wanted to be with him forever, and I haven’t had a moment of regret.”
“My love,” Harry said softly before lifting one of Lucien’s hands and kissing the inside of the wrist.
It was an act of aching tenderness that made Trey long for a connection just like it—with Demi. No, he’s too young. And Demi was a twenty-first-century young man with a vast array of choices in life waiting for him. He didn’t need to be tied down to a cop careening into middle age. Sex was one thing. A permanent commitment was something out of the question.
He fisted his hands. “I’ll do whatever you want to make this experience special for Demi, so long as it’s understood that he’s free to make whatever decisions he wants before, during and after.”
“Agreed,” the boy’s fathers said in unison.
“Okay then, let’s roll.” Even as he gave the green light, he wondered what exactly he was getting himself into.
Probably something that would break his heart in the end.
* * * *
“Thanks for helping me, guys. I appreciate it.” Damien, Emil’s sous chef, steered Emil’s SUV through the narrow streets of Boston, avoiding the few joggers who seemed to think that because it was early Sunday morning, it meant crossing streets without watching for traffic.
“Sure,” Jase replied. “I’ve been meaning to get more involved with the food bank. I want to give back to the community, and all this uneaten food would go to waste if we didn’t donate it.”
From where he sat in the back seat, Demi chimed in. “And, I’m just glad to get out, no matter where I’m going.”
He almost added more about how happy he was about his lockdown period being over. But then he remembered that Damien wasn’t privy to his family’s true nature or knew anything about the war with Dracul. Jase, who sat directly in front of him, stiffened a moment before relaxing again when Demi said nothing more.
Damien flashed his gaze at him through the rearview mirror. “You’re ‘rents are super protective of you, huh?”
It took Demi a second to understand the question. He smiled. “Yeah, my two dads think I’m made out of glass and totally stupid into the bargain. I’m lucky they figure you and Jase make for good chaperones.”
Damien chuckled and said nothing more about it. Demi was glad and also not surprised. While he barely knew the sous chef, he found the guy to be pretty likeable and totally devoted to Emil. The fact that he was also dedicated to helping a soup kitchen targeting mostly homeless teens was also a point in his favor. Demi knew that the boy had been living on the streets for a while himself before Emil had given him a job. Emil was like that—always taking in strays and helping out humans. Demi liked that about him and figured tagging along this morning would be the next step in his own education for becoming a doctor.
“This should only take about an hour.” Damien turned a corner and pulled into an alley between a small stone church and another building. “Father Ted usually has a couple of boys with him to help unload. I like to get the warming trays set up for him, too. After that, more volunteers come in to serve. I promise you’ll be home and in bed soon. I know how tired you both must be after staying up all night.”
Jase let out a loud yawn. “I can’t deny sleeping is high on my list of things to do right now.”
“I’m fine,” Demi countered.
It was the truth. He didn’t need the amount of sleep most humans did, and he preferred doing it during the day. Besides, he was so excited about what his fathers had told him a few hours before, he still was too wired to sleep.
Trey is going to make me his.
The news had been shocking. He could almost believe it was merely some fever dream he’d had. But he wasn’t prone to flights of fancy—only dramatic, desperate hope. He’d wanted Trey Duncan since the first time he’d seen the man. What had started as a childish infatuation had matured into a relentless need, one that seemed impossible to obtain. And yet, his fathers had sat him down after Papa had come to fetch him from the dressing room and they’d told him the plan.
Trey was going to fuck him. That was the bottom line, no pun intended, although he giggled inwardly every time he thought it. The sexy cop was going to pop Demi’s cherry, and hearing it had caused his dick to harden right in front of his parents. He had been so overwhelmed with joy that he hadn’t even cared if they could see his arousal. His desire for the man was officially sanctioned by the powers-that-be. He didn’t have to hide a thing now.
Of course, Papa had stressed how this was not some prurient event. There was going to be a formal ceremony and everything, where they gave him into Trey’s care with all the solemnity their alien cultur
e demanded. It wasn’t about pleasure. It was a matter of health. Demi needed to be initiated into sexual activity the way he would have been on Papa’s home world. It would alleviate the physical discomfort he’d been experiencing for months. He wasn’t about to treat this whole thing like some wild sex ride. They were making do with what they had, taking into account Demi’s wants, too, naturally. And wasn’t it kind of Sergeant Duncan to willingly help the same as he’d done by giving Demi his vein back in Wales?
