Mating Dance

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Mating Dance Page 22

by Samantha Cayto


  “A good two years. My, uh, family will still see you as too young, but I figure it will help.” He grunted when Demi scraped his teeth down the ridges on Trey’s six pack.

  “I understand,” Demi assured him, because he could wait that long and also figured if he could get Trey down from ten to two, the two was negotiable as well.

  “Good.” Trey grunted again and his torso lifted up enough to make Demi’s head bounce. He followed that thin trail of dark hair down to the man’s spent cock. “I’m not going to be ready for a while for another round. Sorry. Perhaps we should eat.”

  “Okay.”

  Demi didn’t pull away, however. Instead, he kept going, running his tongue around the sticky head. He tasted what must be himself and didn’t care. He placed more open-mouthed kisses down the shaft. He sucked on Trey’s big balls while tracing his hole with one finger.

  “Stick it in,” Trey commanded and lifted his ass a little, as if there were any doubt of what he meant.

  Demi was careful to wet his finger first before sliding it into a tight heat that gobbled him up. He kept playing with the dick, fucking Trey’s hole, scratching at his prostate until the cock rallied to a nice stiffness. Pulling out and letting go, he straddled Trey’s wide pelvis and sat on his dick. He didn’t even try to hide the breathy moan as he filled himself with his lover’s cock.

  “What were you saying about eating dinner?” He smirked down at his man.

  Trey growled. “Never mind. Get that pretty ass moving.”

  Demi happily complied, using his extraterrestrial speed to rip another orgasm out of Trey. He flung out his hands and came in great spurts over Trey’s stomach from the fucking alone. He felt like he did when he was dancing on the pole, free and happy, and putting on a show, only now it was for an audience of one. It would be that way for the rest of their lives together.

  He sprawled down with a laugh. “Oh God, Trey, I love you so much.”

  Trey held him tightly before tugging up his head for a slow, yet passionate kiss. “I love you, too, Demi,” he said when it ended. “It scares me silly how much.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I may be half alien, but my love and devotion is as human as yours.”

  “I don’t doubt you, baby. It’s me I worry about.” Trey closed his eyes briefly. “And I want as much time with you as possible. If your father thinks my drinking your blood will give me more, then I’m willing to try it.”

  “You don’t have to for me.”

  “I have to for myself, baby.” He eased Demi off, breaking the connection of his deflated cock with Demi’s ass. “Hold on a minute.”

  He scooted off the bed and went over to his dresser. Demi stretched wide while he lay there watching. Trey returned with a little box in his hand. Demi’s heart tripped when he recognized that it was for a ring.

  Trey knelt beside him and opened it up. Inside was an oval swirled with purple, turquoise and gold and set in a silver-colored metal. Demi rocketed to a sitting position.

  “This is heather set in white gold. Nothing expensive, but I’d be pleased if you would wear it.”

  “Oh, Trey!” He placed his right hand over his heart while extending his left.

  Before he slipped it onto Demi’s ring finger, Trey said, “Now, understand this is a sort of friendship ring. I’m a little too old for this kind of thing, but you’re not, at least by my estimation.” He slipped it on. “It’s a promise from me to you that in two years’ time, if you haven’t changed your mind, I’m going to be replacing this with an engagement ring.”

  He searched Demi’s face. “Okay?”

  In way of an answer, Demi shrieked and pulled him down. “I love it!” He held up his hand above Trey’s shoulder and admired how it looked on him. “And I will not be changing my mind. I will be changing my name, though.”

  He pushed Trey onto his back. “Demetrius Duncan. I love the alliteration. Can we get monogrammed towels?”

  With a laugh, Trey pulled him in for a kiss. “Baby steps, Demi. School first, then dating—and you know the rest.”

  “Right.” He nodded firmly. “Whatever you say.”

  “Good, because that includes bowing out of the family fight. No more haring off to confront what’s left of Dracul’s rebellion. Seeing you in that alley after hearing a gunshot nearly stopped my heart. None of that. Understand?”

