“Your house looks like a bed and breakfast inn,” he remarked in passing.
I turned and watched him shuck out of his jacket and then go to work on the buttons of his sheriff’s uniform. He looked so sexy in it but then again, I’d always been a sucker for a man in uniform, regardless of the type. Hell, I even found chainmail sexy on the right body. As we stripped out of our clothes, I zeroed in on the long lines of his body, his rippling muscles as he bent to remove his boots and socks. His chest was wide, covered in a smattering of black hair much like mine was.
When he straightened and began unbuckling his belt, I felt my fangs tingling again. I thought I should probably excuse myself to the kitchen for a snack but then again, how was I going to explain that I downed bottles of ketchup by the caseload for the sugar content and tangy sweetness between meals. I should have eaten.
Fuck.
Romeo unzipped his jeans with difficulty due to the extraordinary bulge in his briefs. When he pulled them down, I spotted the circle of precome on his navy boxer briefs and I felt my mouth water. Again, I was forced to concentrate on not dropping my fangs as I stripped off my clothes. He watched me as I took off my jeans and toed out of the Vans I wore without socks. My cock was hard and leaking precome in my boxers and I ignored the expression of lust on his face before drawing the waistband down over my uncut cock.
It sprang out as my boxers fell to the ground. He glanced up at me with a salacious grin as he lifted the waistband of his own stretched briefs over the head of his massive erection and pulled them down past his thighs, and then stepped out of them. When he stood again, all I could do was stare at his magnificent body. He was as toned and perfect as I knew he would be. I watched his gaze travel down my body and then the expression I’d seen on so many other lovers when they noticed my scars for the first time.
Romeo stepped forward and reached out, glancing up into my eyes as if asking for permission before I nodded. He glanced back down and brushed his fingers down the long scar that began at my left collar bone and terminated at my bellybutton. The strike of a barbarian’s broadsword had nearly cleaved me in two which I was certain was his intent before my uncle had put a pike through his head. He’d been dead before hitting the ground. I’d hovered between life and death for more than three weeks, holed up in a barn, sweating, shaking, and being nursed by my father and uncle until my fever had finally broken.
In the thirteenth century, it had taken me two months to recover enough to sit a horse again, six months before I felt completely confident in the saddle. If the same injury had happened on today’s battlefield, I would have been flown to an Army hospital, pumped full of antibiotics, sewn up with something other than catgut, and recovered fully in a matter of weeks.
“What happened here?” Romeo asked.
I smiled as he dropped his hand and stepped closer to him, sliding my arms around his neck. “Those are tales for another time. Right now, I need you, Romeo.”
He frowned slightly as my fingers slid into his hair. “I told you to call me Rome.”
“I won’t. Sorry,” I replied, without regret. “I like Romeo.” I smiled.
His reaction was to smirk and push me onto my bed. He followed me down, covering my body with his own as he took possession of my mouth once again. Our bodies moved rhythmically together, pressing, grinding, grasping. I felt the pound of his pulse in the tiny capillaries of his lips as heated blood raced through them. My sole focus became the realization that I had to taste him. The overwhelming desire to simply rip my mouth from his and sink my fangs into the side of his neck was all consuming.
Shockingly, the desire to have him inside me was even stronger.
When Romeo lifted his mouth again, he reached up, framing my face as he stared at me. His dark brown eyes were clouded with lust and his full lips were swollen from my kisses. His hair was messy and I wanted him more than life itself.
“You are so beautiful. Your eyes are a miracle,” he barely breathed. When his hand reached up to brush the hair off my forehead, I was surprised when he leaned down and kissed it. I shivered. No one had touched me with anything other than the desire to kill me or to fuck me since I’d been a small boy. “Do you have lube and condoms? I don’t want to hurt you,” he asked so matter of fact, it threw me for a moment. I was still panting for him and my mind was focused solely there. The fact was, I had neither lube nor condoms. In my room underground there was a shaving kit with lube but unless I revealed my secret, there was no way to get to it. Condoms weren’t necessary since my death prevented my body from carrying a live virus, nor could I pass one on. There was no way to explain that here and now. I slowly shook my head.
“I don’t… I mean I wasn’t thinking about meeting anyone and it’s been a long time.”
He leaned back, straddling me. He regarded my face for a moment and then reached for my rampant cock, curling his long fingers around it, and giving it a few slow strokes as his eyes once again met mine.
