“Stop it. You stop it right now!” Brant felt laughter bubbling up in his chest, but he kept the smile off his face. Paul was stalking him, threatening him with a spanking, and Brant was trying to egg him on, not dissolve into chuckles.
Pretty tough, considering Paul was wearing a robe emblazoned with the coyote and roadrunner from the old cartoons and a pair of wolf slippers, both gifts from Brant. God, he loved giving his so dignified lover some very strange clothes. Paul wore every crazed outfit, too, showing off for him, proving his gifts had value.
Still, it was hard to take his andoni seriously when he resembled an escapee from Looney Tunes.
Paul growled, the vampire sound completely different from a wolf noise. “No stopping me, dabi. Your ass is mine tonight.”
“It’s yours every night.” Brant ducked around the sofa, skidding on the glossy hardwood floor of Paul’s cabin mansion. He raced around the big table in the entry hall, heading for the media room down the hall.
“Yes, and I wish to warm it with my hand.”
When Brant looked back the robe was flying, Paul shrugging out of it as he watched to let it ride the air like a magic carpet. The slippers went next, and Paul was naked. A pure, leanly muscled, apex predator. A thrill rushed up his spine, and Brant turned at the next hall, putting on a burst of speed to get them to the playroom.
Might as well be comfy. If Paul caught him in the hall, his ass wasn’t the only thing that would be raw. His elbows and knees would suffer, too.
The doorway taunted him when Paul caught him two feet from it, tackling him to the floor.
“Asshole! Let me go.” He loved fighting. Brant had fought Paul for real to begin with, and fought his inner wolf when the stupid animal declared Paul his mate. Now Brant fought because the struggle excited him, aroused him, and made Paul work just a little harder for what was his.
“No. I want to feed, dabi.”
His cock jerked, making it even more difficult to crawl away. Brant inched along until he dragged them into the playroom. “I don’t want that,” Brant lied, wiggling and kicking.
Paul laughed, the sound utterly confident. “You are so hard. I can smell how close the thought make you to coming, my love.”
“Shut up.” Brant growled the words, his ass cheeks clenching. He wanted Paul’s hands, wanted those fangs sliding into a vein. God, he wanted everything. So greedy.
“I hear your thoughts, dabi. You want me as much as I want you.”
Yes. So true. He wanted everything Paul could give him. Rolling to his back, he reached for Paul, wanting the press of that pale skin against his, the long, heavy cock.
Paul gave him what he wanted, sliding down to cover him. “I love when you run, dabi. You know that.”
“I know. Just as you love it when I give in.” He rolled up as far as he could, begging a kiss.
Paul gave it to him, taking his mouth, tongue pushing in. Those blade-sharp fangs slid against his lower lip, drawing blood. He bucked, his hips rolling, his cock pressing against Paul’s lower belly. They moved together, and Brant clung to Paul’s shoulders.
“Going to bite you now, my dabi. I want you to come for me when I do. Do you understand?”
Brant nodded, knowing this would just be the beginning. They were in the magical playroom Paul had constructed; they had all night.
He threw his head back, offering his throat, and Paul struck with lightning quickness, fangs punching through his skin. Brant screamed, the sound morphing into a howl, his muscles seizing up when he shot against Paul’s skin.
Paul moaned, easing back until he was just feeding idly, licking at Brant’s skin. Paul’s cock never eased a moment, and Brant knew it would be inside him soon, and he smiled up at the ceiling, so ready to see what the night held.
As long as Paul didn’t put that silly robe back on.