“Do you like your life in New York?”
Matthew’s hushed question took him by surprise. He hadn’t been a great talker during their first night together. Swallowing against the tightness of his throat, Calvin nodded, unable to add more.
For a moment, Matthew’s lashes ducked. Whatever he was thinking was lost to Calvin, and he almost stopped his shallow strokes in order to pursue the line of questioning. But then Matthew closed the distance between their mouths, and Calvin couldn’t stop for anything, not for queries from sad-eyed lovers, not for demons that might lurk outside his door, not for other needs he knew better than to voice.
Strokes became longer, deeper, more of Matthew’s length exposed to the warm hotel air every time.
Matthew shifted beneath him, presumably to alter the angle of their kisses, but the next time Calvin took him, there was a difference in his trajectory, the slightest fraction of an angle that changed his entry. The tip of his cock brushed along Calvin’s prostate, but then it was gone again. It left behind an electric trail that went straight to his balls.
The second time, his cock jerked. Hair scraped across the sensitive tip, which only made Calvin groan aloud.
The third time, he tightened around Matthew’s length. Matthew reacted as if he’d been shocked, driving into Calvin’s channel with more force than he’d thus far exhibited. His teeth caught at Calvin’s lower lip, and his kisses grew ferocious.
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
No going back now. For either of them.
Hips snapped. His, Matthew’s, two bodies driving toward each other, preparing for the collision that would render them boneless. Matthew never shifted his angle, and each bruising stroke pushed harder against Calvin’s prostate, a barrage that had his orgasm boiling long before Matthew reached between their bodies. All he could do was hold on, hold in, push harder, pull faster, keep the connection between them constant until he felt the unmistakable tightening of his balls.
Calvin came with a shout that made his skin sizzle. He erupted, heavy ropes of come spattering their stomachs, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t, not with the surge in and out of his aching hole still pulsing with Matthew’s need. He clamped around the thick length, coaxing the orgasm from his lover, and when he finally felt Matthew stiffen, Calvin sat up, taking him inside more deeply than he had yet.
Matthew bucked away from the bed. His head slammed into the pillow as the tendons stood out on his neck. Inside his ass, Calvin felt the throbbing length jerk over and over again. If Matthew hadn’t worn the condom, he would have filled Calvin up.
For a split second, Calvin wished he could experience that.
Matthew tugged at his arms, knocking him off-balance as the last of the shudders finished torturing his body. Their mouths fused, almost as desperate as before. Even with the lethargy stealing in, Calvin knew he could go at it again. And again. He would take everything he could from this man and ferret it away for savoring later.
When he attempted to roll away in order to clean up, Matthew tightened his arms around him, forcing him to stay.
“Not yet.” It wasn’t quite a plea.
Calvin settled back down. He laid there with his cheek on Matthew’s shoulder, listening to their hearts quiet down. Reason slowly returned, along with the reminder that he’d probably just felt Matthew inside him for the very last time, and the desire to do anything but stay there vanished.
“I haven’t been able to figure out why the demon was so focused on you.” Matthew drew lazy circles along his back, soothing and warm. “I thought you said you weren’t mourning your father like that.”
“I’m not. He caught me thinking of you.”
His hands paused. “And that made you sad?”
“No, the thought of not getting to see you again made me sad.” Calvin sighed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the revulsion from remembering the demon’s claw on his thigh. “I was sketching you, and he started asking all these questions, trying to get me to talk about it. And it just made it worse.”
“Yeah. That’s what they do.”
They lapsed into silence, but without the distraction of Matthew’s voice, Calvin’s thoughts grew too loud to ignore. He lifted his head and propped his chin on his hand, in order to look down at him.
“Why did you ask about New York?”
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
Matthew didn’t open his eyes. “I was hoping you hated it there.”
“Why?”
“So if I asked, you’d stay here with me.”
Surprise shocked him into silence. All the questions he’d had exploded a thousand times over.
