Head tilted back by Malcolm's grip, Hunter let his lust-heavy eyelids flutter up to study Malcolm's chiseled, pale features, hoping to see the answer in the vampire's expression as well as hear it in his throaty voice. “If a vampire tastes a person's blood, can they really know his thoughts? Control him?"
"No.” It was said in part smugness, part disdain. “A vampire is merely nourished by a human's blood."
"That's a relief.” Hunter drew in a deep breath to sigh out his gratitude, but the air was pushed from his lungs with a grunt. His back slammed up against the wall by the bedroom door, his body pressed chest to chest to Malcolm's iron length.
The vampire's hand wove its way into his hair and tugged, bowing his back slightly and arching his groin out to grind on the thick thigh forced between his legs. It was delicious, if unexpected, demanding yet wholly seductive. As powerful, as swift, as the lift and slam had been, Hunter knew Malcolm was being restrained, and the thoughts of what more lay beneath that restraint thrilled him as much as it frightened him.
Harsh, raw, and unapologetic, Malcolm murmured, “It's after a human tastes a vampire's blood that the mental and physical binding occurs."
"Fuck."
The taste of spiced copper and vibrant, liquid lust lingered on his palate and burned the corners of his mouth. The tip of Hunter's tongue immediately darted to one corner to wipe it away, but captured it instead as though it was the finest ambrosia. His skin prickled at the thought of what he had just done, what Malcolm had just said. He believed the truth in the vampire's words, felt it coursing in his own veins, heard the whispers weaving ghostly tendrils of control through his mind.
"Well ... just ... fuck."
Hunter sucked in a deep breath to tell Malcolm to stop, to let him go, to move away so he could think, but his hands, one still tightly clenching his father's ring, moved to the vampire's neck instead. Once there, they hung on. He pulled the taller man closer and wrapped a leg around him, his hands now busy undoing both their flies, his fingers suddenly thick and uncoordinated, fumbling over the remaining buttons on his own jeans and battling with the zipper tab on Malcolm's dress pants.
Bracing them both, Malcolm let him work, merely transferring his own lips to rain attention on the line of Hunter's jaw and the curve of his sweat-slick neck.
It took too long, but finally both cocks sprang free. Then things moved too fast for Hunter to process. Air whipped around them, vibrating with electricity, leaving his flesh feeling slightly scorched. One minute he was pinned between his living room wall and Malcolm's body, and the next he was gasping for air, lying completely naked, pinned between his bed's mattress and the vampire's cool, hard weight.
His pulse pounded in his head, and his cock matched the hammering beat with its own throbbing rhythm. Hunter's nerves were so hypersensitive, every lick to his neck felt like a wet stroke that ended at his weeping cock. The scent of pre-cum filled the air, and the bump and grind of cock on cock turned slick as satin on steel.
He struggled to fill his lungs, the air heavy despite the light breeze from the open window. Lips moved from his neck to his mouth, devouring, dominating, and delicious. Malcolm's rough, wet tongue sucked on his lower lip, teasing its sensitive lining, urging his teeth to open. His mouth surrendered, and Malcolm invaded full force, crushing Hunter's mouth to his, arms wrapped tightly around him, hand holding his head in place by a powerful, possessive grip on his hair.
The kiss was deep, powerful, all encompassing. It made the room spin and the dim bedside lamplight glow like a supernova. It stole Hunter's breath, his rapidly diminishing resistance, and his last lingering doubt that this was real. He knew with certainty that it was not some bizarre erotic dream. Or nightmare. The creature who had him locked in his arms was a vampire after all. But any fear he had over what making love with a vampire might entail was overshadowed by the passion and desire consuming him.
A deep moan of pleasure escaped him, and there was an answering murmur that could have been admonishment or agreement. The murmur vibrated through his chest, sending shocks of need and want straight to his groin. His balls pulled up and his cock jerked, frantic for more than belly friction in its own wet droplets. Hunter craved the heat of a thick, hard shaft, slick and supple as satin-capped steel sliding into his body, piercing him to his heart, stoking the fires of passion until it burned him from the inside out.
Suddenly the spicy hot burn of slick copper washed over his taste buds. And this time Hunter gulped greedily at Malcolm's blood, hungry for the connection that intensified every nerve in his body, every touch and stroke, every response from his willing lips to his eager cock and spasming opening. He hungered for it all, his soul consumed by the need as much as his body was consumed by Malcolm's mouth and hands. The vampire's cool-as-ivory cock skated alongside his as the taller, larger man hunched over Hunter, curled around him from on top, lips to lips and cock to cock, weight and ravenous hunger enfolding him as completely as Malcolm's arms did.
Skin sweat-slick and fevered, Hunter clenched his ass and tried to buck his hips, desperate for more contact, more friction. He moaned and whimpered, the sounds muffled by tongue and lips, but the tone clear. The grip in his hair tightened, but Malcolm didn't relent in the kiss or his dominant, unyielding position. As frustrating as it was, Hunter felt a thrill wash through him as Malcolm pinned him more fully to the mattress and renewed his oral assault.
It was passionate and powerful. Hunter couldn't resist the lure of stroke and rub,
