Timothy (8 page)

“Now, to get you completely naked.” Otto grabbed Tim’s right foot and quickly unlaced his boot. Within seconds he had Tim stripped from the waist down. Tim reached for the hem of his shirt only to stop when Otto pushed his hand aside. “I’m unwrapping my present.”

Tim let his hand drop to his side. Otto smiled his approval. He leant down and stroked Tim’s hair.

“Turn your head and let me get the band out of your hair. I want to feel it between my fingers.”

Once Otto had the rubber band out, he worked his fingers through Tim’s hair. It felt so good, so soothing, Tim couldn’t help but purr as his eyes drifted closed.

Otto’s voice was laced with an almost reverent tone when he spoke. “You have such beautiful hair, silky and golden. All these curls hidden underneath it, what a treasure.”

“Uh.” Well, at least someone liked those stupid little curls that seemed to form the bottom layer of Tim’s hair in the back. Tim cracked his lids open enough to see Otto from the corner of his eye. Now Tim’s face was burning as much as his ass, although for a totally different reason. He didn’t know how to handle the compliments Otto was so casually giving him.

“Just say thank you, Otto,” Otto said. But he kissed Tim’s words away before Tim could speak.

Tim was breathless, his mind filled with the want raging through his body when Otto stopped kissing him. He hooked his arms under Tim’s legs and pulled him forward until his butt hung off the edge of the bed. Tm’s shirt was rucked up under his back and armpits, and it was uncomfortable, but he didn’t move to finish undressing himself. His hair felt pulled, tangled, but again, he didn’t care.

Otto pushed Tim’s legs up until his knees were close to his ears. “Hold them up.”

Remembering the feel of Otto’s tongue lapping at his hole, Tim began to pant. Otto’s chuckle tickled him, literally, since he did it against Tim’s balls. There was no laughing on Tim’s part, though, because Otto licked a strip down to his pucker at the same time he pulled Tim’s cheeks apart.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Tim wailed, because Otto was flicking his tongue, rapid lashes over and over, bringing sensations to the delicate skin there unlike anything Tim had ever experienced before.

Tim dug his nails into his skin where he gripped his legs. The pain fed the pleasure in a weird cycle he didn’t understand but knew he’d soon crave. Then Otto speared him with his tongue and Tim’s world tilted on its axis, or maybe his brain just spun in his skull.

The slurping sounds Otto made, the hums and growls of approval as he became more aggressive with the rimming, would be seared into Tim’s memory forever. When Otto inserted his finger beside his tongue then quickly pushed in another digit, Tim howled and grabbed his shaft. He pinched the head, chasing back his orgasm, wanting this feeling to last forever.

Then Otto curled his fingers and Tim nearly levitated off the bed. “Found it, didn’t I?” Otto purred. “You’ve never had someone stimulate your prostate?”

Tim gave up on answering when Otto touched his little hot spot again.

“Never touched it yourself?”

Well, Jesus Christ! If he’d known how good it felt he’d have probably walked around with something in there more often than not.

Otto’s rich chuckle stroked over Tim’s skin and he slipped his fingers free of Tim’s body. “Look at me, Tim.”

Tim pried open his eyes. He hadn’t been aware of closing them. He watched as Otto stripped for him, making the removal of his clothing as seductive as anything else he’d done to Tim. By the time Otto was nude, his thickly muscled body glistening with sweat, Tim was ready to beg for a fucking.

Otto ran a hand through the thick pelt of hair on his chest. He moaned as he pulled at one brown nipple then the other. Tim licked his lips, imagining the hard nubs in his mouth, the way the skin would wrinkle and draw up when he blew on it.

“Yes,” Otto hissed, lids dropping low as he pinched and twisted his tits. “You’d make me feel it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah. I’d leave your nipples red and throbbing, sore to the touch.”

“Fuck!” Otto left off playing with himself and pushed his thumb into Tim’s opening. “Ah, damn, you’re so tight, so hot! Roll over and get your knees on the floor.”

Tim scrambled into position. He shoved a hand beneath him to fist his cock and turned his head aside to peer over his shoulder at Otto.

“Spread your knees further apart,” Otto instructed. He knelt between Tim’s legs. Tim closed his eyes when he felt the fat tip of Otto’s dick prod his hole. “More lube,” Otto muttered. The snap and gurgle of the liquid leaving the tube sent goose bumps skittering over Tim’s skin. There was the brief sound of skin on skin, then Otto sighed and grabbed Tim’s hip.