Blah, blah, blah.
Demi had nodded in agreement with every lecturing word, all the while bouncing with glee on the inside. When they’d finally let him go, he’d raced to his shower and jerked off for about the millionth time. On this occasion, unlike all the others, his fantasy was a vision of what was to actually come. More than anything else, Trey’s agreement to do this was proof that despite his insistence to the contrary, the man wanted Demi, maybe as much as Demi wanted him. It didn’t matter. Demi’s love would be enough to carry them both. He had a lifetime to make Trey happy.
Oddly, knowing what was to happen soon had already made him feel better. As he waited for Damien to park the SUV at the end of the alley, he felt calmer and more at ease with his body than he had in a long time. He looked forward to unpacking the food and helping to set up. The mundane activity, coupled with the good feeling of helping others, wouldn’t have been something he would have been up for less than a year ago. Things had changed.
He had changed.
He hopped out of the vehicle feeling more lighthearted than he could ever remember and followed Damien and Jase around to the back. It was packed with all the uneaten food from the celebratory reopening of the club, plus a few staples to stock the soup kitchen. Emil was a soft touch, always had been since Demi had known him. Helping humans, especially by feeding them, had been the man’s greatest passion before Jase had come into his life. Besides, the family had more money than God—or so said Papa. They could all afford to be charitable.
Damien hefted out a large open crate and handed it over to Demi’s waiting arms. Although the sous chef didn’t know about his hybrid nature, he had learned that he was stronger than he looked. Damien pulled out another of the same size and carried it over to the door in front of the SUV. Jase followed with a couple of lighter-weight bags, and Demi brought up the rear. He glanced around, not having been there before. It was a typical Boston alley, except it was fairly clean. Damien had said the boys whom the priest ministered to were always lending a hand to keep the church and its surrounding areas in good shape.
Given the early hour, there was no one around and the city sounds were muted. Demi supposed that most of the people the charity catered to had spent most of the night out, partying or panhandling. This wasn’t somewhere for families or a shelter for overnight stays. Those that would come looking for breakfast were still somewhere else, sleeping the night off.
Bracing the crate against the wall and on top of his knee, Damien fiddled with the doorknob. He pushed the door open and gestured for Jase and Demi to go ahead. The inside was dark and cool, musty smelling the way old buildings often were. He stepped to one side to let Damien pass and show the way. Jase did the same thing. As they followed the chef down the corridor, Demi became vaguely aware of another scent. By the time he realized what it was, they’d already entered a stark basement room.
His feet tripped along with his heartbeat. “Wait,” he called out, but it was too late.
Damien uttered a short cry and dropped his crate. Demi emptied his own arms just as quickly and pushed past Jase to grab Damien’s arm. He didn’t even consider how fast he’d moved. Damien was too busy gaping at the horror in the far corner and making a beeline for it. Damien wrapped his fingers around the boy’s biceps and tugged him to a halt.
“Don’t. He’s dead and we can’t contaminate the crime scene.” He felt stupid saying the words, like some kind of terrible TV-show character.
There was no denying not only that the priest was dead, but that he’d been murdered. There was no sound of a beating heart or blood rushing through veins. He could tell from across the room that was the case, his hearing being almost as keen as his papa’s. The humans wouldn’t be able to tell, however. That, plus shock and overwhelming emotion, explained why Damien fought his hold.
“Father Ted!” Damien screamed and struggled to get free. “Let me go to him.”
Jase came to join them, taking Damien’s other arm and flashing a wide-eyed look at Demi. “Damien, stop. Please. Demi’s right. There’s nothing to do except call the police.”
“Trey.” Demi said the name with a breathless voice. Letting go the second Damien’s movements slowed and pulling out his phone, he pressed the one number still on his favorites app and listened to it ring with growing concern.
“Demi?” Trey’s tone was both sleepy and sharp. “Is something wrong?”
The sound of the man’s voice was instantly calming. “Yes,” he replied in a weaker voice than he’d intended.
“What?” Now Trey spoke with that sure and commanding tone that Demi loved.
It calmed him even more. “I’m at the soup kitchen that Damien brings food to and, um, the priest who runs it? He’s dead. Killed.”
