“You’re such a tease,” Jamie whispered.
“I know.” Raoul smirked. “Here, sit up, so you can ride me.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Raoul bent his legs, and Jamie slid onto his lap, leaning back against his strong thighs. “You didn’t happen to bring lube, did you?” Jamie arched an inquisitive brow.
“Nope, just spit.”
Jamie lifted both hands, spitting into the palms. He reached between his legs and grasped Raoul’s erection, rubbing along the length. When Raoul was satisfied with the result, he held up the first two fingers of his right hand. With well-rehearsed practice, Jamie took them into his mouth and suckled. A jolt of electricity surged through him. Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers out. He adjusted his legs to lean Jamie back a little more, giving him better access to his hole. Trailing his digits across his perineum, he circled the rim, his thumb nudging the opening, relaxing the muscle before he inserted first one finger, then the other.
“More,” Jamie begged, “don’t stop.”
Raoul slid both fingers in up to the first knuckle, scissoring them, stretching the guardian muscle in order to relax it. They’d done this so many times, he could easily have mapped the interior of Jamie’s body, blindfolded. The process of making Jamie ready for him never took long. He knew just how much Jamie needed to be stretched in order to accommodate his wolfen girth. Neither one had ever had another lover. From the beginning, they’d been a perfect fit.
He bent his long fingers, inserting them all the way, reaching for Jamie’s prostate. Jamie arched his back in pleasure, pre-cum seeping from his cock. Jamie shivered with expectation.
“You feel ready, baby, are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” His breath came in ragged gasps as he situated himself, using his thigh muscles to hold him steady as he maneuvered over Raoul’s shaft. He grasped it, positioning the cockhead by his opening.
Jamie paused. Raoul looked up at him, their gazes locking. “I love you,” Jamie murmured in a voice that shook with emotion,
just before he impaled himself.
Raoul gasped, feeling himself sheathed in the warmth that was Jamie. Tightness and heat and everything that made life worth living—Jamie was all of that and more.
“God, I love you,” he blurted out in reply. He reached for one of Jamie’s hands, twining the fingers together as Jamie began to rock on his cock. Back and forth he moved with a heated urgency.
“Oh yeah, just like that…keep going, just keep going.”
With his free hand, he grasped Jamie’s weeping dick and stroked it hard. “Go faster, baby,” he urged him, and Jamie obeyed, ratcheting his hips into overdrive.
Raoul pumped his hips, matching the movement of his hand.
Their flesh slapped together wetly. Jamie always came first, that was an imperative for Raoul. With his werewolf stamina, he could hold out longer. He was glad to do it, in order to ensure Jamie’s pleasure.
He rolled his head back to keep the hair out of his face, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. Grains of sand had imbedded themselves in his ass—a minor irritation, nothing that wouldn’t wash off later. He could feel the vibrations that worked their way through Jamie’s body, feel the tension in his ball sac. His own body ached with his building orgasm, with the need to come.
“C’mere,” Raoul beckoned, and Jamie leaned forward.
Their lips came together, completing the circuit as their bodies melded seamlessly together, becoming one. Raoul felt the building pressure in Jamie’s cock, knew he was close just as he went off, pulsing beneath his hand, his seed splattering between them indiscriminately. His cries became swallowed in Raoul’s mouth.
He continued to grind against Raoul, working himself on his cock. “Fill me,” he commanded. “Fill me with you.”
Raoul held out as long as he could, reluctant to see this moment end, but he knew he couldn’t last forever, and when his orgasm hit, he came with a cry that resembled a howl. A similarity that only grew stronger at the time of the full moon.
Panting, he drew Jamie down to him. They disentangled their limbs so that Jamie could stretch out on him with some measure of comfort. “You’re amazing,” he praised his lover.
“You’re the amazing one, Raoul.” Jamie’s voice was muffled against his slick chest. He began to idly play with some of the dark curly hairs that sprouted there. Raoul made no move to stop him.
“I bet you’re just dying to curl those too,” he teased.
Jamie smirked broadly. “How’d you know?”