  Demi gave him an adoring smile, putting all his emotions into that one look. Then, he dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir.” Because he didn’t want to lie to his almost-fiancé. Love the man as he did, he really had no intention of standing on the side while Trey risked his life.

  But there was no reason to even think about that now. Cadoc was dead, and if the others were smart, they’d hide away forever.

  “Let’s go eat,” he said, bouncing off the bed and heading for the door.

  “Demi, we’re naked.”

  “I know. Isn’t it great?” He raced away, certain his man would chase after him.

  And he did.

  Epilogue

  “My dear, what is going on?”

  Lucien turned at the sound of his husband’s voice and bowed. He was wearing traditional Thai clothing in a Raj style, although he’d opted for a red jacket to honor Harry’s culture, along with black pants, but no socks or shoes. He preferred to be barefooted. It was also reminiscent of their first meeting.

  He twirled in a single circle on the dance floor. “Do I please you, husband?”

  “Always,” Harry replied, glancing around the room as he approached.

  “There are no members or boys about. Only the two of us are out here and I’d like to dance, if you please.” He nodded at Kitty, who put on his chosen song, Why by Shawn Mendes.

  Harry gave him that smile that assured Lucien he was treasured. He opened his arms, letting Lucien into his familiar embrace.

  He followed his husband’s lead, because that had always been their way. Lucien didn’t want it differently. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on the man who wasn’t human, he’d known that his destiny was to belong to him. Unlike any other man who’d taken Lucien’s body without his consent to his constant repulsion, Harry had only ever given him the freedom to choose to be his.

  “What is all of this about, my dear? We rarely dance and you hate being in the club.”

  Lucien nodded in agreement. “That’s true. I don’t like it down here, but that’s only because of its patrons. The space itself is lovely. And after all we’ve been through lately, I wanted to give us a little time to ourselves. I’m selfish that way.”

  “You are anything but that. You have always put others before yourself.”

  With a shrug, Lucien rested his head on Harry’s chest. “Perhaps I simply find myself with more time on my hands than I know what to do with now that Demi is learning outside of home and Dafydd is caring for Idris. And, I miss being with only you.”

  Harry gathered him closer, moving him around the floor in time to the music. “We are classic empty-nesters. You are right. We should take some time for each other. We could go on a trip, if you would like.”

  “Anything, so long as I’m with you.”

  He gave them a minute more, enjoying the song and the slow turn around and around. “You know that I love you, do you not, husband?”

  Harry held them in place and leaned back to stare at him. “What makes you ask that now, after so long?”

  Lucien frowned at finding the right words. “I think perhaps it comes from seeing Dafydd, knowing how he was abused, and also watching Trey struggle with his feelings for Demi, believing him to be too young. I worry, have for all our time together, that you think I gave myself to you out of obligation, not desire.”

  Harry turned his head away, not looking him in the eye as he answered. “It has been a concern of mine.” He did gaze down at him now. “After all that you’d been through, how could I ever be sure you truly wanted me? I would cut out my own heart rather than force you into my bed.”

&n
bsp; “Hush.” Lucien placed his palm against Harry’s cheek. “That is exactly what I feared. But you needn’t worry over it. I gave myself to you because I fell in love with you.”

  “Is it love or gratitude, my dear?”

  Lucien had to stand on his toes to reach Harry’s mouth. “Can’t it be both? It started out as one and slipped into the other by the time you claimed me. I schemed for years to make it so. You were very stubborn about it.”

  Harry turned his head to place a kiss on Lucien’s palm. “I had to be sure, and even then, I wasn’t fully. I am weak where you are concerned. As much as you submit to me, you have the power to kill me with a single word—no.”

  “I will never say it,” he rushed to reassure his husband. “I love you, Harry. You must never think otherwise. Never doubt how utterly perfect we are for each other. That is what would cause me to die.”

  Harry’s grip tightened in that show of raw power that should have frightened him, yet only served to make him feel cherished and safe. “That won’t happen for a long time to come.”

  “Good, that will leave us plenty of time for sex.”

  Harry’s eyes widened. “Lucien, my dear, how uncharacteristically naughty of you.”