Matthew rolled to his side, slipping out of Calvin’s ass as they shifted positions. He kept his arms loosely around him, though, and when his eyes opened, the haunting was back.
“I’ve never had a relationship before,” he said softly. “I’ve never sought one out. I chose to enter the priesthood because I wanted to serve God, and when He chose a different path for me, it felt like even more reason to live a life alone.”
“Because people would think you’re crazy.”
“Or worse.”
“I don’t.”
“You did, a little.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s to be expected. I know that.”
“But I know you’re not. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Matthew propped his head up on his hand, freeing his other in order to draw his fingertips over Calvin’s brow. “You’re the first. I thought…it felt like you might be the first in other ways too.”
“You could always move to New York. Nothing’s tying you here, right?”
He sighed. “No, but think about it. Look at how many demons I see here, or even in Watson Park. How bad do you think it’s going to be there? All those bodies locked on that island. No clue about what walks among them.”
“But you’d be there too. You could help clear them out.”
“Maybe. For a little while. Until seeing the demons all the time finally drove me crazy for real.”
Matthew said it with such finality, Calvin knew it was true. He hid away now, only emerging when the guilt became too much to bear, guilt that would destroy a soul as true as his if it was allowed to fester.
Calvin realized he knew then why Matthew had been chosen to have this particular gift. He knew a lot of people would turn their backs on what they saw.
Matthew would never be able to do that. He was a warrior, in every sense of the word.
And Calvin didn’t want to leave him behind to walk among them by himself.
“So I come back here,” he said. “Chicago’s a big city, and I can do my art anywhere.”
Matthew’s nostrils flared. Hope burned in his dark eyes. “You would do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
That was all he managed to get out before Matthew pulled him close again, sealing their mouths together.
He didn’t get a chance to say he’d found enough inspiration in Matthew alone to keep him busy for years, or that it was time to bury his anger along with the rest of his past, or even how relieved he was Matthew even wanted him around.
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
But he would.
Later.
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
About the Author
Vivien Dean has had a lifetime love affair with stories. A multi-published author, her books have been EPPIE finalists,
Romantic Times
Reviewer’s Choice Nominees, and reader favorites. After spending her twenties and early thirties traveling, she has finally settled down and currently resides in northern California with her British husband and two children.
To learn more about Vivien, please visit
www.viviendean.com, or send her an email at
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
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Walk Among Us
WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
One night, no defenses…
No Fear in Love
© 2008 Jamie Craig
A
Calling of Souls
story.
Weston Scott is happy with his simple, quiet life in a small English village. Yet he is haunted by deeply closeted yearnings, a secret he has shared with only one person. His best friend, Mark. As a constant reminder to guard his own heart, Weston wears an emerald ring on his hand.
Mark Goudy has a secret of his own, one that drove him to live far away in London rather than betray his best friend’s trust: He’s always been in love with Weston. Now he’s back, but not for a friendly visit.
Mark’s through denying his emotions.
And if he can manage to slip that ring off Weston’s finger for one night, he’s sure things will change. For both of them.
Warning: This title contains explicit M/M content and tender seduction that strips away all defenses.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
No Fear in Love:
“I think…we should try for the bed again.”
Mark let him go, dragging his hot palms over the twitching muscles of Weston’s stomach as he slowly straightened. His irises had been devoured in black, and his breath quickened enough to be hot and heavy against Weston’s neck. But it was the hunger that gleamed in the depths, the need that kept him pinned to the wall, that left him speechless.
“I get in that bed, and there won’t be any kicking me out tonight,” Mark warned. “But I promise you, Wes.
It’ll be the best bloody night of your life.”
Weston appreciated that Mark was still giving him the chance to end this before it went any further. His orgasm hadn’t dampened his desire. If anything, it was sharper now, more demanding. He wasn’t perfect.