“Because I can read your mind.”
“Oh? Werewolf
and
mentalist? You should take that act on the road.”
“Maybe I will.” A contented chuckle welled up in Raoul’s chest as he gently stroked Jamie’s back. It died away as reality began to fall back into place. “We can’t stay here forever, you know.”
“Who’s gonna look for us?” Jamie propped his elbows on Raoul’s chest, fixing his eyes on him.
“People,” he replied vaguely, waving his hand in the general direction of the house, and the party they’d left.
“Did you want to go back there?”
“Not really,” Raoul replied frankly. “I prefer to be here with you.” Jamie’s grin only grew broader at the admission. “Don’t get a swelled head, or think you’re hot shit or anything.”
“Not me.” Jamie laughed. “Hey, you haven’t forgotten what you promised, have you?”
“Me, promise anything? I have no idea what you’re talking
about.” Raoul cast an innocent glance skyward.
“Don’t mess with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Jamie punched him lightly in the chest. Raoul feigned a groan.
“You’re such a brute, Jamie McKenna.” He didn’t give Jamie time to respond, drawing him in for a deep kiss, virtually sucking his breath away. He moved his hand to the back of Jamie’s head, holding him tightly.
They came up for air at last, and lay together contentedly, listening to one another’s heartbeat. Raoul shifted his weight on the sand and tried not to grimace. It felt cold and gritty beneath his ass.
“Tell me what you want,” he said at last, although he already knew the answer.
“You promised me that when I was of age, you’d take me to the Lupercalia Ball. And that happens next month, remember?”
“Remember? How could I forget?” Raoul conceded, rolling his eyes. “Twenty-one. I remember. All grown up.”
Jamie arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re only a couple of months older than me. Don’t act like you’re Father Time or something. Besides, I think I grew up when we started having sex,”
he corrected him. “Unless you’re telling me you like to do children?”
“Don’t be daft. I just meant grown up in the legal sense.”
“So you’ll take me to the Ball?”
The Lupercalia Ball was one of the hugest events in the area, supernatural or otherwise. Werewolves came from all around the world to attend, lured by its prestige. Admission was by invitation only, and those of the non-supernatural persuasion could only get in accompanied by one of the supernatural set. Even vampires
were allowed to attend, a truce being called for the duration of the event. Then there was that pesky being of age requirement, strictly enforced for a variety of reasons. The biggest being to not ruffle the feathers of the local establishment. Life was hard enough without that, and the wolves did their best to get along.
Being a werewolf, and being a member of one of the highest ranking families in the lycanthropic hierarchy, Raoul had an automatic in and always had. But this would be the first time he was able to bring Jamie with him. Although he wouldn’t let on to his boyfriend, he’d been dreaming of this for a long time—of taking him there, of walking into the ballroom with Jamie on his arm, of dancing with him beneath the dancing lights of the huge crystal chandeliers that graced the ballroom.
But he wasn’t going to admit to that. Not right away, anyway.
“Did I say I’d take you to the Ball?”
Jamie didn’t bother to answer. His response was to snake his hand between their sweaty bodies, grasping Raoul’s slick cock, already half hard again at his touch. “Does this jar your memory any?”
“You don’t play fair,” Raoul whined.
Jamie climbed up his body, nibbling at the edge of his ear.
“C’mon, admit it, wolf boy. We’ll be the hottest couple there. You and me in our matching tuxes. We’ll turn every hairy head in the room.”
“Now that’s not exactly how I’d describe—” His protestations were cut off by Jamie’s lips. He surrendered to them, willingly.
“All right, all right, I give,” he said at last. “We’ll go the Ball.
Together. If I live that long, that is. If you haven’t managed to fuck me to death before then.” He pretended to groan.
“Death by fucking? How intriguing!” Jamie threw back his
head and laughed, the sound echoing in the otherwise still night.
Suddenly, without warning, he started to rise from his position atop Raoul, tugging at his lover’s hand.
“What’s wrong? Where’s the fire?”