“How do you know that?” There was rustling, and Demi could picture Trey getting out of bed and wrestling with his clothing.
Demi shifted his gaze over toward the body. “There’s blood everywhere.”
The priest was sprawled on his back, arms spread wide. His throat was slashed from ear-to-ear. A chair was turned over nearby and a pot of some kind of stew had spilled by the man’s feet.
“Okay. Don’t go near the body.”
“I won’t. We won’t. I stopped Damien and he’s sitting on the floor with Jase a few feet away from the door.” He had to look away from the priest and focused on the other two boys. While blood was a central part of Demi’s life now, seeing it spilled through a violent act made him queasy. He couldn’t stand looking at it anymore.
“Good, that’s good. Give me the address.”
The minor praise made him feel better. He gave Trey the information and focused on the sound of the man getting ready. The simple rhythm of his breathing was somehow soothing. Trey kept him on the line, too, as he left his house and got into his car. He asked Demi for details about when they’d arrived and what exactly there were doing. Was anyone else there? Those mundane questions aided in Demi regaining his sense of peace.
“Okay, put me on hold and call nine one one. Let them know that a homicide detective is on his way. I’m going to do the same with you and call Karl in. You with me on that, babe?”
Demi was so thrilled at the casual endearment, he almost didn’t respond. “Yes, got it. Back in a sec.” He did as Trey said, glad to have a task, and stilled, feeling centered now that Trey was literally on the case.
He walked back down the hall and out to the alley to meet everyone and lead them to the right place. Trey came back on the line and kept up a steady, casual banter while Demi waited for him. Even though there was no one about, he didn’t feel alone with Trey on the phone. By the time the emergency vehicles arrived, Trey was also pulling up. The sight of him getting out of his car gave Demi a shiver of pleasure. When Trey fixed his gaze on him, Demi couldn’t resist running to his side. They hung up a moment before Demi launched himself at him.
Trey absorbed the blow with the same rock-solid control that he’d done in Wales. And as he’d done then, he briefly hugged Demi to him before setting him aside.
“Are you all right?” The man pierced Demi with concerned eyes.
Demi nodded. “I’m fine. Really. Whatever happened, it was over before we got here.”
Trey nodded once. “Good. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to be professional here. I can’t treat you like I…” His lips formed a thin line.
“Have affection for me?” Demi offered with a coy and hopeful smile. He didn’t know what kind of label Trey wanted to put on their relationship before t
he deflowering ceremony.
“Right. That.”
“I understand.” He was determined to show how much he’d matured. He no longer wanted to act the brat. And his future was heading exactly where he wanted it—right into Trey’s arms and life. Demi needed to adjust to the idea of being with a cop and supporting his man’s career.
“What do you want me and the others to do?”
Trey hitched up his pants as he eyed the EMTs entering the building. “Go into the church proper, if you can. We’ll need a clear area to handle the crime scene, and we’ll come interview each of you when we have time.”
Demi nodded. “Okay, we’ll do that. I’m sure Damien knows the layout of the building and will find a spot for us to wait.”
“He knew the victim, right?”
Demi nodded again. “Father Ted, yes. He does outreach work with LBGTQ homeless kids, including this soup kitchen. I think he was a big influence on Damien before Emil gave him a break.”
“Got it.” He offered a quick smile that sent a little zing racing through him. He could picture getting that smile every day. “Off then, you.”
“Right.” Demi had a strong urge to hug the man again or blow him a kiss. He didn’t. Maturity was the watchword of the day and he was determined to abide by it. He also tried not to feel happy about how some poor human’s death had given him this unexpected chance to see his man.
It was impossible not to feel that way, so he didn’t try. Instead, he did as he’d been told, returning to the back door of the church with the sensation of Trey’s gaze on him.
Chapter Three
Trey watched Demi walk away, transfixed more then he should have been on the way the boy’s hips swayed and the pretty shine of his black hair against the early sunlight. Jesus, how sick was he that seeing the boy made him happy, even as he was on his way to view a murdered priest? He blamed it on the residual of his dreams. When Demi had called him, he’d been hard and aching. Since leaving Lux, his discussions with Harry and Lucien had caused his mind to reel more and more with the implications of what he’d agreed to.
Mating Dance Page 4