He was mere flesh and blood, prone to mistakes. His catalogue of sins flashed through his mind, great and small. He had done many things he hadn’t been proud of. He had lied to his parents, he had taken the Lord’s name in vain, and some days he was crippled with envy over a life he could never have. He had been spiteful and petty. He had been thoughtless. He knew about mistakes. This didn’t
feel
like a mistake.
He didn’t know what it felt like, exactly, but it didn’t feel
wrong
. Not anymore.
This time he instigated the kiss, drawing Mark closer even as he shuffled to the bed.
Mark wrapped his arms around Weston’s back the second before they toppled onto the mattress, legs tangled for the few moments it took Wes to kick off his pants. Mark’s hands traced over the muscles, WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
down his spine until they cupped Weston’s ass, grinding their groins together with a desperation that had been missing in their earlier groping. Not once did their mouths part. Each time Wes thought he would need to gasp for air, Mark would tilt his lips at a slightly different angle, affording just the faintest of cracks for breath to rush into his lungs. It left no doubts as to what he wanted. It only cemented what Wes did.
Weston tore at Mark’s shirt, desperate to push it out of his way. Mark’s muscles twitched as soon as Wes touched his bare skin, and a thrill raced from his fingertips to the base of his spine. He had seen Mark in various states of undress over the years. He had never been a shy or modest person. Weston had always forced himself to be satisfied with casual, friendly gestures—a tap on the back, a handshake, a steadying arm around his narrow shoulders. He had been tempted to prolong the contact a few times. Now he could touch as much as he wanted. Weston rolled without breaking the kiss until Mark was settled on top of him, and he could free him of his clothes without hindrance.
The first touch of his trembling fingers on Mark’s cock made both of them jump.
“You see what you do to me?” Mark propped himself up on his knuckles, powerful biceps taut, and rocked his hips back and forth so that he left a slick trail of pre-come along Weston’s stomach. “You’ve got no idea how much I’m holding back from just pounding into you, Wes.”
It took a moment for Weston to find his voice, and when he did, the words were hoarse. “Don’t hold back.
We might…I don’t know if this can happen again. So don’t hold yourself back.”
For a moment, Mark’s eyes darkened, but almost as quickly as it occurred, the familiar spark returned. The wicked smile that had led several men astray trained on Wes now, Mark’s intent clear.
“You want me to bury my cock in you, is that it?” Mark tilted his body even more, allowing the wet tip to drag down Weston’s shaft. At the base, he shifted upward again, keeping the friction slow and even. “I don’t hold back, and you’re going to be screaming my name.”
Weston had no idea what it would feel like to be fucked, and a part of him was more than a little worried that it would hurt. He didn’t care. He wanted it. His whole body wanted it. He wanted to fold his arms and legs around Mark and let the other man fill him.
He nodded. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
Without lowering his chest again, Mark bowed his head to seek out Weston’s mouth. His teeth caught the lower lip, and he sucked at it as their cocks continued to rub against each other.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” he whispered. “If all I get is tonight, I want you in me too. I won’t have to wonder anymore what you feel like smothering me into a bed, then.”
Weston tried to imagine what it would be like to do exactly what Mark was suggesting…demanding.
Maybe it would be like his mouth, except tighter and hotter, and Mark’s whole body would be flexing beneath his, rising to meet him, holding him. The two of them joined, sharing the same passion and ecstasy. Sharing everything between their bodies. The sort of union that shouldn’t have been possible for WalkAmongUs:ACallingofSoulsstory
him. The sort of union he should not have needed. Or wanted.
The sort of union he had always known was possible with his best friend.
“Anything you want.”
Mark stilled. Weston tore his attention away from the succulent mouth that was now depriving him of kisses to see Mark’s eyes boring into his.
“No.” His voice was surprisingly firm. “Anything
we
want. I’m not just taking here, Wes. I won’t do that.
Not to you.”
Weston ran his knuckles over Mark’s cheek. “I know. I just meant that tonight…I want what you want.”