Blood Brothers (Rocky Mountain Shifters)

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Blood Brothers

Copyright © 2013 by Susan Arden

ISBN: 978-1-61333-598-7

Cover art by Tibbs Designs

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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Blood Brothers

By

Susan Arden

~DEDICATION~

Thank you to all those who have served and sacrificed to protect. At times, I’m at a loss what it all means, but that doesn’t diminish I’m here, able to exercise my First Amendment freedom(s) each day because a group of brave men and women make it possible.

Thank you to Decadent Publishing for undertaking to bring this story to reality and to Tiffany Maxwell for her superb editing.

Karma isn’t something that comes around.

I believe, karma is present at conception.

Our soul’s purpose

Each day, may I strive to live my karma.

Namaste
.

The blow shook the ground, sending a cloud of dust upward, and then the shower began to fall. Dirt, rock, and bits of paper rained down on Tristen’s helmet. He hauled ass around the wall of a blown-up building, low and stealthy, then he stopped abruptly. Slumping against the crumbling brick wall, he stared at the ground where the burned and bleeding body of a soldier lay facedown in the mud. The scent of charred flesh and hair assailed his nostrils. Christ, another man down.

A second explosion rumbled the ground. Clouds of smoke surrounded him. Coughing, he closed his eyes to ease the sting and wiped his forehead on the back of his arm. How many did that make on this mission?

He opened his eyes and peered at the man at his feet. “Poor fucker.” Shifting his rifle slung across his back, he prepared to remove the man’s dog tags. Tristen stalled his movement. Shit, there was something all too familiar about this soldier. His chest tightened as he knelt and began turning the man. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he observed. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the image. The soldier…was him.

He choked as the breath exploded from his chest. Dizziness strangled him, accompanied by the feeling of the world closing in, his peripheral vision darkening. Sweat poured off his face and body. The sound of screaming filled the air.

“Wake up. Tristen, for God’s sake. Man, you’re dreaming.” Fin’s voice rose above the screams.

“Let go.” Tristen loosened Fin’s grip and regarded the bare-chested man next to him. Another messed-up dream had the wolf in Tristen bristling, and he held back from shifting. “Not again.”

His predator sense engulfed him, so close to the surface a feral growl filled his throat. All he had to do was let go of his control and shift into a timber wolf. He panted in his hunger for an escape from disorientation after another nightmare infused with savage carnage. As a beta wolf, he’d be free to head out the door, down the gravel path in front of the house, and disappear into cool, pine forest. Back to his primal instincts that had kept him alive.

“Dude, take it easy,” Fin muttered, swiping a hand down Tristen’s chest. “Just another bad dream. Settle down. You’re about to shift. Shit, it’s the middle of the night, and you’ll be worn out if you tear out of here. Do you hear me?”

“Dammit. Yeah. I got it. Monday will be here soon enough, and I’ve a shitload on my plate.” Tristen wiped the perspiration running down the sides of his face. He glanced at the clock.
Barely past three in the morning
. This was more than the witching hour; it was the time he generally awoke in a cold sweat. He struggled to find his footing in the present, pushing aside the images of carnage and smoking embers that were so real. He scanned the room, half-expecting to see wisps of smoke. His dreams were filled to the brink with fire. Flames were always licking something. Burned buildings, cars, bodies. The scent lingered. Longer tonight.

“Go back to sleep.” Fin scratched the skin along the side of his face, his eyes glowing mercurially in the dim light.

“Another man down. Will it ever stop?” Tristen sat up, the pervasive scent of charred
everything
still wracking his brain. His heart pumped overtime, so ramped up he felt the beat in his throat. The rhythm in his ears drowned out Fin’s voice. He leaned forward and the sheets twisted around his naked body. “Fuck, did I scream?”

“Christ, piercing, like a girl.” Fin held up his hand. “Naw, you yelled once—fuck, I don’t know, maybe twice.” His partner yawned. “You okay, need anything? Don’t you think it might be time to think about therapy? Just talking to other soldiers could ease the pressure.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” Tristen muttered. “No one’s interested in this shit. You’re a fine one to suggest talk therapy. How about you?”

Fin shrugged. “I do yoga. That’s my therapy. There’s no need for words.”

Tristen shot him a look. “How’s that working out when you’re off the mat?”

“So far, I don’t have nightmares.”

“There are worse things. Real things. This is just bullshit taking a bite of me. Sooner or later, it’ll let loose.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw and held onto his forehead, unable to fully believe he wasn’t still back in Afghanistan or Iraq. Hell on Earth. Time froze over there.

During his deployment, he’d been a killing machine. But unlike a machine, he didn’t have an on and off button that prevented the flashbacks. No way to erase his mind into a clean and tidy package.

His pulse slowed, and his fingers itched to open the nightstand drawer. Check out his bottle of martini pills. So far he’d not taken a single one. He kept them just in case—an emergency stash ready and able if he needed it.