  “Some of Demi must have rubbed off on me. What are you going to do about it?”

  Without saying another word, Harry swooped Lucien up into his arms, as he’d done over a hundred years ago, and carried him away to a place of promise and hope.

  Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!

  Alien Slave Masters: The Captive Pet

  Samantha Cayto

  Excerpt

  “How much is the buy-in?” Rone kept his face neutral, cool and disinterested, as if the answer made no difference to him. He’d been watching his quarry fleece idiots from their credits all evening by cheating at quaz.

  The privateer, a male going by the name of Arpell, took his time to respond. Arrogance radiated off him like a stench. While most others in the disreputable male-only relaxation center set in the middle of a far-flung minor space station were likely impressed by the gambler’s name, Rone wasn’t. He doubted the male truly came from the caste his name implied. Out here, no one really looked too closely at someone’s pedigree. You could be anyone you wanted to be, pretend as much as you liked. Rone counted on that ability.

  “Five hundred credits,” the guy finally barked out. He trained his beady eyes on Rone.

  Mother, the male disgusted him and not only because of the cheating and the dubious work the male did. He was also layered in fat, an almost unheard of condition among males of their species and a testament to how much time the gambler spent sitting in his dirty clothes in the rank corner of the place. On a female, extra weight would have been lush and alluring. On a male, it spoke of slovenliness. If Rone weren’t so sure of the intel he’d gleaned through contacts around the Empire, he would never have suspected this guy was part of a sophisticated arms smuggling operation.

  It didn’t matter what the cost of playing was. Rone had credits to spare, courtesy of the government. He waved his wrist unit over the credit register on the wall and sat down on the less than clean pillow across from his opponent. Like the other male, Rone had a role to play in front of everyone else. He’d cultivated his own persona of a privateer out only for himself, no one to fuck around with. As he sat, the leash attached to his belt tugged tight, forcing Preen to follow and sit on its haunches next to Rone.

  Rone hated treating his companion with such blatant disregard, but that was also part of the game he played. Preen understood. It hadn’t taken long for Rone and the former pet of his mating sister to form an alliance born of loneliness and, on Rone’s part, grief. They communicated through mostly hand signals that, again, they’d developed themselves, although Preen understood much of what Rone spoke. The noises that Preen made didn’t translate into Travian at all, yet, after a while, the meaning of each sound had also become clear to Rone. Their hand signals allowed more sophisticated communication, however, with the added advantage that no one else understood their meaning.

  Before the game began, Rone glanced to the far side of Arpell. Sitting in a tight ball was the male’s own pet. Rone recognized the species immediately—a human, a male one at that. Had to be. Even in this backwater place, no one would allow a female pet to be kept openly. With its face hidden within its arms, Rone couldn’t see the creature much at all. A curtain of long hair the color of bright starlight covered its head and fell over the arms wrapped tightly around small knees. Rone knew from his experience with his former house brother’s pet that humans didn’t tolerate Travian temperatures very well. Poor beast. Life with Arpell must be a misery, not that Rone had time to dwell on any sympathy he might feel for the human. He had a job to do.

  Grabbing up the quaz pieces strewn before him, he nodded to Arpell. “First move to the dealer.”

  The male regarded him with barely bridled glee, expecting Rone to be the next easy victim. For a time, Rone allowed himself to be just that, losing a few games and lots of credits. He pretended not to see the sleight of hand, moving pieces out of turn and substituting them with better ones. The effort, while impressive, was not hidden from his keen vision. The other players had either been stupid or chemically compromised—or likely both.

  He shook his head over his latest loss and swiped in more credits, as if the large amount he’d already wasted didn’t concern him in the least. It got the attention of others in the place, one of the points to the game he played. Whoever supplied arms to the rebellion that still percolated within the Empire needed to notice him.

  “You are a worthier opponent than I typically encounter,” Arpell said, leaning back. His meaty hand pawed at his pet’s head. A barely visible tremor ran through the boy’s body.

