Authors: Ann Somerville
Tags: #M/M Paranormal, #Source: Smashwords, #_ Nightstand
Hidden Faults (44 page)
I leaned my forehead against his. “I just...needed to show you. Make you believe somehow. Damn it, Kir, I’ve missed you like a fire in my heart all this time. You have to believe me.” If only it was possible to drop my shields—but once built, they could not easily be torn down.
“I believe you,” he murmured, kissing my cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick over this. I was scared, and it stopped me. I don’t want to be scared any more.”
“I still don’t know if I can do that,” I said, staring into his eyes.
“So?”
“I just...it feels to me like I won’t have finished healing. Won’t have put the past—you and me and the thing with my memories, Ganwe, all of it—behind me, until I can overcome the fear. It’s like an ulcer on my soul.”
He sighed and tugged gently at my left earlobe, petting it a little. “I lied to you, kinda. Before.”
I frowned at him. “When?”
“When I said my staying depended on you. It didn’t. It depended on me. If I could stand being around you and not....” He smiled. “Then I worked out it’s a case of I can’t stand not to be around you. That’s stronger than any fear.”
“Then be around me. It’s what I want, and if I have to put Hermi on a rollo and bring him down here to prove it to you, I will.”
“I don’t need Hermi to prove anything.” He kissed me, and I let myself fall into the taste of his lips, letting it heal, letting it bless me. I didn’t care, would never care if he had wrought this because it felt so right.
He put his arms around me, strong and so very real. I buried my face in his jacket, inhaling his scent, the uniform smelling new and unfriendly over my memories of him.
I tugged at the collar. “You look good in this but I want you out of it.”
I heard the grin in his voice. “Yeah? Gonna make it worth my while?”
I looked up at him. “Will you let me?”
“
You can do whatever you want to do.
Want
being the important bit of that, okay?”
“Then will you take that bloody horrible uniform off? It’s giving me hives.”
He chuckled. “Let go and I will.”
“No. Get undressed like this.”
“You’re a nut, Jodi.”
“Not flexible enough?”
“Oh fuck you.”
It terrified me, how easily we could screw things up. How fragile we both were. But right now, as Kir squirmed and wriggled, trying to undo all the fastenings on his uniform within the confines of my arms, and being distracted by the more than occasional kiss, I could only be grateful, and desire him.
It seemed to me there was a lot of unnecessary crotch grinding going on even though his pants were already undone. “Hmmm, are you up to something, Mas Kirvo?”
“Trying to get my fucking pants off, you sadist. Let go so I can take my shoes off, will ya?”
I knelt again so I could do it for him, sliding his trousers down, and unbuckling his boots, lifting them off his long narrow feet and slipping the trousers and underwear off as well. I tossed them aside and smiled at his exasperated snort. As I knelt up, I found myself face to face with his cock.
“Sorry—”
He tried to move back, but I gripped his legs.
“
No.” I leaned forward and kissed it, the butter-soft skin so sweet against my lips, then buried my nose in the curls at his groin, inhaling Kir’s rich warmth, sweat and arousal and clean, healthy man. His erection brushed against my cheek, but I concentrated on him—all of him. The tight muscles of his firm buttocks, and long legs under my hands. The crisp springiness of the curls on my face, delicate crinkling against my beard, and then his hands, gently, protectively, on my head again.
“I love you,” I whispered against his belly, my lips tracing vibrations into his skin. A tattoo of affection, invisible to all but me. His pulse beat firmly against my mouth, strong and healthy, so alive to me.
His cock beat against my cheek too, quivering gently in time with his heart. The lush smell of his need poked at a part of my brain I’d suppressed for too long. I nuzzled against that silky length and he chuckled.
“Your fucking beard tickles.”
“Sorry,” I lied cheerfully and did it again, grinning at his little jump and laugh. I turned my head and placed a little kiss at the base of his cock, letting myself feel the rigid strength behind tender skin. Another kiss, a little further along. I dared to lick, to taste it, sliding my tongue along the warm perfection. I let the licks grow longer, braver, exploring a little more. My hand slid up his inner thigh and cupped his heavy balls. He twitched, but didn’t complain. He let me find my own pace, and I was grateful for that kindness.
No one in prison had ever given me this kind of time, or consideration. Or smelled like Kir, or petted my hair as I licked him, or touched my cheek with so much tenderness. No one in prison had ever given me the choice I knew I had here, to stop, to walk away. No one in prison had been as beautiful as Kir, and I had never wanted any of them. I wanted him, and the more I could get of him, the better.
