"You want to die tonight?"
James asked,
"Is that it?"
Tom licked at the blood on his bottom lip and the cut there stung,
"I want what you want…Kill me… Claim me…"
He shrugged in James's hold,
"It doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?"
"No…"
He shook his head,
"It doesn't matter anymore…"
They weren't fighting anymore. They were pressed so tight against each other, almost like an embrace, Tom's back to the wall, and James's hard body on him. Tom felt every inch of him. Every ridge.
Especially the thick, promising curve of James's erection.
Damn. Tom touched him, a hand on the middle of his back. James flinched, he felt it, saw it in the depths of his eyes. But he didn't move away. The heat of him burned through to Tom's palm.
Incredibly, unbelievably, Tom's entire being shook. Like a nervous virgin, the way he felt. Fire stroked at his belly, hardening him. James's grip on his hair tightened and he tugged.
Tom inhaled, taking James's musk of skin, man and lust into his lungs.
"Why doesn't it matter anymore?"
James asked in a murmur. The fingers of his other hand stroked Tom's chin, gliding through the blood there,
"Tell me."
James pushed his fingers, tipped with blood, into Tom's mouth.
Damn him!
He latched on, moaning. James groaned, and his lashes fluttered, hiding his eyes from Tom. He sucked on those thick fingers, his hand on James's back curling to claw at him.
Digging in.
Holding on.
He bucked against James, and the other man's breath hitched.
"Tom."
His fingers tunnelled in and out of Tom's mouth, rough. Hitting the back of his throat, pressing down and making him gag. A punishment in itself.
Tom shook his head. He didn't want to answer questions. He wanted to suck on anything James had to offer. His fingers. His mouth…Anything
Hell, maybe even his cock
The fingers went away with a wet pop.
No. Tom grabbed at the retreating hand, but James dropped it to his side.
"Tom."
He gaped. It hadn't registered before, James's use of his name. On his tongue, on his voice, harsh and rugged it ripped at Tom. He touched his hand to James's stubbled cheek.
"Because it just doesn't matter,"
He said, his voice was husky, still loaded down with the lust that rode him so hard,
"I just don't care anymore"
Not right then.
Caught in James's gaze, Tom watched himself trip and fall. Leaving his neck wide open, unprotected. Barriers crashing and crumbling. He might die in this place, which was a distinct possibility.
But James's breath had turned choppy, lips parted as he refused to budge.
This thing, Tom wanted it. He ached to give in to it.
He made the first move this time.
Taking.
Slamming his mouth down on James's.
He'd been waiting, because James opened immediately for Tom, sweeping in. Those strokes, they made him quiver. Made him arch and press closer.
Desperation.
Both of them taking even though they knew, it could never happen. It should never happen. All the lust swirling hot and thick in Tom's groin hardened him. And he rubbed, clutching James to him.
Grinding.
But the guilt, something he didn't recall ever experiencing before, twisted his insides. The lines he'd crossed, the things he'd done. Taking what James offered up with those grunts and the wild trusts of his tongue was selfish.
To hell with it…
Tom sipped on him, and James flowed over and into him like water.
Water.
He swallowed him down, letting James cool him. Letting him soak those dark hidden places, parched and desolate.
Water.
Like that precious commodity, suddenly James was everything Tom needed. So, he drank, hands dropping low to grab onto James's hips and spin them until James was the one against the wall. Until James was the one staring at Tom with need in those cloudy eyes, waiting for the next move.
What they were doing, how they'd gotten to this place, the unspoken swirled around them. Thickening the air between them even more. All the reasons why the only answer to all the questions would be no….
But James brushed a lock of hair from Tom's forehead… The gesture so tender and undeniably gentle…
So naturally, Tom had to kiss him again, shove his tongue deep enough to choke. He had to claim his mouth and eat at him, bite and tear at this man with his teeth. Even when James's head banged against the wall, Tom didn't stop. Because James didn't want him to, not with the way he moaned.
Not with the way he rocked forward, pushing his erection against Tom's own.
Not even when he tore his mouth away, and tipped his head back, exposing his throat for Tom to dip his head, licking at James's jugular until the other man shuddered, yanking on Tom's hair and whispering,
"I'm burning up…"
Tom tore at James's shirt, taking one step back and yanking it open.
Buttons fell at his socked feet as the material came apart, exposing James's smooth naked chest. The smile that had been forming on Tom's mouth froze.
Cracked.
Shattered.
He sat there, on his skin, in colorful ink. His name tattooed all over his torso. About a dozen different sizes, a dozen different fonts. But he was there. Over his heart he shined brighter in a fancy script font. His name, a date, followed by the words…
Blood for blood.
All inside the outline of a broken black heart.
Tom's bones never felt so heavy. He never felt so stripped. And he'd never wanted something he could never have more than right this second. He'd thought he'd never experience his heart break…
He'd been so wrong.
James joined him in that fatalistic silence, and they stared at each other. Each man knowing…
"This can never happen."
Tom was the one to put it to words, but James didn't contradict him. In fact, his captor looked shell-shocked. As if he'd just caught on to the realization that he was about to cross that line, betray his wolf with the man whose hands were soaked in blood he could never wash away. He'd never apologized. Had never considered the possibility that he should.
Why would he? He hadn't been the one that had caused the fire…
But a fresh wave of devastation crashed over James's face, and Tom stepped forward,
"James…"
The bedroom door splintered open.
"Hands up! Hands up!"