  Rone hardened his heart to the sight and concentrated on his mission. “I’m new to this station.” He glanced around dismissively. “So far, this game is the most interesting thing I’ve encountered here.”

  Arpell huffed out a laugh and made the next play. As with before, Rone let himself be cheated time and again. Then, having sufficiently lulled his quarry, he made his move. Arpell might be very good at cheating, but Rone was better. The look of surprise on his opponent’s face when Rone outmaneuvered him gave Rone the most satisfaction he’d felt in a very long time—since his mate had died, except he wouldn’t think of her or of the child she’d lost, along with her life. He didn’t allow any emotion to show in his expression. He simply continued his campaign of winning.

  Arpell knew Rone had cheated. He could see it in Arpell’s eyes, yet what could he do? If he called Rone out on it, he’d open himself up to the same accusation. With so many others avidly watching their game, a quiet confrontation would be impossible. Rone didn’t want one, anyway. What he wanted was a pissed-off Arpell, in the hopes that he could leverage that into information when Arpell made a move against Rone. He would, too. All of Rone’s intel on the guy said that he was a smuggler, privateer, outright thief and a killer when crossed. Rone certainly hoped so. Physical fights had become a handy outlet for his anger and grief.

  The crowd around them grew larger the more Rone won. He made sure to lose a few, as well, so that his winning streak wasn’t completely unbelievable. Eventually, though, he’d gained all that he’d lost and so much more. Arpell sneered down at the game pieces when Rone placed the winning one yet again. The male grasped the strands of his pet’s hair once more, the only sign of his distress. A small sound reached Rone’s ears, a whimper perhaps, although it was so faint that he almost thought he’d imagined it. Almost. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, however.

  Picking up his pieces, he raised an eyebrow at Arpell. “Another round?”

  Arpell licked his lips. “Your luck has certainly changed.”

  Rone leaned back on one hand while he rolled the pieces in the other. “It has. I seem to have stolen yours from you.” The threat hung between them. If Arpell entertaine
d the idea of calling Rone a cheat, he’d be on the receiving end of the same accusation. “If you wish to end the game…” He moved, as if intending to stand.

  “No,” Arpell barked out. “I feel my luck will return. It’s only that you have temporarily cleaned me out of credits.”

  Rone was willing to bet he’d taken just about all of them. “Then we can’t continue,” he replied, lacing his tone with a modicum of regret for the benefit of the onlookers. Once more, he began to rise.

  “Wait. I have something I can bid.” When Rone merely stared back at him, Arpell shifted his gaze briefly to his pet. As he did so, he also tugged the boy’s head up by its hair.

  A delicate face came into view, young and so beautiful that for a moment Rone believed he’d been wrong about Arpell keeping a female pet. But no, this was a boy with skin as pale as any Travian. When it… No, when he raised downcast eyes for just a moment, Rone caught a glimpse of ice blue ringed with white—and fear, before it was quickly banked and the gaze dropped again. Arpell’s brutal grip kept the human’s face up, though, on display. There were murmurs in the crowd and some lewd remarks.

  “I don’t understand,” Rone said slowly. “Are you intending to offer your pet as a wager? If so, I’m not interested. I already have a pet.” He gestured toward Preen, who still sat quietly by his side. The little alien had endless patience.

  Arpell’s expression turned nasty. “Ah, but mine is better. You can fuck it, and it knows how to suck cock. I’ve trained it very well, if I say so myself.”

  Laughter broke out and more rude observations were made. Rone ignored it all, as he did Preen’s hiss. Rone knew that sound, and it meant his companion was pissed off. Small as it was, Preen could be dangerous when provoked. Rone entreated it to silence with a subtle gesture. He needed to consider this turn of events. His simple plan to provoke Arpell and gain notoriety hinged on beating him soundly and taking as many of his credits as possible. If Rone didn’t continue to play, another male would take his place. He could already see the speculation in some of those around them. The idea of owning such an exotic and enticing pet would prove too tempting. No one would win the boy, of course. Arpell would see to that. He’d rack up more winnings, and all of Rone’s efforts would have been for naught.

 

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