Tim’s eyes flew open as Otto pushed into him. This was no slow penetration, but a firm, steady drive that opened Tim up while his inner muscles contracted around Otto’s thick cock. It was perfect. Tim would have been insulted had Otto treated him gentler.

“Take all of it,” Otto ground out, his voice rough and strained. Tim had heard such talk in plenty of pornos and usually ended up turning the volume down, but he wanted to hear every word, every sound Otto made, every sound their bodies made together.

Yet it was so hard to pay attention to anything other than the way his ass ached, the dull throb, the pain which was quickly turning into pleasure as Otto thrust deeper and deeper. Tim held his dick painfully tight and pushed back, spearing himself on the hard spike splitting him open.

“Tim!” Otto barked. A solid jerk of his hips had Otto’s balls slapping against Tim’s. “Fucking hell!”

Otto dropped down over him, his furry chest perfection against Tim’s back. The urge to be dominated, taken, was a foreign but powerful one and Tim saw no reason to refuse himself or Otto what they truly wanted.

“Do it,” Tim urged, clenching his ass and thrilling at the gasp he pulled from Otto. “Take me, fuck me, mark me. Let me feel how much you want me.”

“Need you, not just want you,” Otto corrected right before he scraped his teeth over Tim’s nape. Otto shoved his hands under Tim’s chest, scratching over his nipples, sending a sharp bite of pain he wasn’t expecting throughout Tim’s chest. Tim bucked and yelped and wished Otto would do it again, but Otto didn’t, clamping his hands instead over Tim’s shoulders from the underside.

As soon as Otto’s grip tightened, he began hammering into Tim. There was no build up to the pummelling his ass took, no warning other than Otto’s strong grip and the snarl and the repeated scrape of teeth.

“Fuck me!” Tim shouted, and some small part of himself was shocked at his slutty, demanding behaviour, but the majority of him was thrilled to be fucked so hard he couldn’t draw a deep breath.

He couldn’t even properly jack himself off, not when each of Otto’s thrusts drove his hips into the bed, his thighs stinging as they hit the bedframe. Really, all Tim could do was hold on and try to keep his cock from being battered, and it excited him unbearably, how vigorous and rough Otto was with him.

Then the scrape of teeth became a bite, a deep penetration not possible with human teeth. Excruciating pleasure-pain tore through him, slamming into his cock and balls, setting the nerve endings from his neck to his ass hole at full stimulation.

Tim screamed like he’d never screamed before. His ears rang but he couldn’t say if it was the volume of his own voice or the intensity of his climax as it ripped away everything but the feel of Otto bucking against him, his fat cock driving into Tim again and again. Tim felt as if he came in waves, in an orgasm so long it shouldn’t have been possible. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours—they were all the same to him, too long, too short, too fast and too slow.

Otto lifted his head and roared, and a fresh wave of pain shot out in circles from the bite on Tim’s neck. He didn’t care, not when Otto made such a sound and clutched at Tim as he pumped hot cum into Tim’s ass.

With every spurt, Otto shouted and ground against Tim’s butt. He’d be sore, and he didn’t give a damn. Every step he took for the next several days, Otto would take with him, even if it was only in Tim’s imagination.

“I will be with you. I will,” Otto swore as he finally stilled on top of Tim. “No matter where you are, know the truth of my words.”

When Otto said it, Tim didn’t doubt him, not then. He hoped he never would, but even fucked out, Tim knew things could change, people could change even if they never meant to.

Chapter Seven

Otto didn’t mope around while Tim was off checking the Vengi mountain pass for snow leopard cubs. Although originally expecting to return the same evening, Steve had said a problem with the cameras meant they might not be back until tomorrow or the day after, even, and while Otto didn’t like being away from his newly found mate, he accepted the situation. Tim had a job to do, and so did Otto. It was probably best for Tim not to be around, just in case the man Otto was hunting turned out to be the sick fuck Otto feared he’d be.

A check in with Naran and Otto was informed Ochir hadn’t been seen since the night he’d delivered the message to Naran’s father. Was the boy’s disappearance good or bad? If Ochir was holed up somewhere safe, it’d be a good thing. If he wasn’t, then where was he?

