There was a light pinpoint prick to the side of his tongue that made Hunter start and pull his tongue back. One of Malcolm's thick, square hands grabbed his jaw, holding him in place and his mouth open as the vampire's tongue lapped at the lining of his mouth and suckled at the bleeding wound. The sting of the cut intensified, then spread, fanning out to run tiny rivers of fire down his skin. He felt like he'd been doused in gasoline, skin raw, burning, ready to ignite at the first hint of a spark. And then the whispers where back in his head, a mellow, rich baritone, smoothing away the burn and extinguishing the pain while they fed the passion and desire.
Hunter stopped pushing Malcolm away. He wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck and returned the fervor of the kiss in kind, giving Malcolm control but without giving up his own desires. He freed a leg and threw it over Malcolm's hip and ass, locking it around one of his heavily muscled thighs, heel digging in as hard as he could.
Malcolm wrenched Hunter's head away and stared down into his unrepentant eyes.
"I want more, Malcolm. I want you to fuck me. If you're going to own me, do it right. Claim every part of me."
A hard, penetrating glare sliced through Hunter. Malcolm had gone still, his grip on Hunter's jaw and in his hair like a vise, menacing, reminding Hunter who and what he was in bed with.
"I don't take orders.” It was a silky whisper, more frightening than a bellowed roar. A single, chastising kiss ghosted over his lips. “From anyone."
Hunter had to work to keep from tearing up from the painful hold in his hair. “If you want, think of it as a last request.” He felt his heart pulse in his neck, felt the skin tighten over it, heard the rapid thump-thump-thump in his ears. He knew Malcolm could see his pulse by the way the vampire's look flickered to his neck between narrow-eyed glares and sneering, lethally whispered words.
"If I want?” It was light, amused even, a sudden change in attitude. “Is that what you want as your last request? To be fucked?” Malcolm rolled his hips and tilted his groin, causing a grind and rub of cool cock against hot cock.
Hunter groaned, biting his lip to keep from crying out, frustrated need boiling in his gut, scalding through his veins and nerves. “Since I don't think I stand a chance in hell of surviving this?” The cold, predator's glint in the vampire's eyes caught his attention. He swallowed hard, fear gaining a new foothold. “Yes. I'd rather it was something more, but yes, I'll settle for fucking."
"Why something more?” Malcolm frowned. “The physical act is enjoyable without the emotional attachment.” Hunter tried to arch and grind again, but Malcolm pressed him firmly onto the mattress, stilling his movements by sheer greater weight.
"Honestly?"
A slight narrowing of Malcolm's gaze gave Hunter permission to go on. He felt his face heat. His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip, and Malcolm's gaze flickered down to watch. Hunter tasted spiced copper. The knowledge that it was left behind by Malcolm made his mouth water and his gut burn with need.
"I guess I've got nothing to lose by saying it out loud. It's not like there's going to be a morning after to get embarrassed over sappy cock talk, right?” Tears stung his eyes, and he gasped a little to bring them under control before they had the chance to humiliate him by falling.
The hold on his jaw lessened. Hunter worked his jaw to ease the stiffness in it, then sighed, eyes focusing on Malcolm's steady gaze. “It's just ... you're everything I've ever fantasized about in a lover. You make me feel everything I've dreamed about. Passion, danger, power, need, animal attraction.” His fists balled on the muscled ridge of Malcolm's broad shoulders, pressing hard on the alabaster surface. “If things had been different, maybe even ... love."
He snorted a weak laugh, knowing he sounded like a schoolgirl. “I guess that's why you're not human.” He snorted a short laugh again, and this time a single drop of moisture managed to trickle out the corner of one eye and into his hair. “To be my perfect fantasy lover, you'd have to be unreal, wouldn't you?"
Malcolm was still and silent for so long, cold gray eyes boring into his, Hunter began to think something was wrong with the vampire. Even the whisper in his head had gone silent, but he could still feel its power drifting in his mind, a constant presence, as if a cool mountain stream trickled through the nooks and crannies of his brain.
Something shifted in Malcolm's stare, the icy stare, one thumb moving to caress the line of Hunter's cheek. It was alarmingly affectionate, the deep, low voice now raw and oddly pitched. “Do you want to survive this, Hunter Pray?"
Red tendrils fanned out from the edges of icy-icy gray in Malcolm's irises, turning the whites of his eyes to pools of scarlet.
Hunter's breath froze in his lungs, and he had to gasp to keep the growing dizziness at bay.
"I don't know.” In his head, the whisper crooned