I tongued around the crown, tasting him, and before I could overthink it, took him in. I heard my name murmured, and felt Kir’s fingers lightly under my jaw, supporting, encouraging, but never forcing, never making this about his wants. He let this be about me, this time, and that made the difference that let me do it at all.
I took my time, because that too was different. I didn’t need to get him off as quickly as I could, or at all. I paused, his cock still in my mouth, so I could move my hands, touch his belly, his legs, cup and carefully roll his balls. Exploring his body, reconnecting. I needed to draw this out as long as I could, because the longer it took, the less it reminded me of those furtive, hasty assignations in that cold and smelly stock room, felt more and more like the act of love I so desperately needed.
And I was into it more than I thought possible, because I’d forgotten how much I loved the feel of a man’s cock on my tongue, the slide and heat of it, the taste and weight of it. How hearing the quiet gasps and feeling the helpless little jumps as I used my hands to stroke and fondle, turned me on so much, made my trousers so tight, it hurt. I fumbled my belt and trousers open, pushed a hand inside my pants and got a hold of myself, and then I stroked as I sucked, imagining it was Kir’s hard hand on my cock, gripping me tight and wonderfully as I curled my tongue around the head of his cock and used my teeth to exquisitely torment him.
I felt his balls contracting and a second later, heard a gasped out “Jodi!” But I didn’t take my mouth off him because I wanted him, all of him, and when he came it was like a gift, a blessing. Setting me free of the pain from the past, promising a future where I could choose for myself. Where we both could.
He urged me to let him go, and as soon as I did, he dropped to his knees and put his arm around me, his other hand pushing mine away so he could take over. I writhed in pleasure as he wrapped his long, strong fingers around me, his mouth claiming me at the same time, tongue seeking and tasting me, him, us. He fucked my mouth as his hand stroked me to a quick, messy climax, held me as he kept kissing me and murmuring my name, whispering promises and love and apologies over and over against my lips, my bearded cheeks.
We clung together like that for some time, and when I finally looked at him properly, I realised his face was wet, like mine. He smiled somewhat tremulously. “I can’t...I don’t know how...I never thought we could do that again.”
“But we did. Now we can do it as often as we like,” I murmured. I looked down—his hand was covered in come, and about two seconds from making a mess either of my pants or the carpet. “Come on, let’s clean up.”
In the bathroom, he stripped me properly, with reverence and the essential gentleness that was his defining trait.
“Now, see,” he said, carefully folding my trousers over the rail and putting my shirt and sweater on a hanger. “That’s how you treat nice clothes.”
“Your uniform is not nice clothing. It’s hideous.”
He paused, my clothes still in his hand. “It really bothers you? Is it gonna be a problem for us?”
“Absolutely not. I’m only kidding. Half-kidding. Kir...we’ve all got bad memories of the security forces, you know that. But you’re on our side. It’s who you are that matters, not what you wear. I’m worried about the effect on you, though. It’s pretty rough in this town, and police work can be ugly.”
He hung my shirt up behind the door, then turned and faced me. “Uglier than prison? Uglier than what I seen? I can take it.”
I went to him and took his hands. “You won’t have Hermi and Jeyle to support you. Not in person.”
“I’m fine, Jodi. All of us have to see a psych every month, more if we need it. It ain’t gonna be easy, any of it. I know that. But it’s what I want.”
I reached up and touched his head, curled my fingers in his short thick hair. “This. This is what I want. You.”
“Yeah. That too.” He turned his head and kissed my wrist. “Figure we can spend the whole weekend doing this?”
“Yes, I do...though maybe....”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe a trip to Kardelo at some point?”
He paused, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. But you and me first, okay? Got a lot of catching up to do.”
I let him take me by the hand and lead me to the bed. Yes, us first, because that was our foundation. After that....
We had freedom, and choices and rights. And we would make our future ourselves.
~~~
If you enjoyed this story, then discover more of my books for sale at
Hidden Faults
is set in
the world of Periter
which
is much like our own, and other than in geography, differs in only one major respect—some of the people living on it have a gene which when expressed, gives them paranormal abilities. Approximately half the races in this world carry this gene, which is switched on during development by a number of environmental factors. The gene also makes the person infertile.
Hidden Faults
is a sequel to
Walk a Lonesome Road
, which is a remix of the main
Pindone Files
arc. If you enjoyed this, then you might also enjoy:
The other arc set in Periter is the
Darshian Tales:
Going Down
is also part of this universe, but is separate from the above in time and geography.
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