Otto wished he knew. He hoped the boy was being cared for, but Naran had said Ochir’s parents had died before she’d even met him, and the boy had been living on the streets ever since, as far as she knew. Otto planned to accompany Naran tonight when she went in search of Ochir again.

While he and Naran weren’t exactly close, they were friends of a sort, and Otto didn’t like the idea of her wandering around the streets and alleys looking for Ochir by herself. Luckily, Naran didn’t particularly like the idea, either, so she didn’t get offended when he offered his help.

Memories of Tim’s cries, the clamp of his warm, snug body around Otto’s dick made it difficult for him to concentrate, but Otto did the best he could. He went over the last vestiges of the scent he’d followed yesterday. Maybe it didn’t belong to the suspected poacher, but it did belong to a man who wasn’t a native.

Otto could pick up very fine aspects of a scent, from the sex of the owner, sometimes even to the food they’d eaten, if it were spicy or flavorful enough. The man he’d been following had reeked of foreign smells along with a bitter, acrid scent that set Otto’s back up.

Today he had intended to walk as much of Dalanzadgad as he could, street by street. He started where he’d left off last night, at the hotel when he dropped Tim off in the morning.

Otto’s first area to check was where the local merchants set up stands to sell their wares. Rickety tables or blankets on the ground were covered with mostly useless crap. Useless as it could be, Otto often ended up purchasing some of it. If he smelt or sensed desperate need rather than addiction or greed, he tried to help the seller out.

If he found poached items, he waited until the merchants packed up and left, then he followed them until he could get the person alone. So far, he’d kept from causing serious harm to the ones he’d caught, but none of them had been selling off parts of his family, either, at least not parts of his shifter family. As far as Lona knew, her relatives were in the Mongolia region, but that wasn’t so for all snow leopard shifters. The others were scattered all over the place throughout Central Asia, and apparently in America as well.

As for his own relatives, Otto might not know most of them, but his mother had kept in touch with some of her siblings. Every now and then one or more of them showed up either at Otto’s home or his parents’. Otto didn’t think he could live like those relatives did, more wild beast than human, but their choices didn’t have to be his. He just wanted them happy and safe. He wanted all shifters, not just his own kind, safe in this world.

For now, he had to concentrate on preserving his own species, since he didn’t think anyone else was doing so. Yes, his dad was trying, in his own way, but Steve was limited to what he could do. Which was why Otto hunted down poachers. He didn’t limit his hunting to Dalanzadgad but anywhere he got a lead on snow leopards being murdered. More often than not, he didn’t leave Mongolia, but there’d been a couple of times he’d gone to Kazakhstan, Nepal, Russia. When he caught his man, Otto handed him over to the proper authorities, unless the country he was in refused to interfere.

Then it got ugly. So far Otto had managed to successfully scare the shit out of the poachers who hadn’t been arrested. If intimidation didn’t work, he’d do whatever he had to in order to keep his family safe. A poacher going after snow leopards could easily kill a shifter. Otto had heard of an entire clan being wiped out decades ago somewhere in Nepal.

He wasn’t having any luck finding the odour he was sniffing around for, and his enquiries about anyone new trying to sell animal wares met with several confused looks. Whoever had sent Ochir into Naran’s family shop had been careful and probably wasn’t looking to score small cash.

Otto wondered just what the man had to sell. Something about this whole thing was unsettling to him. He couldn’t shake the feeling this particular poacher was worse than the previous ones. The part about him having special snow leopard parts, or there being something special about them, either way, it sat uncomfortably on Otto’s mind and constantly prodded him.

While Otto didn’t mope about Tim being hundreds of miles away at the Vengi Pass, he did think of his mate often. It was impossible not to. He’d taken Tim’s sweet ass as many times as he dared, which had only been twice. Had he not been a virgin to bottoming, Otto would have fucked him at least twice as many times. As it was, there’d been a very hot sixty-nine for a morning wake-up and a mutual rub-off in the shower shortly thereafter.

This craving, the almost insatiable need to fuck, was definitely new and, Otto believed, due to them being mates. And to Tim being so goddamned sexy. He was all shyness and need, and he melted liked butter under Otto’s hands, in his mouth, under his body. Otto wanted to gorge himself on Tim, yet he also wanted to feel Tim driving into him, marking him with cum and teeth.