“Come here.” He dropped back onto the pillows, pulling Fin down with him. “Christ, there are better ways to forget.” Fin’s hard body provided a workout that he used over and over again when nightmares plagued him. At first it was out of need that he’d learned fucking his friend dissolved the terror. Then he’d realized that was all he wanted to do. He’d not licked pussy in five, maybe six years, and couldn’t imagine going back.

“If I could really blow your mind….” Fin stroked his face, lightly tracing his jaw.

“Fuck, man, give me what I need.” Tristen ran his hand over the wall of smooth muscle that formed his partner’s chest. This was his
fucking therapy
.

Fin’s cock was ramrod hard, and he held it out to him. “You wanting to take or give tonight?”

Tristen gazed at Fin stroking himself, pulling down on the head of his dick. His lover palmed his glistening crown, teasing Tristen with a low growl. Fin’s beta-wolf eyes glowed red as he pumped into his hand, releasing crystal droplets. His lips curled at the increasing speed of his hand. The slapping sound of his lover’s prick against his palm made Tristen edgy, sharpening his need for relief. “Fuck, I’m in a savage mood. I think if I fucked you, I’d come out your mouth. Buddy, fill me up. Don’t hold back tonight.”

“Do I ever? I’m not the one skating away from the edge.” Fin’s eyes gleamed above a wolfish grin complete with four prominent canines. “We can take what we do farther.”

“Fuck, Fin, let’s not go there. We tried that shit, and it didn’t help. I nearly beat you into submission. That’s not therapy, it was borderline torture.”

The one thing—other than yoga—that Fin did to forget was off-the-charts bondage. The man had a taste for submission and not the pretend type. Fin thirsted to taste the hotter-than-hell kink world of chains, whips, leather, restraints—anything that wove pain into pleasure.

“Hey, did I ever complain?”

“That’s a trick question. True to form, you never whined. Never said a word. Took what I delivered until you blacked out. Now, that’s on my head. I can’t…fuck, I won’t take out my frustration on you.”

“What do ya suggest?”

“Do what we do best. Baby, this is about you and me. Here.” Tristen pulled on Fin’s neck and kissed him. Long and hard. He sucked Fin’s lips and then his tongue. Returning to bite his lover’s bottom lip, Tristen whispered, “First, let me prime you. Push you into overdrive.”

Fin rose to his knees, held onto the headboard with one hand, and dipped his cock into Tristen’s mouth. “God that feels good. Open wide and do me, Tris.”

Hungrily, Tristen sucked his lover’s dick into his mouth with the intent to take him from hard to titanium. Brushing his lips over Fin’s cockhead, he sucked smooth flesh with swift strokes up and down Fin’s shaft. He returned to sucking the crown across his taut lips, and then scraping his teeth along Fin’s ridge. He cupped his partner’s nuts and sucked him deeper until Fin groaned. He fingered the ridge between Fin’s ball sac and his asshole, rubbing the place he needed to be.

Fin began to rock his hips back and forth, gyrating and moaning. “Tris, take me all the way down your throat. That’s it.” He let go of the headboard to clasp Tristen’s head, shoving a fully engorged cock into his mouth.

Releasing him, Tristen pushed Fin’s hips back. “I can feel your balls tightening. Fucker, this is
my
therapy. Jam your dick up my ass, you greedy shithead.”

Laughing, Fin got behind him and slipped his finger along the seam of Tristen’s ass. “There are such things as dildos, dude. You’ve never protested before.”

“I never woke up from a dream like this one. Now shut your mouth and fuck me back to sanity. Goddamn, Fin, ride my ass, and make me forget that shithole we were stationed at for six years. For a couple of minutes, anyway.”

Fin spat into his palm and rubbed saliva round the head of his dick. Tristen dove onto his stomach with his legs spread-eagled. He didn’t grimace when Fin roughly pushed open his ass cheeks. He didn’t make a sound when Fin’s cock drove into him, and the burn of his sphincter muscles gave way to a ring of nerves, sparking pleasure over pain.

In one hard thrust, Fin seated his cock deep inside Tristen. “How’s that for a cure?” Fin curled his hands around Tristen’s torso, slowly easing back the length of his shaft before slamming back into him, forcing the air from his lungs.

Fin worked his powerful body just the way Tristen liked it, thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into him. The rhythmic sound of his lover’s balls slapping against his ass replaced the battlefield cries plaguing him.

Oh God, Fin gave it to him good. His dick was long, thick, and fucked a rough ride. Fin rode bareback, pulling out his shaft to the point of teasing torture, and then ramming his cock into back into Tristen’s ass.

This was the only method Tris had found capable of scratching an irritating itch that surfaced in his dreams. He craved letting someone else lead, if only for a while. Right now, he hovered between two worlds: back overseas and here in this bed.

The heat blazing in his balls ignited. He dug his hand under his hips pinned to the mattress and began stroking his own cock. Fuck, it was hard to hold back from climaxing as Fin pumped into his ass. He wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten off a doubleheader tonight. In this ramped-up condition, he had to feel the rush of Fin’s semen spraying inside his ass and then he’d whack off and shoot a load down Fin’s throat.