“I want to take a swim. C’mon, let’s go skinny dipping, Raoul.”
“Right now?” Another groan, this one real.
“Well, we
are
here,” Jamie pointed out practically.
“No, let’s not and say we did.” He tried to draw Jamie back down to him, but Jamie pulled out of his grasp.
“How about if I go while you stay here and wait for me?”
“Jamie, it’s late,” Raoul pointed out. “And it’s dark. Plus it’s stupid to go swimming alone. You know better than that.”
“You’ll be right here,” Jamie replied. “And I’m not going to go too far out. I just want to cool off and get clean before we go back.”
“Before we pick up all our clothes too,” Raoul grumbled.
“You’ll find them. You’ve got that whole werewolf vision going on.” Jamie bent down and kissed Raoul’s cheek. “Besides, you hated that costume anyway. Admit it.”
“I didn’t hate it,” Raoul half-heartedly protested.
“I love you for saying that, but damn, you looked so smokin’ in those breeches. You made me want to cream my jeans.”
Raoul forget every argument he was going to make. Jamie’d managed to flabbergast him. Again.
“On one condition. Keep whistling every few minutes so I can hear you.”
“Yes, Dad.” Jamie pressed two fingers against his forehead in a mock salute. “Will do.” He turned toward the ocean.
“I mean it. Every few minutes. Or I’ll be in there after you.”
“You got it.” He whistled a few bars of “Bolero” for good measure. “How’s that?”
“That’s great. Now hurry up. People will start to wonder where we are, you know. Eventually.”
“My folks know I’m with you and perfectly safe. Yours are right up the beach. Lighten up, Raoul. Hey, I love you.” He kissed his cheek again, producing familiar tingles that cascaded through Raoul’s body, burrowing into his heart.
“All right, all right, go on.” He watched Jamie scamper away, into the darkness, toward the water, heard him make an overly loud splash for his benefit, coupled with Ravel.
“I hear you!” Raoul called. He turned over on the sand, feeling sleepy after exerting so much energy. He’d rather have lain here with Jamie, but that obviously wasn’t happening. He tried to lie on his arms, or at least his hands, but after trying various positions, none of them felt right and he gave up, turning onto his stomach.
The Lupercalia Ball was actually the culmination of the three-day Lupercalia festivities. Not only would it be Jamie’s first, but Raoul had been making plans of his own for that night. Something Jamie’d never see coming. He’d bought an engagement ring, and he was going to propose to him. Ask Jamie to marry him. He’d been thinking of nothing else for the last two years. It was time to take the step, make their relationship forever and permanent. Raoul smiled to himself at the idea.
Whistling floated toward him. “Hear ya,” he called, lacing his hands beneath his cheek. It was slightly more comfortable than the bare sand. His eyelids drooped, as he began to sink toward sleep.
He roused himself as he was about to nod off. No, he didn’t want to go to sleep, had to listen for Jamie. Jamie and “Bolero.” That was his favorite song. He whistled it all the time, drove Raoul
crazy.
He remembered the first time he’d seen Jamie. They were just kids. First graders. Jamie was the new kid in town. He’d been assigned to Raoul’s class. On his first day, he managed to charm the teacher, and make friends with all the other kids. Raoul was the exception, the loner. He’d been unsure about the whole school thing, and had never been away from home before, surprisingly shy. Jamie had made the first move, breaking the ice between them. Raoul had been smitten by him from day one, although it took him a good long while to put a name to the feeling he got whenever he was with Jamie.
They became inseparable, spending every waking moment together. Jamie’s assistance had been invaluable during puberty, when Raoul had experienced the change for the first time. Luckily, it wasn’t as severe as it was during his father’s youth. Now modern medicine supplied a drug that kept the effects controllable, and assured that Raoul stayed in possession of his mental faculties, even as a wolf. Which meant that he knew and recognized Jamie, and would never harm him.
They’d even played together on moonlit nights. Jamie would throw a stick, and the wolf would fetch. Although Raoul would complain about it the next day, tell Jamie he wasn’t a damn dog, and— Jamie.